There are three ways to approach Fear & Hunger. Yes, this is an overly reductive take, but bear with me.
The first approach is casual. Load it up, wander around, lose your shit at the first sight of a stinger, die early, and then quit and experience the game vicariously via YouTube. Approached this way, F&H is actually a great experience. It has a unique aesthetic and broaches topics that rarely appear in the medium of games.
The second approach is hardcore. Play for a while, die a lot, double down, study the wiki, learn the best strategies, take advantage of the game’s secrets, and become an F&H expert. For gamers who want to dig in deep, F&H can also be an excellent game. It offers all sorts of mechanics, many of which are hidden, for tenacious players to discover and exploit. Likewise, it’s packed with rewarding secrets for those willing to put in the work. Notably, players who play this way are also the ones who make captivating Let’s Play videos of the game.
Which brings us to the third way, a middle approach which falls between the first two. More dedicated than casual, but not as deep-diving as hardcore. This is where I fall in the F&H spectrum, and as you probably guessed from the two-star rating I slapped on this review, I did not have a good time.
The biggest issue for me is time. Fear & Hunger is a slow game. Your character walks like they’re wearing stone boots. Yes, there are ways to move faster, but you won’t find them unless you engage in lots of trial and error or read a guide.
The slow pace is exacerbated by the fact that life or death is often predicated a literal coinflip. Yes, there are many ways to avoid coinflips – methods which you can learn via extensive trial and error or guides. If you’re really crafty, you can even find a way to turn the coin flips in your favor – but it’s a secret you’re unlikely to discover without the help of a guide.
Personally, I found that the slow pace and chance-based deaths worked against the horror elements. Horror works best when there’s a sense of relief every now and then, but here it’s all tension all the time. Likewise for the obscenity: The game turns the flesh up to 11 early, and after ten or fifteen minutes I was completely inured to the depravity. When everything is obscene, nothing is.
After a few failed runs, I grew tired of the tedium. Under most circumstances I would’ve just dropped the game, but it was the game of the month for a group I’m in, so I felt compelled to finish it. So instead of quitting I downloaded a “Game Genie-fied” version (whoops – my age is showing) of the game that gave me lots of extra weapons and items and plowed my way through.
A few hours later, I limped across the finish line. Burnt out as I was, I was still feeling curious about why everyone else loves this game, so I jumped over to YouTube and watched a few Let’s Plays. Taking a step back like this, extricating myself from the brutality, helped me appreciate the game more. The art is lovely, and there are all sorts of cool mechanics that I didn’t even know existed.
That’s good and all. But it doesn’t change the fact that my experience playing the game was less Fear & Hunger and more Tedium & Frustration.
The first approach is casual. Load it up, wander around, lose your shit at the first sight of a stinger, die early, and then quit and experience the game vicariously via YouTube. Approached this way, F&H is actually a great experience. It has a unique aesthetic and broaches topics that rarely appear in the medium of games.
The second approach is hardcore. Play for a while, die a lot, double down, study the wiki, learn the best strategies, take advantage of the game’s secrets, and become an F&H expert. For gamers who want to dig in deep, F&H can also be an excellent game. It offers all sorts of mechanics, many of which are hidden, for tenacious players to discover and exploit. Likewise, it’s packed with rewarding secrets for those willing to put in the work. Notably, players who play this way are also the ones who make captivating Let’s Play videos of the game.
Which brings us to the third way, a middle approach which falls between the first two. More dedicated than casual, but not as deep-diving as hardcore. This is where I fall in the F&H spectrum, and as you probably guessed from the two-star rating I slapped on this review, I did not have a good time.
The biggest issue for me is time. Fear & Hunger is a slow game. Your character walks like they’re wearing stone boots. Yes, there are ways to move faster, but you won’t find them unless you engage in lots of trial and error or read a guide.
The slow pace is exacerbated by the fact that life or death is often predicated a literal coinflip. Yes, there are many ways to avoid coinflips – methods which you can learn via extensive trial and error or guides. If you’re really crafty, you can even find a way to turn the coin flips in your favor – but it’s a secret you’re unlikely to discover without the help of a guide.
Personally, I found that the slow pace and chance-based deaths worked against the horror elements. Horror works best when there’s a sense of relief every now and then, but here it’s all tension all the time. Likewise for the obscenity: The game turns the flesh up to 11 early, and after ten or fifteen minutes I was completely inured to the depravity. When everything is obscene, nothing is.
After a few failed runs, I grew tired of the tedium. Under most circumstances I would’ve just dropped the game, but it was the game of the month for a group I’m in, so I felt compelled to finish it. So instead of quitting I downloaded a “Game Genie-fied” version (whoops – my age is showing) of the game that gave me lots of extra weapons and items and plowed my way through.
A few hours later, I limped across the finish line. Burnt out as I was, I was still feeling curious about why everyone else loves this game, so I jumped over to YouTube and watched a few Let’s Plays. Taking a step back like this, extricating myself from the brutality, helped me appreciate the game more. The art is lovely, and there are all sorts of cool mechanics that I didn’t even know existed.
That’s good and all. But it doesn’t change the fact that my experience playing the game was less Fear & Hunger and more Tedium & Frustration.