Due to a love for runnin’ and gunnin’ clashing with a natural aversion to gory braineaters, I usually approach new zombie games with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. But not Dying Light: The Beast. This time, I just couldn’t wait to jump into the fray. And I’ve got Hollow Knight: Silksong to thank for that.
Yes, a certain popular Metroidvania has left me traumatized enough to make the post-apocalyptic world seem welcoming by comparison. Thank you, Team Cherry, for curing my fear of zombies.
Visually speaking, Dying Light should be the scarier of the two games; it’s way darker, there’s heaps of gore, and zombies will try to bite your face off – which, in a first-person perspective, feels way more personal than watching Hornet getting slapped from afar. On top of that, most bugs in Silksong are surprisingly cute, especially the Lost Fleas and the Bell Beast (but not you, Nuu, you creepy pink Pingu), which is something you can’t say about zombies.
Why, then, is it Silksong that haunts my nightmares? Part of the reason is the difficulty level and the stress that comes with it; most deaths in Dying Light are avoidable if you’re careful, but Silksong deaths are almost mandatory. Silksong is like taking a strict licensing exam; I could prepare all I want for the Last Judge, but one wrong move and it’s all over. In Dying Light, I entered the second boss arena before realizing I’d brought no weapon, and just pummeled the fiend with my bare hands – no problem!
Of course, Dying Light’s mid- to late-game chimeras — the mutant zombie bosses — are more difficult to defeat, but none of them made me want to yeet my computer out the window quite like dying during Last Judge’s death animation did. (Yes, that really happened, and yes, Silksong made me restart the whole fight.)
Scarier than any in-your-face dangers, though, are the unexpected threats in Silksong. Whenever I enter a new area, my head is full of thoughts like “Please don’t spawn a boss,” “Please just get me a bench”… And then I get stuck in a nightmarish labyrinth of fog, or kidnapped by a dungfly and dropped bug-naked in an unknown dungeon. Exploring Dying Light’s gloomy abandoned buildings and sludgy sewers doesn’t sound overly appealing either, but at least I know exactly what kind of mayhem awaits.
Silksong’s true horror, however, is parkour. Free of deadly red spikes and pesky flower buds, Dying Light’s rooftop-running extravaganza is pure bliss in comparison. Whereas those vicious bugs keep messing up my pogo-platforming attempts, the zombies are kind enough to move at the speed of a slug while failing to understand the concept of climbing.
You know that moment when there’s an ever-growing zombie horde trailing behind you (volatiles aside), and then you jump on a car and watch them trying to grope you with their nasty undead hands, but they can’t touch you? I don’t know what this says about me, psychologically speaking, but that’s been nothing short of therapeutic to me. I’ve only felt this sense of satisfaction once while playing Silksong, when I found a corner in Moorwing’s boss arena that shielded me from his attacks.
I have to admit, though, that there’s one aspect of Dying Light’s parkour that makes me shudder in a way Silksong never could, and that’s the heights. Whereas Hornet’s ankles are unbreakable, Kyle Crane just can’t keep still when he’s standing on a ledge, and his balancing attempts actually make it harder not to end up more lifeless than the zombies. Hornet’s got 99 problems, but fall damage isn’t one – though the prospect of falling to my doom is still less intimidating than attempting to climb Mount Fay again.
You must be thinking, “Wow, she really hates Silksong,” but you couldn’t be further from the truth. I love Silksong, far more than Dying Light to be honest, but it’s draining. Having spent many hours in Pharloom, I really needed a break from endless deathruns, and surprisingly enough, the zombie apocalypse is where I found it.
