The dreary regions of the dead where hard drives are forgot...

It's time for more screenshots today and at the moment, I'm revisiting Hellblade on the Steam Deck, thankfully a breeze to get going after the amount of faff involved with setting up other things. Control, perhaps unsurprisingly, was a bit of a sod to set up (thank you to some kind stranger on the internet for putting up a bundle of settings that balance nice visuals with the game running properly because man alive, I was completely lost at sea with that lot.) Also, for some reason, Prey was hell bent on crashing out while it was meant to be installing. No idea what the problem was but I had to keep an eye on the machine for ages, then run the risk of restarting GOG Galaxy and just hope that it wouldn't lose the progress with the installation after an hour and a half... but yes, it's on there now, ready to go. That's the main thing. Not quite fun 'n' games in the traditional sense, but here we are.

While all this was going on, I also took a run at tidying up the computer-gubbins box and found the OG external hard drive, the mighty King Fossil, which started the whole thing with naming computer stuff after Darius references. Turns out there's a load of old files that need doubling up on more recent backups, so that's something to attend to sooner rather than later. One folder bore the wistful name of "Pre-Windows 11 backup". Mmmm. And that's where these screenshots were lurking, from 2021, and the PS4 version of Hellblade. Shall we dive in?

Not going deep into the obligatory mental health discourse because it's been done to death, and I don't really feel that there's anything I constructive I could add to the discussion. Also, as a person with a long-standing mental healths issue of my own, I have noticed the way that tends to eclipse and/or discolour everything else about you as a person, which is demoralising at best, dehumanising at worst, so I tend to avoid the subject as much as possible unless it's legitimately productive to talk about it. My stance on the handling of mental illness here could best be summarised as "It's clearly well-intentioned but the overall impact is let down by a lack of subtlety and maturity in the writing."

As it is, revisiting this game after a few years left me with a cocktail of mixed feelings, some things it does superbly, others are just leaving me wondering "How the hell did this pass muster?!" all over again. I came along with an open mind, willing to be warmer towards it, and my overall impressions have thawed quite substantially since last time, but at the same time, I'm still quite internally divided about it.

So, onto the tasty stuff: Getting back into the combat has been really enjoyable; the strong focus on substantial, crunchy, hooligan-energy-infused scrums is delicious. Noone can convince me that just shooting the Bad Things is the way forward when you can literally charge headlong towards the enemy, boot them in the sternum and then lay into them with the sword. The combat doesn't seem to have won over a lot of other people but personally, I love this kind of design where you're given a minimalist toolbox and just sent on your way to get creative with it. Give me that over menu diving, grinding and skill trees any day of the week, and I will dine like royalty.

The environment design is also superb, with sumptuous attention to detail; we've got knotwork-laden monoliths dotting the landscape; the imposing ruins of Viking longships slowly rotting on the shore; distant landmarks quietly hinting at where Senua's heading on her journey, it's all very compelling. Sometimes it is genuinely pleasant as well; we're treated to beautiful meadows, serene waterfalls, even a ruined building feels welcoming when it's drenched in golden sunlight and lovely flowering plants.

On a significantly less positive note: the acting work is inconsistent and as a result, it breaks immersion quite frequently... partly because I was too busy rolling my eyes and occasionally going "Oh, fuck off" at various points. Don't get me wrong, Melina Juergens puts in a compelling, believable performance and Oliver Walker brings Dillion to life as a lovable, gentle bloke - absolutely worth thundering off to Helheim for, he's a keeper! - but when it comes to much of the supporting cast, it's very GCSE Drama in places and as hinted at above, their dialogue/narration likewise is written to an amateur hour standard at best. It really would've benefitted from giving us more breathing room, leaving the audience to interpret more of it under their own steam because as it is, it skirts dangerously close to spoonfeeding every beat of the narrative to the audience, which always grinds my gears. It's frustrating overall because some moments properly hit home in a way that is deeply uncomfortable to sit with, but necessary and impactful. The glimmer of potential is definitely there, but for the most part, it suffers under this excessive churn of explanation.

The main grating point, unsurprisingly, is the Furies. Their presence is understandable but their chatter is uninspired and their delivery comes across like something off one of those cheesy goth rock albums from the mid-noughties, when they're taking a painfully forced crack at being eccentric (sorry if you're into that, but personally, I don't have the time of day for it and will not be convinced otherwise under any circumstances.) The narrator, who seems separate from the other Furies, possibly Galena, not entirely sure, but either way, she's the main offender when it comes to holding the audience's hand too much. Maybe her presence is meant to provide an outside perspective on the story, but again, that perspective would be better left up to the audience to work out for themselves.

Also, my old nemesis: the swamp shard trial remains a ferociously irritating part of the game. I love a challenge and on an artistic level, it could've done really well as something intense and unsettling with effective social commentary to boot, if only it weren't for the controls going raw bloody haywire in this section. This isn't a hardware issue, or a glitch, it's a design issue. The problem is that crouching to get through narrow spaces is done automatically; that's fine when you're in a slow paced part of the game, but when you're hurrying away from a sentient flame in a maze, then your goose (and our protagonist) is cooked. Going under a damaged wall, if you're met with an immediate corner, you're liable to wind up caught in a loop of endlessly going back and forth under the damaged wall until the flame comes to put you out of your misery, because of clunky navigation rubbing up against the automatic clambering under the wall... yeah. Suffice to say, I put Derek and Clive to shame over that one. I don't normally get stroppy over video games but bloody hell, that was annoying.

Grievances aired, let's get back onto the positives. When the controls aren't being a nuisance, I do enjoy the puzzle design in this game; the use of optical illusions within the scenery is an interesting play on pareidolia, neatly tying together a modern understanding of human psychology with the way that people of early civilisations understood the world, seeing magic in the mundane. It's relatively simplistic but it's thoughtfully woven into the environment and the story, with a refreshingly light touch that goes some way to balancing out the heavy-handedness in other areas. Complex puzzles that you can really dig into will always win the day in this house, but there's a lot to be said for less fussy things when they're implemented well.

The tower is a highlight in this regard as well, as the meat of the puzzle is navigating between two different versions of the same environment; one in a stormy, rain-lashed night, the other in a calm and gently invigorating sunrise, both in different states of disrepair which block or facilitate our progress at different points. The design of this puzzle on a mechanical level is enjoyable to solve and in terms of the narrative, it dovetails with Senua's internal conflict in a poignant way. Both the setting and mechanical design come together to bolster the emotional beats of the scene in an elegant way. Sadly, this area is also marred by the excessive and frankly inane input from the Furies but because of its strengths, I'm willing to let that slide just this once, as it is one of my favourite parts of the game.

The inclusion of lore stones is another appealing touch; by turns, Druth's retellings of Norse mythology give us lighter moments to ease the tension, and thematic parallels with Senua's journey. They also provide us with context in a way that doesn't hold up the flow of the story, which is something I'm always happy to see. Oh, and despite my previous criticisms about the state of the acting (which still stand), I could actually listen to Druth talk all day. A gruff voice and an Irish accent will do that a person. Mmm!

Like I said - mixed, jagged, conflicted feelings all round. Anyway, let's get onto these pictures (well, more of them.)

This one was meant to be a serious shot but if anything, it looks like everyone's muggin' it for the camera.

This, again, was meant to be a serious action shot but it looks a bit cheeky. That monster off to the side is enjoying himself, anyway (until he gets his head kicked in, that is.)

Satisfying swooshes while kicking off at Surtr.

Something a bit more sedate now, enjoying the sunshine and lovely reflections on the water as we leave Valravn's base of operations.

The end result of yours truly trying to do that geyser puzzle towards the last third of Spirit of the North... (it was initially a Tomorrow Alex Problem, now likely to be postponed to sometime nearer the inevitable heat death of the universe... well, it's something to aim for.)