The Farmhouse: Part 2

A little over a year later, I found myself driving back down the "trail, unimproved" in my jeep, with three five gallon jugs of gas in the backseat, a sheet of handwritten prayers tucked into my pocket, and my dog Baxter curled up near the jugs. Leaving with these things in hand, I told my mother the area where I was going to 'hike', and took off.

I only hoped they were enough to finish what I had started.

I kept the events of that place to myself, knowing that I had experienced what some in my faith might call "a minor miracle”. I had told the story about my first ghostly encounter as a kid to some people as a means of entertainment, (much like I am now). The room would always get quiet shortly afterwards, until someone would softly mutter "That's fucked up"…and that was that.

Still, I knew the house was there, and unlike in the first case, I knew that I had disturbed whatever presence haunted that house.

I arrived at noon, with the first whispers of an early summer thunderstorm stirring in the horizon. If this fire ended up out of my control, I had hoped to let nature deal with it. I hauled the three cans out of the jeep, along with a coil of rope, and a shovel. I kept my knife in the small of my back, and clumsily hefting the three cans, I walked towards the house, ignoring the sudden sinking feeling in my stomach.

Where there had once been a good wind moving through the wood line died when I began walking towards the house. Baxter's tail went stiff, and his hair stood on end again. Everything was literally silent; No birds flew, no trees moved. It felt like high noon at Dodge City, and to break the tension I blew the first few notes of that song you hear in most spaghetti western flicks.

Apparently, I hadn't broken shit; I had only driven it away from me in a desperate moment, and I couldn't be sure when it might come back. As I set the cans down, one of the 2x4s from the second story window chose that time to pop out, making an empty thunk as it hit the top of the awning. Baxter barked once, and I loosened St. Mike's medal from inside my shirt, wearing it openly while spreading the contents of the first can around the outside of the house.

The complete lack of anything happening was more frightening, I believed, than if it had appeared gibbering and screaming around the corner of the house. I took a note from Ghostbusters, of all things, and tried my damndest not to think about what the hell it could do. When my foot got caught around a root, I let out a scream, thinking that it was coming out of the ground for me. My heart was beating as loudly as the first time I jumped out of a plane, and I was relieved when the first can was finally empty.

The second and third cans were meant for the inside of the house, and while it was still noon, the light inside seemed less substantial. The door opened like a yawning mouth, inviting me inside. Calling Baxter to my heels, I marched in and immediately spread the gas around as fast as I could. With my first step, a hard stiff wind blew from the direction of the storm front, and the entire house groaned in protest. The hand I had seen before had not moved an inch from where I remembered it, but I avoided it all the same.

As I went into the kitchen, I took a moment to look around, and noticed on the counter a fresh patch of footprints on the dust, about infant sized. I quickly drowned them under the onslaught of gas, and had used up over half of the second can when I saw the entryway into the parlor.

Draped over the windows were large white sheets, each painted with a single pentacle…A hex mark, in other words. Was it designed to keep something in…from escaping? The darkness was more alive in there, and my bravado failed me when I tried to take the first step in, pouring the gas from the safety of the threshold and letting it leak into the room. Something thumped around upstairs, and I felt I didn't have much more time before things got out of hand again. I went back to the center of the kitchen, grabbed the last can, and started spreading it on the hallway walls that led to the upstairs. I definitely wasn’t going up there, but I didn't count on the small trapdoor in the pantry, leading to what might have been a root cellar.

Flicking my lighter, I could see that it was covered with steel-banded wood, holding down the rusting door. There was no need for a lock, as the boards over the door were bolted into cement around the trapdoor. Nothing was getting out of that. All the same, when I flicked my lighter shut and continued on my crusade, something wailed in the dark place under this house, causing my dog to howl in response while I dropped the gas, spilling it all over my boots and jeans. Something down there made the house shake, sending loose chunks of ceiling down on me.

It was time to leave.

I drove my knife though the jug and tossed it down the hallway, ignoring the persistent thump thumping upstairs, like a heartbeat, and ran until I was clear of the pooling gas. Running my lighter along the wall, the gas began to spread into blue flames running in both directions. Carefully keeping the flame away from me, I ran for the door.

The inside of the house had shielded us from the wind that waited for us outside. The storm had snuck up on us and I was almost thrown back by the sudden gush. Reaching down I picked up the dog, threw him over my shoulder, and ran towards the car, taking shelter behind what trees I could. I turned back towards the house, and the fire was starting to take, licking against the dried and rotted wood. I stood there as the wind bent the trees almost sideways, and watched as one tongue of flame formed a blue ring around the house.

Then the smell came, the stench of rot and the decay from last time, with unseen figure slamming around the doorway, highlighted by the flames. I felt my fear drain away at that moment…all the anxiety that had been building was replaced by a sudden anger. Anger at what, I didn’t know….maybe at whatever had caused all this to happen; Regardless, I laid Baxter on the ground, drew my knife, and took a step forward. I was literally seeing red, going into the berserker drive that had won me so many fights before.

"I'm right here motherfucker! I'm not going anywhere!" I screamed over the wind, as if it was just another dude talking shit. The absurdity of it all still strikes me today, a guy yelling at the air and brandishing a knife like a retard at something that wasn’t there. Baxter came up next to me, growling low in his throat, eyes set deep in his massive head.

I still wonder today why it didn't charge me. Was I just taking out my rage and frustration on a figment of my own imagination? Or was it really there, and merely unused to simple human courage, of bravery that drew a line in the dirt and proclaimed "Here, and no further". Whatever the reason, it stopped thrashing, and the outline of flames surrounding it disappeared.

The red faded from my vision shortly after the first story ceiling caved in, and I walked backwards the entire time, never taking my eyes from the house.

I went to the jeep, got in with the dog, and we had dinner at Subway.

Roast beef with bacon for two, on cheese bread. It started to rain when we arrived at Subway, and kept on after we had returned to the smoking embers of the house. I had made a stop on the way back to pick up a flashlight and a crow bar. Using the shovel, I shifted the ashes, not finding anything of interest until I got near the trapdoor. Baxter dug it out, which turned out to be a caved in skull that was partially destroyed by the fire. The skull was too large, and the eye sockets uneven. I ran a finger around the nose and wondered again what had happened here. After several minutes of work with the pick and crowbar, I more or less had an answer. The faintest smell of corpses rose up to meet me, like a soda can in winter that housed a dead mouse from the spring.

There was a skeleton down there, and from the wider set of the hips, I deduced it to be a woman, with both of her femurs smashed. Several skeletons surrounded her…small infant skeletons. Making several knots, I tied off the rope to a sturdy looking tree nearby. If worse came to worst I could always chimney my way up, as it was only a ten foot drop. Either way, I had made sure that someone knew where I was if the shit hit the fan.

I crawled down, looking at the skeleton surrounded by three infants with odd skulls and other deformities. I was surrounded by great despair, and shook my head at the madness of it all before carefully shouldering the skeleton and making the climb up with it. My inner revulsion was offset by a need to do the right thing here, so it took me several trips to collect all the bones, and even longer to dig the actual graves in the dirt, softened by the rain. I piled stones over each, five graves in total. One for the mother and, I assume, her four children, and pulled out my sheet of prayers. I prayed to God, to Saint Michael, and afterwards folded up the paper and offered my own blessings. Baxter sat and watched quietly, and when I was done, he howled low and long.

I walked from that place filthy while covered in soot and dirt, and my nose was filled with the smell of fire. There was no scent of roses, no smell of gunpowder freshly burnt, but there was a smell of things growing underneath it all that hadn't been present before. That, I thought, was all I needed to know that we had done the right thing.

I got in the jeep, and we drove away. I have never taken the supernatural for granted since.

-End

The Farmhouse: Part 1

Greetings, readers.

Tonight I have a special treat for you; It's the first out of a trilogy of terror, a verbatim recounting of someone's horrific yet convincing experience with a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, and the horrors he'd discover within.

The story was taken by Penny Arcade's forum user 'siliconeenhanced', who submitted his own experiences with the supernatural unknown in the following thread.

Is the story genuine, or fabricated? It doesn't matter, because it is a delightfully creepy read, and hailed by most of the other forum goers of Penny Arcade. With his permission, I present to you the first part of his story, slightly rewritten but maintaining the same bone-chilling tone of his original submission.

I hope you new readers get a kick out of it the same way we did. Wait until dark, and turn the lights out, here is the first part of 'The Farmhouse'.

I used to go for hikes along the woods, taking only an old Army map, a knife, and my dog Baxter. He used to hunt rabbits, bringing them back alive and kicking, like he didn't know what to do with this fuzzy, twitching thing in his mouth. Occasionally I'd come across him eating one, but that was neither here nor there. Foxes had a thing for him as well, and we'd always see one standing on a ridge or on some rocks, watching us walk past.

It was by following a 'trail, unimproved' that I came across this house. It was a two story farm house abandoned in the middle of nowhere, though there was nothing surprising about that. The common explanation was that some farms would go bust, and trees would regrow along the plowed fields after years of negligence.

Fair enough.

It was the middle of Autumn, so the trees were in a good lather, with falling leaves and everything else looking decidedly poetic. I didn't really notice anything strange until Baxter suddenly jerked my arm, not because he was trying to run off, but because he had frozen in place. He had gotten this look a few times before, once when someone tried to break into my house, and again when another male dog tried to bump chests with him. He continued looking ruffled, which was saying something since he's a rotty/chow mix. I thought maybe he got a whiff of coyote...

But then I saw the house.

Hesitant at first, I moved closer. What paint the house once had faded off ages ago, leaving only warped gray sideboards. Also, it looked like someone wanted to keep something inside. How did I know this? Mainly because the wooden 2X4s were nailed on the outside of the windows and doors. Okay, I thought, they couldn't nail the boards on the inside, because then they would lock themselves in, right?

But why would they do it period?

Something else grabbed my attention; Moving around the walk-around porch roof, I could see where all the boards had been blown out in one second story window, shattered along with parts of the house itself. While the 2X4s were good and rotted, I could still make out some inscriptions someone had carved into them...or perhaps they were clawed in?

I didn't know.

What I did know was that at this point I should have made like the protagonist in an HP Lovecraft story and head for the wood line, or at least come back with a can of gasoline (especially with the events from Seaford still fresh in my mind).

But I was young, and impetuous; Taking matters into my own hands, I threw myself through the front door, and right into a fucking nightmare.

The wooden walls were covered with streaks of brown impressed into the whitewashed wood, which I soon realized was actually blood inked from fingers scratched down to the bone. And perhaps 'whitewashed' was too strong a term; There were traces of white, but someone had taken the time to write hex marks line after line around the house. Laying almost out of my line of sight, I could see what I first assumed was a huge spider resting on the doorway. But as quickly as my brain put things together, I realized that it was actually a severed hand .

Baxter had entered with me, a low growl stirring in his throat, coming up to my side but never taking more steps than I did. He didn't like the hand, and bared his teeth at it with a sharp two tone snarl that was more akin to a wolf.

The hex lines, basically pentacles with each foot interspersed with a cross, ran along the walls and into what I assumed was the kitchen, due to the empty cabinets and an old iron stove. Needless to say, a thick curtain of dust covered everything, but there were corners here and there with less dust. Kneeling down, I investigated one of the footprints, running my finger along the middle; These were human footprints, made with bare feet.

Somewhere in the house, something thumped, and then I heard a giggle. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks, but Baxter lurched as if he heard it too. I didn't like where this was going, but I continued onward, my heart beating noisily.

Perhaps I imagined the next rattle too, coming from behind, but I didn't think I did. Turning around, I could see that the hand from before had slid several feet down the wall, deeper into the room. I could make out the dust trails where it had moved, and shook my head; Someone or something had to have been fucking with me...but again, I was too headstrong, too reckless. I thought about my experience as a paratrooper, and perhaps being under the auspice of St. Michael had something to do with it too- if he could face the Devil down below, then perhaps I could explore the rusted domain of some half-assed ghost, couldn't I?

Perhaps.

But when one of the fingers suddenly twitched, it did not sit well in my stomach. And after hearing something beating around upstairs again, along with Baxter growing more and more anxious by the second, I decided it was time to leave. I grabbed my fear by the throat, and walked out the house and into the threshold.

I don't know if my walking pissed it off, or if my running only inflamed it further, but when I heard the sound of footsteps coming toward me, I took off for the wood line and out into the open fields, thinking for some reason I'd be safer there. Baxter ran beside me, ears blown back and legs pumped into a flat out sprint. The wind kicked up behind me and I could smell the rot in the air; The smell of open sewage on a hot day, or of a wet corpse with a putrefying aroma. The bile rose at the back of my throat, causing me to spit while ducking under trees and leaping over rocks. It was riding the wind though, its footsteps taunting me, my fear heightening the thrill of the chase. How could you outrun the wind?

You couldn't.

So I turned, ripped the medal hanging from my neck, and shoved it into the wind's face. I don't remember what I yelled, to be honest; I suspect it was a cry to St. Michael with all of my faith, because suddenly there was a white explosion in my head, blinding my eyes with light. The only comparison I have to this feeling is when I once got too close to a flash bang, the noise slowly filtering back in along with my vision.

Again, there was the smell of roses and gunpowder on the wind, along with something else. You could smell fire clinging to the wind, like the way it clings to your clothes after sitting near a bonfire. I could hear footsteps stomping into the leaves again, but it was only my dog, looking around curiously, sniffing the air. After a moment he looked off into the distance, wagged his tail, and then began to turn back. I followed him, looking back where he had stared so intently. I saw nothing, but there was a cool breeze bursting from that direction; And the smells, so far apart but seeming so natural, were stronger for a second, and then faded just as quickly. I walked out with my dog and left whatever horror I had wandered into behind me.

When I got back home, my mother asked me which girl I had been with. She said she could smell me from the entrance, smelling good but smelling strong. I told her I wasn't with any girl, but she just said:

"You don't have to lie, but we can pretend if you're too embarrassed to tell your mother. Just ask your 'friend' what perfume she uses, because I'd like a bottle."

A deployment later, I returned to that house with a can of gasoline, the dog, and some handwritten prayers.

What I found after the house burned to the ground was another story altogether.

-Continued Next Week

Yasumicon 2007

Greetings, readers. Apologies for the lateness of this entry (nine minutes before Monday). The following post is image-heavy, so it ended up taking a bit longer for me to have it ready.

Yesterday me and my sister spent the day at Yasumicon, an anime convention in FIU, FL. It was our third convention, so we came in fully prepared of what to expect and what we should focus our attention on. Before we reached the building, we could already spot the usual suspects of dedicated cosplayers, although no matter how many times you see it in person, there is a certain oddity to watching some of the most familiar characters casually walking around the campus.



"Oh my God, it's Cloud!!", squealed the gawking female onlookers. While the costume work is good, it was amusingly ironic to catch him in the middle of a cellphone call.

Soon enough, we reach the main building, and just like the first two times, it takes a good couple of minutes to adjust our eyes to all the wonderful toys on display.



For me and my sister, anime conventions are like flea markets to us. Our primary goals for each convention is to always scour the different vendors, looking for the best deals we can find for all the available memorabilia of our favorite shows and games (or in some cases, whatever looks really cool).

However, there was a particular piece of merchandise I've been wanting to get my hands on for a while.


If you're wondering what my thoughts were when I first laid eyes on these babies, consider this following scene from the Venture Bros and you'll have a good idea.

Despite the warning sign, I did indeed get to pick up and feel these replica weapons (with the vendor's permission of course). I'm no weapons expert, but the swords felt real enough; They were heavy, the edges were sharp (consider the potential headlines, but please make sure to not actually act on those impulses), and the Gunblade in particular had a clicking trigger. And not only do the quality of these replicas improve with every convention, but the price would drop each time as well. But I decided to resist temptation for the third time and continued onward.



I regret to inform you that my collection of cosplayers for this event are a bit paltry. There was a perfectly good reason for this, though:



A ridiculous amount of the cosplayers were characters from Naruto. Nearly every character you could imagine was shown here, including a few I wasn't immediately familiar with as I'm following Toonami's current schedule.



The second most cosplayed series, however, was Kingdom Hearts II. Scores of Organization members, Sora, Riku, and even a couple of Heartless adorned the area, which was more pleasing given the relative freshness of the series. Still, I was hoping for more variety.


Not the kind of vendor you'd want to haggle with.

Time passes, I make a few purchases (which I will show you in detail in the bottom of this entry), and we continue onward through half of the area, and then this particular vendor catches my eye...



Glorious, no? This vendor specialized in nothing but replica weapons, all sharp and all intricately detailed. Two kinds of Buster Swords, Gunblades, a Tessaiga, the Sword of Omens, Zangetsu, the Master Sword, a Keyblade, the Sword of Power, and even an original fusion of a Gunblade and Tidus' Brotherhood. There were even a few stainless steel katanas, including one katana that was nine feet long.

The Gunblade was $65, and even came with a stand. I was very, very tempted. I nearly took out my wallet and purchased it. But I had spent a good deal of money already, and my room was still far too messy to find a place for it. So sadly, I turned my back on it for the third time in a row. Maybe fourth time's the charm...

Anyway, I would like to take this moment to show you all the notable cosplayers who were nice enough to stop and smile for the camera.


I just wanted to take the shot of Gambit and Rogue, but then this guy on the left decided to step in. Perhaps he's just a very bad Logan cosplayer.


I've seen the guy on the left more than once in previous conventions, but I have no idea exactly what show or movie he's from. I've been afraid to ask, personally.


Couldn't resist. This kid's deadpan expression was worth it.


Seems Snake is camera-shy.


I was hoping to meet some cute girl cosplayers, but was sorely disappointed by the turnout. The girls who were attractive were dressed up as underage characters, which made me uncomfortable overall.


There was this...collection of people who were putting on some sort of dance, with the Jiraiya cosplayer taking center stage. People would start chanting "Jiraiya, Jiraiya, Jiraiyaaaaaaaaaaa!" while Jiraiya would dance with any girl cosplayer who wanted the attention. I couldn't have walked out of there fast enough.


And for my personal favorite, I pick this cute and well detailed Namine cosplayer. The other two guys with her weren't bad either.



Afterwards, we made a stop at a small indoor theater that was playing various anime. Once we entered, we watched two episodes of an unidentified, fan-subbed series which I found out later was a 2007 show called Tokyo Majin, an action/supernatural series about high school boys and girls with superpowers and kung-fu who fought against zombies, eyeball-spiders, and a steroid-pumped Samara/Sadako knockoff with an exposed spine and open fingernails that shot black threads. Also there was a rocking opening theme with wonderfully engrish phrases such as "Crush your spine!".

It was awesome. I'll be picking this series up with AD Vision brings it over to America.

To top off the day, my sister and I stopped in one more room, which was housing a cosplay contest. Unfortunately, the quality of these next set of pictures are rather poor, due to the low lighting and distance of the room.



A large line of cosplayers wait for their brief turn to pose and get applause from everyone else. Contestants included...



This.....colorful character, who previously cosplayed as Envy in the last Yasumicon...



More Kingdom Hearts cosplayers (featuring Yuna)...



Even more Naruto...



Captain Gordon, who got a special award for being an "Atlus Fan"...



A Tonberry, who sadly did not bother to put the mask back on when my camera was ready...



And this...guy (who got an award for "Best Original Character).

Now, I must warn you, the next cosplayer may induce nightmares.

First came Man Faye.

Then Sailor Bubba.

Then Fat Tifa (count yourselves lucky I don't have a link to that one).

And now, without further ado...



Man Misty. He got quite a rouse from the crowd, especially with his little dance. Fortunately for you, I don't have any pictures of that little number.



Okay, maybe just one.

Now, let's end things with all the wonderful toys I acquired.



Four, in total.



First we have Judge Gabranth. I've been trying to find the Final Fantasy XII figures since the beginning of this year, and nearly gave up hope when I could never find them. Of the four, the Judge here is easily the most detailed, and well worth the $30.



Next up was Axel, found in three different vendors. I tried haggling the first two, but got rejected, but I scored on the third. $25, bumped down from $30.



Death Note's Ryuk, probably the most unexpected (but most welcome) purchase for me. This is actually a statue of his Live Movie version, but since they look pretty much identical, it didn't matter either way. Haggled him from $35 to $25.



And finally, the biggest prize of all, Final Form Sora. According to the vendors, this figure is a limited edition of only 3,000 copies. He was sold for $50-$95.

I managed to get him for $20. Don't ask how I pulled that off. I'd rather keep that a mystery for future entries.

And just for the symmetry of things, here's what my sister bought.



EVA-00, which goes pretty nicely with her previous Evangelion-related acquisitions.


She's a really big fan.

And for her other purchase (she's very frugal with her money), she bought this...milk thing.


She's also obsessed with milk. This thing's name is Mozzarella, who is part of the Moofia. Okay....fine.

All in all, a decent convention with my best turnout of toys. I'm looking forward to the next nearby convention, which is in November. My sister is dying to cosplay as someone, and is bugging me to join with her. Currently her favorite idea is having us cosplay as Ryuk and Misa, respectively. I'm leary about the idea, personally, but I'll promise pics if I pull it off.



See you next Sunday.

The Devil is in The Details (Or Lack Thereof)

"Some of the most lifelike FMV we've ever seen."
-Paraphrased from Gamefan Magazine


That tiny statement, quietly wedged between the preview pages of Gamefan Magazine was the first time I ever read about a then-new survival horror game called Silent Hill.

And yet, that tiny little blurb was enough to catch my interest at the time. As a fairly new Playstation owner, I was quite enraptured by the the system's FMV feature: Full Motion Videos created with outside tools to create movie-like sequences that were far beyond the system's graphical capabilities. Considering that I had just immigrated from the Nintendo 64 (a strong concept ruined by rapidly dwindling technology, namely cartridges), I became quite taken with the quantity and quality of FMV's in games (although ironically, I consider any current use of FMVs in our current generation of hardware to be a sign of laziness; Today's systems should be powerful enough that we should no longer have to 'cheat').

On the small preview box, there's an equally small picture of a woman, used to showcase GameFan's earlier claim while continuing to capture my interest in the title; the FMV character is rendered in exquisite detail. Where previous CG offerings featured simplistic designs (often eschewing an anime style, including large eyes, spikey hair, and overall cartoonish physiques), the woman pictured was intentionally made to resemble an actual human:

Tall, proportionate, with flowing hair strands, long limbs, and a mouth full of teeth, it was if the developers took a flesh and blood actress and overlapped the CG work over her. Which, it turned out, was exactly what they did, but the term 'motion capturing' wasn't in my vocabulary at the time.

The second written term that pursuaded me was the phrase 'Survival Horror', a term officially coined during the Playstation era, but a genre that has existed as far back as the NES days (such as Friday the 13th, along with a Japanese exclusive title called Sweet Home); Regardless, the phrase was made famous with Capcom's Resident Evil series, and having enjoyed RE'sFrankensteinish fusion of gun toting action with oldschool horror movie scares, I was quite interested to see how Konami would handle their own take of the infantile genre.

So at the time, all I had were a line about lifelike cinematics and a genre classification; Oh, and the title name had a nice ring to it as well. The magazine preview was short, but the statements were as sweet as Satan's song. I had no idea what to expect, but some of the greatest horror stories require their viewers to remain as ignorant and unaware as their victims.

Regardless, it wouldn't take long for me to make my first trip into Silent Hill; A playable demo from Sony's official magazine offered my first glimpse of the wild (but beautifully rendered) unknown.

The demo starts, and sure enough an FMV begins to play. So far, The hype from GameFan Magazine seemed justified; A man slowly awakens from a car accident, grabbing his head in pain but quickly jerking his neck toward the passenger seat, horrified to find it empty along with his car door wide open. Without a second thought, he steps out of the car, only to find an endless layer of fog surrounding him, and his passenger nowhere in sight.

As impressive as that may have sounded, the above clip barely lasted thirty seconds. The scene begins and changes as quickly as a ghost in the wind (but don't hold me to that), and the actual game begins, under less impressive standards.

While the opening FMV delivered with stunning detail and animation, the game itself appeared as an unpolished mess by comparison; The protagonist was a stick figured caricature with long arms and a face lacking eyes, almost looking like a ghoul himself; The environment surrounding him was an uneven set of buildings and roads, with a thick sheet of white fog hindering your view. It was a disappointing start, especially after the grotesquely gorgeous Resident Evil 2, but I decided to take control in hand and give the demo a shot anyway, hoping that the state of the graphics was due to the game being incomplete.

Also, the quiet howling in the background was strangely compelling...

After a few minutes of walking blindly, another FMV appears; In the next scene, a little girl with her back turned begins to slowly walk into the ominous fog. The scene ends even faster than the opening FMV, but the game itself continues the story. The girl is identified only as Cheryl, but the odds were good that she was your character's daughter. Despite his pleas, Cheryl disappears instantly in the fog. Now the player has a clear goal, to try and catch up with Cheryl. While your view remains obstructed by the fog, your path becomes more straightforward as you focus your ears to the small tapping of her feet against the road. As you continue to follow the sound, Cheryl gradually becomes visible to you again. But no matter how much you run, she always remains three steps ahead of you. The chase goes on until Cheryl exits past a fence. Once you enter after her, the scene shifts.

The fog pulls back a bit in the next area, giving a somewhat clearer view of the buildings, stairs, and trash around you. My character is desperately catching his breath, which came as a surprise to me considering the seemingly perfect physical shape most video game characters appear to carry. As I idly leave the controller alone, feeling a small bit of sympathy for this fictional father, I also take notice of the sound; What began as an eerily tranquil howl of the wind had subtly increased in tempo, a few extra clangs of instrumentation seeping through the television speakers like a backed-up toilet.

I continue on, but the next few steps prove to be more difficult, as the camera begins to take a life of its own, swooping up and dropping down and moving all around the character like a stalker admires its prey from a distance. The further you move on, the louder and more distorted the background noise grows, taunting you in conjunction with the living camera.

Soon, more and more unmovable elements begin to materialize in front of you; a wheelchair lies smashed and broken on the ground, a trail of blood is plastered on a garage door, a severed dog's head sits underneath a bloody basketball net, and the sky is growing darker. Soon the world around your character is in complete blackness, while blazing sirens hum in the distance, and the falling snow morphs into crashing rain.

It was at this point that I realized that the odd noises and sound effects playing throughout the demo was actually the game's soundtrack; Finally, something resembling music began to materialize, but its presence soon became unwelcome as the beats and drums began a choir of doom and death that grew closer and louder with every step.

Finally the character reaches a dead end; hanging above him in the pitch blackness is a corpse, crucified in what appeared to be barbed wire, his entrails spilling below your feet. It's a grisly scene, but you don't even get a chance to register it, because the first group of flesh and blood enemies finally reveal themselves....right behind you.

Where previous games offered familiar monsters such as zombies, vampires, ghosts and the like, Silent Hill's residents were indescribable in appearance; These misshapen, inhuman husks did not resemble anything you had previously encountered in a video game, but what became a more horrifying revelation was what they did resemble; skinless children with switchblades, howling about in a backwards giggle as they slashed away at your legs and chest.

With no weapon to defend yourself and the only path out blocked out, there was only one viable option left; sit back and die.

It wasn't the first game to implement that option, nor the last; Soon, another FMV appears, as your character wakes up again, only quicker and more startled than he was at his car accident. He finds himself in a Diner, and not alone, as a police woman approaches him with a friendly smile. But after such a horrific dream (or was it?), her visible teeth and low-laying eyes give a sense of uneasiness, just as the buildings and streets in the beginning of the demo.

As the demo reaches a close, everything about Silent Hill became apparent all at once; I understood then what the developers were attempting with this fresh entry into the Survival Horror genre; What the group at Team Silent set out to do was not a successor to Resident Evil, but a completely new manifestation of horror and fear that has never been accomplished in any game before it. The Playstation was a powerful system back in the day, but its limitations were quite apparent. Previous developers would add in as many FMV clips as possible to disguise their games from looking less than realistic, but Silent Hill ended up doing the opposite and gave into its graphical limitations, working with them to create a unique and frightening experience.

The misshaped buildings, twitchy camera, choppy frame rate, and thick layers of fog all added to the surrealistic experience of the game; Whether intentionally or not, the distorted look was but one element to the aesthetics of Silent Hill. The second was the sheer imagination the developers possessed, disturbing as it was. The devil is in the details, or rather the lack thereof.

The game was markedly different from Resident Evil; where Resident Evil featured an homage to zombie movies of the past, with predictable jumps and creatures, Silent Hill was something far more personal; a representation of our everyday fears, both the physical ones we see every day, and the psychological ones deeply rooted in our nightmares.

The former is carried out in unapologetic detail; an abandoned school, a forest with broken sheds, a pitch black sewer, and a hospital with a secret fifth floor (the number five carrying superstitious significance to the Japanese as thirteen does for Americans) all represented real locations that have served as the backdrops for urban legends and childhood ghost stories that every person has been exposed to. But for me, no moment in the game was more unsettling than the moment you stepped into an abandoned house's backyard, a small area with a patch of grass and a surrounding fence, but surrounded in the utter blackness of night, with a nightmarish choir humming throughout the background.

The latter element, the manifestation of nightmares, is apparent whenever the entire area around the character 'shifts' into an 'other' version of the town, where buildings are stripped down to their metal intestines, the floors around you are hollow and slick with blood and grime, and even the creatures themselves are transformed into even uglier monstrosities, as well as increase in number; With so many monsters at once, and your character just an everyday man with little battle prowess, it becomes a better option to flee rather than fight.

So, more often than not, you find yourself running madly to get from one area to another, as an army of creatures chase you mercilessly, your vision is impaired by hollow blackness, and clashing metal and grinding steel play around you as a deafening chorus to your misery.

Also, your character will trip and fall on more than one occasion.

What makes Silent Hill such an engrossing and deeply horrific experience is that there are no Hollywood-level jumps or frights, or moments where you can breath easily; There are no designated 'Safe-Zones', and not all the threats are visible to you. Instead, you are consistently surrounded with a looming unease of dread, where every sudden sound in the distance, or inanimate object lying on the ground is a threat. And when the real threats do come, they don't normally try to sneak up on you, but silently shuffle toward you from several feet away; These creatures don't fear you, and they don't fear making themselves known to you, as if they are aware of your helplessness.

Silent Hill is without any doubts the most terrifying video game series ever conceived, because the team responsible thought beyond mere horror movies or adrenaline-laced video games, and focused on creating a level of horror that is practically sacrilegious and taboo; a psychological vision of your deepest nightmares physically bound to locations recognizable to everyone who plays.

Play this game if you dare; Play it during the summer time, to help chill your bones from the scorching heat, or play it to change your perspective of the world around you, though don't expect that perspective to be pleasant or uplifting. But above all else, only play it at dark; The game loses some of its power under a well lit room or with a group of friends, but if you are truly brave, you'll turn off those lights and send those warm bodies away, and immerse yourself to the looming darkness of the town.

It's a hell of a tourist resort, but are you willing to pay the price?