Their frightening, distorted faces are sometimes covered by masks that represent something going on within the current chapter. The standard enemies are imp-like creatures that are the same height as an eight-year-old. Or at least for the more casual of players. The fact that the first enemy doesn't appear until roughly an hour in tells you everything about the game's priorities but they are frequent enough to sully the whole experience quite a bit. If there is one mechanic that's underbaked it's in the combat. He is your safety blanket for the horrors yet to come. His animations and actions are well observed which help to make this lovable mutt more than just a game mechanic. He'll sniff out important items, hold off enemies and even help with attacking. You are able to save him from a particularly unnerving situation a couple of hour in the game and from then on he'll be a great help. At some point, you'll be introduced to a canine companion named Brown that serves as your only ally throughout the game. Most of the game takes place on a luxurious Zeppelin and not the orphanage itself so any exploration done in the opening section isn't particularly helpful. The game plays a lot like Resident Evil, though I found this game to be far more structured around puzzle solving and esoteric ambience. Quite why a woman in her twenties takes this so seriously is up for speculation (you have to read into the game for any theory which I won't spoil just yet). It has a hierarchy in which the lowliest is subjected to all kinds of humiliating torture. A group of girls have formed a gang called the Aristocrats of the Red Crayon. It is some time after this dream-like opening that any semblance of a plot is introduced. The atmosphere is palpable and coupled with the controversy makes the game a chilling experience. Child-like laughter echoes through the halls and any room you're not allowed to enter will get slammed shut by the giggling girl from the other side. If that's not creepy enough, the inside of the building is even worse. Through the gates, a couple of children hidden behind paper-bag masks use bats to beat on a potato sack presumably filled with something living. Soon enough, she comes across an old building that is the orphanage. A mysterious child approached her and, in the first of many nods to Alice in Wonderland, she follows him into a place where nothing is what it seems. Set in an orphanage located in the English countryside during the 1930s, the game begins with our adult protagonist, Jennifer, stepping off a bus in the middle of nowhere. The non-linear way it's told and the penchant for metaphor over direct storytelling can make it a bit impenetrable for some, but it ultimately demands contemplation and discussion.
The game tells a rather disturbing, yet oddly beautiful tale of adolescence and female identity. It can currently go for upwards of £300 for the EU and US versions. The result is that this has become the Holy Grail of PlayStation 2 library and therefore the most expensive.
The controversy was even an excuse for Sony, who published it in Japan, to wash their hands of the international release with Atlus handling the US and 505 Game Street, a budget publisher, handling the European countries that allowed it. Punchline refused to remove a particularly leery scene (one that was important to the overall plot) and so, my Amazon pre-order could not be fulfilled. If anything the children are the torturers. Other countries also took issue with the game, but I have to mention France in particular who banned it for child torture, which doesn't actually happen. The reason for it being denied a release here was due to some scenes that suggested an inappropriate relationship with a minor.
Like The Exorcist before it, this twisted tale of juvenile depravity was banned in the UK. Why are creepy kids so disturbing? From The Omen to The Exorcist, the perverted innocent trope has always been a controversial one, and Punchline's 2006 survival horror, Rule of Rose, is no different.
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