Holiday Harry Review (PC)

If Don Mancini can spearhead the notion that friendly dolls can both stalk and ultimately slaughter their owners, then developer SnowConeSolid Productions can also turn the beloved Elf on the Shelf into a blood-obsessed slasher flick, complete with all of the eighties pulp and absurdly comical death sequences that you would typically expect to find in a B-movie horror à la Child’s Play. Don’t get me wrong, just saying it out loud feels ridiculous; the mere thought of a cheerful yet psychopathic mascot with a sickly vengeance gives me the jitters — and not in a good way. It almost feels like a concept that shouldn’t work. Yet, if Chucky can make it to the mainstream, then there’s nothing to say that a knife-wielding elf can’t blaze a similar trail. Heck, just check out post-public domain Steamboat Willie.

The idea behind Holiday Harry is ridiculous, but at no point does it shy away from that fact. No, the truth is, the game openly embraces its own stupidity and its questionable tastes, which essentially translates into a parody over a traditional horror experience. It’s silly — but that’s precisely what it aims for. It’s messy, odd, and absolutely bursting at the seams with festive pulp, with all of the baubles and flamboyant decor of an old vintage video rental store. And, if you are wondering whether or not it’s a good game, eh — it is and it isn’t; it’s a niche market that, frankly, probably has fewer followers than a playable love letter to Trolls: Remix Rescue. No offense, Poppy.

Truth be told, I’m all for the idea of warping realities and transforming childhood memories into slasher flicks. The Elf on the Shelf idea is, well, it’s different, though it’s also hardly a concept that feels out of place in a world that will literally turn Mickey Mouse into a flesh-deprived killer. Years ago, it might have been a little on-the-nose, so to speak. But now, killer mascots are commonplace. Thanks, Chucky — kids are crying now.

‘Tis the Season to be Killing

The game itself can be played in a single sitting, which means one thing: you can see all there is to see and, more importantly, do all that there is to do without needing to drown yourself in jargon and far-fetched plot points. It’s a cliche with bells on it—a festive supper that utilizes the spirit of eighties slasher horror to stir the broth. With that, you won’t find anything particularly interesting here, but rather, a quick romp through a low-poly universe in which naughty elves wield deadly weapons, and a desperate householder craves to establish the perfect setting for a festive tribulation.

As I said, there isn’t much of a plot for you to formally analyze here. To cut it short, you take on the role of a young woman who, after inheriting her late grandma’s home, decides to host a Christmas party to celebrate the holidays. Herein lies the catch: an oddly sadistic elf also wants to join in and, for some reason, thwart your efforts by mindlessly pursuing you. Why? Well, why not, I guess? It’s Chucky all over again, but with bells and whistles, stripy socks and adorable knitwear. But that’s about the gist of it. There’s a small home, a roaming elf with a blade, and a lot of cat-and-mouse chases that require you to strafe and bolt around.

There’s a short game here that doesn’t require much of you other than a feeble attempt to dodge its elvish fiend, and explore an eighties-inspired festive home in an old-school setting. Mechanic-wise, there isn’t a lot for you to wrap your head around, as it’s more or less condensed into a liminal experience that relies on PSX synergies and control systems, i.e. walking, running, and inspecting the occasional item. In other words, if you’ve played Resident Evil or, say, 40 Winks, then you’ve more or less played Holiday Harry.

Finding the Holiday Spirit

Holiday Harry takes full advantage of its retro look with a low-poly VHS aesthetic and, in an attempt to reinvigorate the spirit of PSX, a bite-sized aspect ratio that will keep you squinting and scratching your head for all the while you don the party planner. It’s simple, and it certainly captures the heart and soul of an old-school corridor romper, but that’s sort of the image that it tries to portray. Granted, it’s a little messy, and the choppy camera angles don’t exactly compliment the experience, either. But, for what it’s worth, it is an authentic representation that doesn’t turn a blind eye to the time-appropriate flaws of a traditional PSX horror.

For a love letter to dated stocking fillers, you can definitely expect to find your fair share of technical issues here. Although thematically on point, Holiday Harry does frequently come across as a hot mess with one too many missing pieces of the jigsaw puzzle. The movement can be somewhat finicky, and the general performance is a little worse for wear. Don’t get me wrong, it plays well enough for you to glide through the motions, but to say that it purposely avoids the trademark qualities of a dated format wouldn’t be true. Still, it check all of the right boxes, and that counts for a lot, even if it is a little, shall we say, shoddy.

Verdict

Holiday Harry leans into old-school traditions with a festively apt VHS experience that feels more like an ode to the wondrous world of parody than a tilt of the bauble to scarily rich slasher flicks. It’s a comedy with a glimmer of Child’s Play—a sadistic yet humorous pantomime that instills more comedic relief than bone-shattering terror. But, again, I think that’s sort of what it tries to convey, so I can’t quite bring myself to complain about it. It’s stupid — but in the best sense of the word.

Of course, if you are looking to slot yourself into a picture-perfect festive tale with gleaming aesthetics and a powerful message, then you might want to look elsewhere to scratch that seasonal itch. If it’s a quick and simple nod to Child’s Play that tickles your fancy, however, then you should consider taking the time to warm your mitts up by this festive fireplace. It won’t put you in the holiday spirit, but it ought to give you another reason to hate the Elf of the Shelf. Swings and roundabouts, I guess.