Flesh Made Fear Review (PC)

Isn’t it ironic how we bicker and moan about the lack of modern remakes, but then naturally revert back to the original incarnations to scratch that itch? Take Resident Evil, for example. In the aftermath of its resurrection as a modern remake, we didn’t turn to the prospect of a sequel; we went back to Alisa, Murder House and Rewind or Die. Perhaps there’s something about it—the fixed camera angles; the tank controls; the shockingly comical audiovisual effects; the fact that, maybe, it brings us that much closer to our younger years. And, I think that’s what Flesh Made Fear both knows and, more importantly, wants to capitalize on: the seasoned gamers who would happily sacrifice their own right leg to experience “just one more” romp through the woods. It doesn’t strive to be perfect; it simply yearns to be authentic.

Flesh Made Fear is a classic survival horror game that openly wears its heart on its sleeve, without the quips of a modernized tribute, and without the unnecessary filler that, frankly, adds little to no value to the overall experience whatsoever. No, Flesh Made Fear takes the proper route—the path of nineties-esque jank and nostalgic gameplay mechanics, jagged corners and questionable puzzles. It’s Resident Evil with a twist; it’s an ode to a timeless genre and, above all, our joint fixation with old-school horrors, warts and all.

To state the obvious, Flesh Made Fear isn’t teeming with carb-loaded effects and cinematic tearaways. Rather, the game bathes in its primordial form—in an almost barebones vessel that favors minimalistic design and shoddy execution. If that doesn’t sound like your idea of a good time, then you might want to click out of this thread and seek shelter in an alternate shore.

Back to the Basics

Flesh Made Fear aligns you with the Reaper Intervention Platoon (R.I.P), a covert task force that was conceived with one goal in mind: to thwart the so-called Victor “The Dripper” Ripper—a once-renowned CIA agent whose “experiments” took a rather twisted turn during the latter part of his career—and abolish the threats that were birthed as a result of his failure.

In this rather twisted tale, we take on the role of an elite covert operative whose sole purpose is to unravel the mysteries pertaining to Victor’s experiments and his work. Alone, we begin our journey through the warped world of a mist-shrouded city-turned-cesspit—a seemingly endless hole in which monsters lurk and tainted realities bleed through the veil of faux blueprints. A mansion hangs in the dark, and a trove of puzzles loom in the crags and crevices. Thus, we have our first hurdle: a world drenched in fog and strange creatures, and a dozen questions without answers.

Flesh Made Fear represents the best parts of nostalgic PSX horror stories. It’s so on the nose, in fact, that you could quite easily slip behind the trigger and feel close to the heart of a Resident Evil doppelgänger. It’s oh-so-pulpy and passively entertaining, despite being associated with a casket of laughable fodder. But that is the thing that makes it so special: the fact that it leans into its imperfections to create an authentic experience. It doesn’t always work, but it’s evident that the devs went through the ringer to conceive a world that is both reminiscent of a timeless cult classic and extremely entertaining to flick through both as a newcomer and a returning veteran.

An Ode to the Classics

Flesh Made Fear doesn’t shy away from the pulpy nature of dated survival horror games, that much is true. Yet, surprisingly, it does envelope some of its own unique twists, including immersive theatrics and a slightly more modernized control system. Beneath all of this, of course, are the four horsemen of PSX: limited save files; bizarre puzzles; strict inventory management; and fixed camera combat. Naturally, Flesh Made Fear relies on all of these elements as a sort of crutch, yet simultaneously adopts a modern form to effectively abolish all of the worst possible components of a traditional camera-hugging third-person shooter. And, to give credit where it’s due, it pulls it out of the bag incredibly well.

Suffice it to say that, for a horror that bends and weans to the half-baked shoddiness of PSX horror, Flesh Made Fear does manage to execute a pretty spectacular job of highlighting all of the best aspects. In addition to it being in receipt of all of the pulpy goodness, it also features a gripping narrative that leaves a lot of great surprises. It’s a little Silent Hill-ish in its own way I’ll admit, but for every tongue-in-cheek reference it makes, it thankfully balances out with its own special twist, be it a cinematic curveball or an in-house puzzle of some kind.

The audiovisual elements are exactly what you would expect them to be: jagged, sloppy, and on the fringe of comical. But again, that’s the all-round aesthetic that it favors, and not to mention a visual palette that, frankly, doesn’t really need to be justified. The fact that the game plays well just sort of puts everything in its place, warts and all.

Verdict

Flesh Made Fear returns to its roots as a full-fledged ode to PSX survival horror that simply yearns to resonate with its target demographic in the cleanest way imaginable. With thanks to its nonsensical puzzles and tank controls, primal design choices and benchmark implementations, Flesh Made Fear stands out as a force to be reckoned with—a powerhouse of a homage that, in spite of all its minor shortcomings, just feels fantastic to play. And that’s exactly what I’m taking away from all of this: the fact that it embraces a concept and does it justice without relying on modern assets to remediate its flaws. It isn’t perfect. But then, I don’t think that it tries to be, either.

If you’re desperately looking for a new crutch to lean on—a podium that bleeds dated components and PSX audiovisual elements—then you would be right to consider dipping your feet into Flesh Made Fear the next time you’re itching for a nostalgic experience. Heck, even if you’re just clutching at straws and looking to romp through a new survival horror that waxes the best of both worlds, then you ought to give this tribute the attention it deserves.