LIT ON THE SPOT - REVIEW
Based on Norse mythology, Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice is pure psychological horror disguised as dark fantasy. Its suffocating atmosphere is the consequence of dealing with themes such as depression, agony and death, while diving into the mind of a character whose mental illnesses infuse the game with hopelessness and despair. It feels so claustrophobic because it doesn’t observe these issues at a safe distance, but inside the very same mind where these feelings thrive.
In the story, Senua is traveling to the “land of mist and fog. The place the Northmen call Hel” to get back the soul of her dead boyfriend, Dillion. Like in the myth of Baldr, here the goddess Hela holds a soul so precious that one would do anything to retrieve it. But what Hela wants from Senua is not something universal, like she did with Baldr, but something deeply personal. Senua’s objective is to go deeper and deeper into her own psyche – and because it is one harmed by illness, the journey becomes excruciatingly dark. It’s plainly stated several times during the game: “The hardest battles are fought in the mind.”
One of the things to first stand out in Hellblade is its art direction. As Senua slowly rows the log she’s using for vessel to land in Hel, she starts to see impaled bodies, hanged bodies, burned bodies, all kinds of bodies. It becomes immediately clear that the place where she’s going is about suffering and death. It’s about darkness and hopelessness. The very proposition of her mission exemplifies how futile it is: “She wants to rescue him. He’s already dead.”
Senua is far from being a straightforward protagonist. She suffers from some unspecified mental illnesses that make her listen to voices in her head, have visions and reinterpret the world around her to worst suit her notion of self, connecting her struggles to people who suffer from schizophrenia, depression and even anxiety. The game opens by describing a “darkness” that towers over Senua. A darkness that never leaves, that “builds onto itself”, and that it’s only a bad day away from claiming her life. This darkness is not something that she can get used to, since her good days only reinforce how awful the bad ones can be. It’s a menace that is forever there, a shadow over the person, just waiting for its chance to take the reins again. Senua’s voices warn her: “You might try to ignore it, turn away, but it’s always there just out of sight, where you are most vulnerable. It’s like it knows that just enough light… is all you need to see its suffocating power.”
The game’s main mechanic is an ingenious one because it acknowledges that what mental illness damage so much is one’s capacity of perception. To navigate the land of Hel, Senua must try to find meaning amidst the chaos, seeing specific patterns in the shape of trees or in the way parts of buildings overlap when observed in a certain angle. Senua can only proceed when she can shift and control her perception of reality. There are moments that you must look between certain objects and portals so that a bridge that was not there suddenly is now. When everything seems lost, paths may open if Senua has someone or something to guide her gaze. In other words, Senua must use the same thing that is so deeply corrupted to fight the thing that is corrupting it. In Hellblade, perception is the stage of a fierce battle between Senua and her darkness, with her mind as the prize.
Thus, the world of Hel depicted here is all about illusions. The monsters she kills seem to fade away like they never existed. Sometimes Senua activates the memories of fires in villages she never visited – or maybe did, and those are her memories, making everything more terrifying – where she must pass through carbonized bodies and hear endless screams, while the voices in her head keep saying that all of that is herfault and that she should run as fast as she can, tapping into her guilt and fear.
There is a brilliant sequence of pure horror when Senua gets trapped inside a dark monochrome place. She can barely see anything ahead of her, and so must follow sound cues and Dillion’s voice to find the exit. But soon she must go inside a building where a disfigured blobbed monster lurks, one that she can barely distinguish moving in the darkness. And if she sees it, it sees her and she’s dead. The sound design is terrific – headphones are not recommended, they are required – and you can hear the floor creaking with Senua’s every step and the chains nervously rackling when you stumble on them. And when you think she’s finally safe, you suddenly see her half underwater near a bunch of the same creatures, whose shapes can now be confused with the fleshless bodies that are hanging from the ceiling.
It’s no wonder that Senua is going through these lengths to save Dillion’s soul: as this scene proves, he often saved hers from her personal hell. While her father despised her, deeming her cursed, unfit and broken – feeding her illness – Dillion was there to help her, guiding her through the darkness. He is literally depicted as a beacon of light at several moments, which is a masterful touch, if not subtle.
One of the game’s main discussions is on the issue of suffering, asking whether it has a purpose or if it’s just plain old pain. On the one hand, someone – especially a Christian – could argue that suffering is a way to wash away ones’s sins, a form of penance, and a path to heaven. The word “sacrifice” is on the very title of the game: Senua believes that her suffering will achieve something; she thinks that by giving herself away she’ll get Dillion back. On the other hand, though, there is the possibility that is all for naught. As Senua’s spectral guide, Druth, tells her: “The Northmen made fire sacrifices, burning slaves like me, to reveal the path to Surtr. I searched for meaning in their suffering, in their eyes, but they just screamed like helpless pigs.” For Druth, is not that suffering doesn’t mean anything. Actually, for him suffering takes so much from a person that it makes it simply stop being human, leaving only the animal: there is no higher meaning to it, no conscience anymore, only screams. There is no need for language when there is only pain.
This leads us to the game’s main theme: death. It’s true that Senua goes through several narrative arcs. After all, she must deal with the constant voices inside her head – will she fight or accept them? –; with the narrative that she’s worthless – will she treat it as a narrative or as fact? –; and even deal with past trauma – will she be able to hide from it forever or have to relieve it once again? But her main task still remains the same: to retrieve her dead boyfriend’s soul.
But, as Druth constantly points out with his tales of Norse mythology, death is inevitable. That is why what you’re supposed to do during the first and last battle in the game is the very same thing. Druth explains that even the Gods themselves can’t escape Ragnarok: “There is nothing they can do to prevent it, but Odin ever seeks knowledge and magic, hoping, hoping to find a way to postpone the dark day.”
Besides that, there is a bigger problem that lies on the fact that Senua’s ultimate goal and the objective of her darkness are the one and the same. Her illness entices her to take her own life whilst she wants to offer it to the Norse embodiment of Death as a sacrifice to save Dillion. Her experiences on the failure of perception then begin to make more sense as Senua starts to realize that what she wants and what she perceives may not be what she really wants and what she’s really there. Mental illness can deform one’s notion of reality and Hellblade exemplifies this in the most suffocating way possible.
Senua’s wants to defy death by bringing her beloved back to life. But as she goes through her personal hell, she eventually begins to discover that to defy death is not to revert it – even the Gods couldn’t when they tried with Baldr – but to keep living. For Death is ultimately personal: you can only deal with yours. That is why her journey in the game is so tailor-made to tap into her fears and uncertainties. That is why Hela looks precisely like another character in the game. As she goes deeper into Helheim, Senua is going deeper into her own soul. The voices may say that what she is doing what she is doing for Dillion, but in the end is Senua herself who comes out changed.
The game’s presentation is also brilliant and even on the Switch the art direction shines, especially the moments of great spectacle, like the setting of a grotesque river of blood, while the binaural sound is put to great use to represent Senua’s voices surrounding her, whispering, shouting and laughing all at the same time. The music during the more important battles, with its guttural voices, hampers the excitement of the fights, while lighting is used to create an epic mood.
The battle system is a simple one, but combat is far from being the focus of the game. You have the usual light and heavy attacks, the ability to parry and dodge, and finally a move to use against shielded enemies. What makes the fights interesting is the paradoxal use of Senua’s voices: sometimes they help you, warning from where a blow is coming from, but often they only add noise to the battles, making everything sound too chaotic, and so reinforcing the suffocating atmosphere. That is why the gauntlet of enemies in the aforementioned river of blood has the potential to make any player breathless – and not in the good Keanu Reeves way.
Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice is a brilliant horror game and easily one of the best games of this generation. It has no fear of dealing with difficult subjects in a gruesome, but honest way, while developing one of gaming’s most memorable and tragic female protagonists.
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