We are constantly swirling in the stew of misery, confusion and powerlessness of capital. Every conspirator answers to someone else infinitely until the end of time, and nobody's even sure what they're conspiring toward. Enter the survival horror masterpiece, Killer7.

Few games shock me to my core like this one does. Every design decision is on-point, to the extent that explaining the game's intricacies gives too much away. Somehow an on-rails Playstation 2 shooter is the most liquid and heart-pounding shooter I've ever played. Any enemy encounter can be trivial or heart-pounding depending on the layout of the area and configuration of enemies. The fact that Ulmeyda's town or the final school level aren't mentioned in the same breath as the Spencer Mansion or RCPD is a travesty. Especially so considering the sheer expressionistic brilliance of the levels herein and the enigmatic beauty of its characters.

Suda51 gets written off as "janky weird fun" and other nonsense pretty frequently, but it's only half true. Sure the games are weird but the weirdness, like Lynch's weirdness or any other auteur's weirdness, exists to further express the themes. Suda51's characters speak gibberish and dress like anime characters because they're forcing you further into a state of bewilderment and alienating you from the world just as much as the characters do. He's so constantly forced into the "ooooo quirky" mold that his later titles feel forced into doing, losing their thematic weight. Killer7's reception made Grasshopper the most exciting studio making games at the time and may also have sealed their fate.

All said, I am so thankful games like this exist. It's rare a game matches its gameplay's depth with real narrative depth that feels so tied to gaming, especially now as more and more major releases ape prestige television's episodic-but-not structure. Killer7 is a rare game that makes me rethink and reevaluate games as an artform, and truly speaks to how wonderful the medium is.

Reviewed on Jan 19, 2022


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