In my past five years of gaming, that first night playing Resident Evil 7: Biohazard is one of my top favorite experiences. As a fan who was itching for a return to classic survival horror vibes, Biohazard more than delivered. Not only was I blown away by the southern gothic aesthetic of the game and the abrasive cruelty of its antagonists the Bakers, but I also adored the creeping dread of the atmosphere. It is an environmental presence that still haunts me to this day.
Walking down the corridors of the Baker Family plantation constantly had me on edge; the game utilizes a brilliant level of minimalism that knows how to sucker players into a flow that is relatively chill, only to uppercut with blends of disturbing and violent horror. Biohazard proved to be a remarkable comeback for the Resident Evil games. While sales weren’t horrific for the games previously, many fans wanted a return to those classic mechanics and horror vibes of the earlier entries. And as the franchise’s new protagonist Ethan Winters, one feels a sincere means of disempowerment as compared to the militaresque characters players took on in the past.
I could go on about the many reasons I love Biohazard, but there is a specific element to this game that really got to me, something that has stuck with me for the past five years since its release. You may be a tad surprised, because while that element is not so much a quality of horror – it very much plays into the potential of how invested we become in horror: Romance.
There and then throughout Resident Evil’s gaming history, one will find a line of dialogue or two that reflects some level of romantic gesture or feeling. The overwhelming majority of these are surface level with not much exploration or detail; it wasn’t until Biohazard that we got something much different in terms of character relationships.
A lot of the appeal behind Ethan is his “normality;” not to be repetitious, but he isn’t some trained military person, he’s just a dude. This is a quality found in other horror games that have effective immersive play; if you’re playing a badass warrior, you’re going to feel like a badass through gameplay. Ethan is weak, he fumbles and is not strong in terms of combat. This is felt through gameplay; whereas in Call of Duty controls may feel more fluid, there is somewhat of dissonance in how Ethan acts. I very much liked this quality in him being a protagonist, but I found a greater appeal to him in being a husband, and that of the narrative involving him saving his wife Mia.
When you start Biohazard, you’re introduced to a cutscene that involves Mia on screen sending Ethan a cutesy message. It’s a tad cheesy, but it’s endearing as well. This moment took me back at first; I had never experienced a Resident Evil title be so forward in presenting a romantic relationship. When it comes to protagonists saving loved ones, I’ve experienced more narratives involving parents attempting to save their children or vice versa. Exceptions exist of course where you play a character striving to save a romantic partner, like that of Shadow of the Colossus. It’s just that I found this romantic element to be much more striking in a Resident Evil game.
Besides the past couple titles being much more action-driven, Resident Evil has always been more of a plot over characters type of game; yes, there are fan-favorite characters, but I feel that the appeal of Leon, Claire, and Jill is more so because of their actions in a narrative, and perhaps not so much their character depth and personal lives. Frankly, I don’t find Ethan’s personality to be anything special, but I was really into his love for Mia and playing as a husband desperate to get his spouse back.
At the time of Biohazard’s release, I was a little over a year away from when my wedding would take place. I was engaged at the time to my now spouse, and well before the day we got married, I have always felt and known that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them. It is an extreme example of course, but in Ethan taking off to the Baker plantation to rescue Mia – I could see myself doing something just like that.
In a genre full of grotesque monsters, horrific torture, and existential madness at times – it’s wild the power love can have within a horror story. Romance has had much more spotlight in that of horror cinema, displaying a plethora of characters that’ll go to the ends of the Earth to save those they love. Love is an essence that can push us towards incredible bravery, and even drive us to act irrationally or violently. Horror and love have a bizarre similarity to them, given the intense emotional responses both forms of storytelling can elicit out of audiences.
While I’ll be honest and say I wish Biohazard pushed a little deeper into this element of the game, but what was present was enough to inspire me to progress. Though there are additional layers to that of Biohazard’s story, it is the romance of Ethan and Mia that serves to push the player forward, as well as for what makes the stronger moments of emotional horror. Especially in that early scene where we find Mia in the cell and move with her through the house. I could sense that something was wrong, that the game had to be messing with me – it couldn’t be this easy to find Ethan’s missing wife. When it turns out she is infected with something and turns on you… I can’t really remember the last time I felt so conflicted in a game.
The gamer portion of my brain wanted to fight back and defend my avatar, but the gooey-romance portion of my brain was invested in not hurting Mia. The fight forces the player to kill Ethan’s spouse, the one he has been missing for so long. That final moment of the Mia boss fight – when the player may assume she is down for the count permanently – watching her fall in defeat left me cold. It was a brand of horror no other game had made me feel.
This angle to Resident Evil 7: Biohazard is remarkable within the franchise and a quality with so much potential to be expanded upon. It was an angle that worked to get me even more excited for Resident Evil: Village; with Ethan now having a child, I was intrigued to see how that dynamic would be explored through the game.
Am I saying Resident Evil needs to undergo a brand change and become this more serious form of storytelling? No of course not. Resident Evil wouldn’t be what it is without a certain level of cheese, sci-fi action, and intense survival horror gameplay. But if developers want to create immersive horror experiences that get players to feel – that encourage them to progress forth in action – what a hell of a way to do than with love. It would be awesome to see future Resident Evil games explore this subject, even just a little more. I imagine a new entry that introduces new characters – maybe another intimate, unnerving setting – and what one’s journey might be like if we felt inspired to protect and save characters our protagonist loves.
Years ago, before Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, I never thought a Resident Evil title would get me to talk about romance as much as this. But that’s part of the remarkable quality that is Biohazard.
The post How Love Drives Horror: Looking Back On ‘Resident Evil 7: Biohazard’ Through The Lens Of Romance appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.