The DNA of 90’s survival horror is survived through the burgeoning indie space. Renditions in the AAA sphere of gaming often stray from the hallmarks of the 90’s – a la fixed camera angles, wrestling with obtuse controls and the low poly art style. These core tenements are not only preserved in SFB games’ 2024 title, Crow Country but are revised, remixed and distilled into a title befitting of a faithful permutation upon a solidified formula and aesthetic. Mara, the manic-pixie protagonist of the game, is a detective journeying to the theme park on the pretence of a missing persons case. Though this decaying domain is home to far more than stolen souls and rusted scenery. Crow Country, uses its front-facing facade to conceal a warped tale of corporate greed and cosmic meddling.
Facades, thrill-rides and flayed flesh.
Secret labs, remote manors, antiquated castles, bunkers and unseen villages are the traditional backdrops for survival horror titles both new and old. But, if you’re anything like me, the allure of theme parks (an irrational fear of clowns) and the ailing iconography associated with them, will garner a few memories both sour and joyful. My only taste of this backdrop was Silent Hill 3’s opening sequence – an admittedly short lived but befittingly terrifying sequence which served more so as a tone setter than a fully fledged environment. Luckily Crow country weaponises this uncanny environment to its benefit. Haunted houses, decaying aquariums, dusted eateries, liminal corridors and a cheesy forest section merging myth and fantasy culminate in the eponymous Crow Country theme park. Dense, interconnected and ample for backtracking – it serves as an excellent navigational challenge which becomes populated by the macabre, malicious traps and the uncanny folk who’ve amassed on this mysterious park.
It’s worth noting that the game forgoes the use of pre-rendered backgrounds, an archetypal trick of the 90’s era. Instead, opting for fully-rendered 3D environments and models. Culminating in a suitably uncanny rendition, befitting of this uncanny land and warped mimicry of titles long passed.
The crumbling environments are underpinned by droning, synth-led ambiance. Each area comes tied with its own theme intrinsic to the imagery and iconography associated with it. The phantom-esque ambiance of the haunted house, symphonies of the ocean contorted in the aquarium and the fantastical threads of sound which wed with the forest section. In the case of the former, the area’s soundtracks are reflective of scenery and mood, aptly leaning into the cheap reinterpretations of these tropes theme parks encapsulate.
Beneath this festering veneer dwells a Subterranean section, blood-tinged and rusted, a warring hell of flesh and machinery, wholly divorced from the saccharin estimations of fictional lands above. Housing whispers of a mining project gone awry, corporate meddling and celestial dabblings verging on the Lovecraftian – Crow Country plays its hand with measure, gradually drip-feeding fragments of the plot. Utilising its dysfunctional cast of schemers, miscreants, lawyers and detectives to convey this tale from a slew of angles. This bunch are memorable in their design and though they aren’t voice-acted, their dialogue conveys enough character to negate this as a possible issue.
Run ‘n’ gun.
Mara, unlike the archetypal survival horror protagonist, is swift on her feet. Why bring this up? Well, the usual horror arises from the sense of navigational optimisation, enemy evasion and chance encounters. Indeed, all of these are employed by Crow Country, however, Mara’s mobility can often negate enemy encounters entirely. The stray hits amassed throughout my time with Leon of RE2 and Harry of Silent Hill fame, both came due to my fear of engaging with enemies and falling victim to their traversal speed. Granted, they have all the grace of a reversing cruise liner, but, going with the seafaring metaphors, Mara is akin to a jetski in her movement. Enemy engagement and combat can often feel entirely optional to a detrimental extent – particularly with a movement upgrade I acquired around the halfway mark. By proxy of this, the enemy threat felt greatly reduced and thus my fear of their presence was also diminished somewhat. I don’t want to downplay the designs here. Hulking leviathans pulled from the base of the Mariana trench, flayed humanoids, puddles of sentient gore and elongated skeletal frames patrol the enshrouded streets of Crow country – all of which, amount in a fittingly disturbing design roster for the game’s enemies.
Weaponry in Crow Country is broad, distinct and capable of dispatching the virulent humanoids that oppose you. There’s flame throwers, pistols, shotguns and heavy weaponry (best left for you to discover), all of which can be found through exploration or puzzle-solving. This loop of scouring and discovery extends to ammo and item acquisition. Trash Cans dotted around the park conceal ammo and healing items. This dice roll will not always provide abundant returns though. Though there were a few occasions where the pitiful visage of a decayed apple or banana peel laughed at me.
Loop-de-loop.
What does outshine the combat is the varied logic-based puzzles. Another core tenement of survival horror which Crow Country gracefully captures. I found myself completing arcade machine minigames, locating obscure items, entering shooting galleries, playing keys on an antiquated organ to unlock secret doors and noting subtle environmental solutions too. This culmination results in a nigh-on immaculate array of puzzles which forgo any sag or cumulative boredom on the player’s behalf. I’ve undergone two play throughs of Crow country and the puzzles were a delight to return to.
The familiar creep of uncovering routes, shortcuts and new territory shines here. The environmental variety bolsters this sensation, rewarding the player with continually differential areas, decor and twisted scenery. Whilst the initial sections may feel miniscule in scope, by the four to five hour mark Crow Country had evolved into a sprawling, interconnected labyrinth of disparate and distinct areas to navigate. This loop of explorative inquisition, tribulations, backtracking and drip-fed story beats ensured that my time with the game felt equally rewarding as it did mystifyingly fascinating.
Conclusion.
Crow Country is a strong entry into the growing trend of Indie throwback horror. Blending uncanny environments, narrative density, B-movie archetypes and meticulous puzzle solving – amounting to a dense 4-5 hour experience with the allure of replay value and new game plus unlocks. Both faithful and permutative, playful and disturbing, the balance is never tipped nor outshone by either. It’s a great tell to discern whether a game is merely a pale imitation for a modern audience or a transfigurative entry. Crow Country borrows from its predecessors and contemporaries, blending these ingredients and hallmarks into an experience and setting which stands out in the modern era of the low-poly renaissance.
Score: 8.5
- Traversal and environmental exploration
- Faithful and permutative soundtrack
- Strong characterisation
- Enemy encounters negated by movement speed