My Mid 2000’s childhood was constantly floored with video games of all rounds. I grew up with the gamecube, along with plethora of Sonic related games filling the catalog among the classics (Smash Brothers, Super Mario Sunshine, etc). My next door neighbor and a handful of my classmates subscribed to the Xbox: Halo, Assassin’s Creed, etc. How much of my experience playing these games, I always draw back to the connections I had with people. Community is important to me, especially connected with the fabric of the collective gaming monoculture. Compared to today, it’s so far removed.
One summer day, I was over at a party with my family and parts of a church congregation I was formerly associated with. One of the youth members, similar to my age, had his PlayStation 2 out on a standard TV stand, and his large CRT displayed this bombastic blond blasting through hordes of plagued villagers in Spain. The environment was gritty, desolate, but it feels quite like home. Minus the spray of bullets lodged in their bodies. Ah, the memories.
Resident Evil is now 30 years old. I’m aware how much its influences perpetrated in its media; horror movies homages, bio experiment plot lines, and the human condition wrapped up with a magazine clip. I knew about it for a long time. Resident Evil 4 is my first experience as a child, but it was mainly my only one. I haven’t touched the series in years, only by an itch after RE9 was around the corner and I returned; restarted a run of original RE4, along purchasing its remake and RE2 Remake recently. Immediately, I fell in love with the series again.
No idea how my childhood self was able to stomach the horrors, as I was screaming most of the time playing the original RE4. The set pieces are tame but more of the anticipation of personal space being invaded by hostile forces. And the one-liners? Oh goodness. The camp was impeccable, almost endearing. My 11-year-old mind may not register the dialogue when I first saw Mr. Kennedy. Now as an adult, each line spoken by the characters feel like a surreal fever dream. Leon is a cool guy too; I fancy a man who kicks ass but indirectly humorous in tone. I trust him to take down anything coming my way like a guardian angel, my savior. I only cope through the stressful moments knowing he got my back.
Thriller horror and humor are two sides of the same, rusted coin. How can you make unsettling situations when a laugh can be uttered in the same vein? Dispelling anxiety with a slight chuckle, just to get through the onslaught of terror and survive another day. It’s no different why the success of these games and the genre itself is comforting for folks. The power of control beyond an interactive medium, the control of experience. No surprise how RE had some indirect influences with the writing, character design, and overt vibes for some of the stories I want to share. Albeit not one to one, but if you squint hard enough, it is there to some extent.
By the time I post this, I’m going through the RE2 remake under Leon’s scenario in the police station. I never played the original RE2, but I heard the remake was a hit with my peers with some caveats for those who played the original. As I go experiencing a younger Leon (who is a little more startled than I’ve seen in the English localization of RE4) and the dire circumstances where my resources are thinning out than I can think, it encapsulates the feeling of helplessness and perseverance. Also, annoyance being munched by dead people constantly that you can’t help but kick your chair a few times. I’m looking forward how everything unfolds, and I’m not ready. I don’t need to be.
Despite the flaws, I love these games. I love Leon Kennedy and the legacy he left behind. I hope I’ll be able to enjoy RE9 when I get around it, and I wonder how to weave its influences to future narratives of my own.