As our titular hero is rows us into an eerie world of fog and visions of death, the first credit appears: Paul Fletcher, Mental Health Advisor. That’s how serious the game is about its visceral depiction of psychosis.
Whilst plenty of games have explored mental health before, and probably made less of a song and dance about it, but Hellblade places Senua’s state of mind at the forefront. Her mental illness is reflected vividly through the relentless voices in the sound and dizzying visuals of flickering lights, symbols and human faces. As an artsy assault on the senses, it is compelling, so much so that you forget it’s even a game, albeit one with a distinctly adult tone.
It’s certainly not always fun watching the hero suffer as much as she does - she does not have a great time for the most part. This does, however, make those moments of triumph in the epic sword battles all the more satisfying - Ninja Theory’s distinct combat gameplay is as thrilling as ever here. The visual mindtrickery plays effectively into the puzzle segments that fill the rest of the gameplay, encouraging the player to find unlikely symbols in the landscape and see things the way Senua does.
Whilst it’s admirable that mental health is the key ingredient of Hellblade - the game is stripped of any distractions such as collectibles and side quests - the main story’s simplicity seems to render everything else rather empty. For me, it’s hard not to measure it against something like Silent Hill 2, which is rich in themes of mental health, depression and trauma but weaves them effortlessly into a horror-mystery narrative with engaging characters and a world that feels lived in and not quite as abstract.
Still, Hellblade remains a sensory assault, particularly for fans of horror and adventure. It’s a real shame that the Norse mythology aspect now gets roped in with 2018's God of War, which feels like Disney in comparison.
Whilst plenty of games have explored mental health before, and probably made less of a song and dance about it, but Hellblade places Senua’s state of mind at the forefront. Her mental illness is reflected vividly through the relentless voices in the sound and dizzying visuals of flickering lights, symbols and human faces. As an artsy assault on the senses, it is compelling, so much so that you forget it’s even a game, albeit one with a distinctly adult tone.
It’s certainly not always fun watching the hero suffer as much as she does - she does not have a great time for the most part. This does, however, make those moments of triumph in the epic sword battles all the more satisfying - Ninja Theory’s distinct combat gameplay is as thrilling as ever here. The visual mindtrickery plays effectively into the puzzle segments that fill the rest of the gameplay, encouraging the player to find unlikely symbols in the landscape and see things the way Senua does.
Whilst it’s admirable that mental health is the key ingredient of Hellblade - the game is stripped of any distractions such as collectibles and side quests - the main story’s simplicity seems to render everything else rather empty. For me, it’s hard not to measure it against something like Silent Hill 2, which is rich in themes of mental health, depression and trauma but weaves them effortlessly into a horror-mystery narrative with engaging characters and a world that feels lived in and not quite as abstract.
Still, Hellblade remains a sensory assault, particularly for fans of horror and adventure. It’s a real shame that the Norse mythology aspect now gets roped in with 2018's God of War, which feels like Disney in comparison.