Shadows of the Damned is a paradox.
It’s the product of three acclaimed creators each considered a master of their respective craft mimicking the same sort of B-movie many professional filmmakers (aside from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, of course) scorn. It’s crude, lewd, sophomoric, and — most damningly — not nearly as action-packed as it thinks.
In defiance of all this, the game has an undeniable charm. It’s colorful, its cast is charismatic, and while it has more than its share of Suda51’s trademark Dadaist quirks, they’re still largely not so bizarre as to drive non-fans away.
But I hope you can stomach dick jokes, because good lord.
Mexican demon hunter Garcia F*cking Hotspur (yes, that’s his name) may be foul-mouthed, almost illiterate, and crass, but he loves his girl Paula something fierce. So when Fleming, lord of all demons and creepy sex offender, first kills her and then kidnaps her because Garcia won’t acknowledge the demon lord has a bigger metaphorical penis, our hero leaps in after his beloved without so much as putting on a shirt, armed only with his trusty ex-demon companion and weapon: Johnson.
Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t write this stuff.
So begins the odyssey of a man and his Johnson through the depths of a Hell both bizarre and somehow banal. It’s a grim, ugly place, littered with corpses (particularly dead women) and gore, gloomy as a run-down casino in its neon illumination, and governed by surreal rules. In this Hell, darkness consumes living flesh (but rejuvenates demons), light is explosive, weapons fire bones (your pistol’s called the Boner) and teeth, and alcohol is a panacea for all your health woes. Everything is tacky, tawdry, and worn down — more Screwtape Letters than Paradise Lost — and it reinforces Shadows‘ B-movie vibe.
Despite celebrated developer Shinji Mikami’s presence, Shadows‘ core gameplay is traditional to the point of fossilization. You wield Johnson in three double-entendre gun forms (pistol, shotgun, machine gun) against a host of zombie-like demons distinguished largely by the degree of armor they wear. Garcia can also use Johnson in torch mode to beat his foes to death. Bosses, minibosses, and puzzles alike are usually solved by shoot-the-glowing-spot, making your ability to move and shoot rather pointless. Sadly, the bosses in particular seem to be phoning it in — few are memorable.
The primary gameplay quirk Shadows has is, well, shadows. Now and again, nasty neon-tinted Darkness will engulf regions of Hell, sheathing your foes in a protective shield, exposing certain mechanisms, and burning away health. The Darkness can be banished by shooting a goat head (of course) with a Light Shot, but it’s also necessary to complete most of the game’s puzzles, some of which are quite devious. Things can change quickly in Shadows, so it’s best to keep on your toes.
Now and again, Suda51 manages to wrest control of the gameplay from Mikami. As a general rule, these non sequiturs are bizarre— like a turret sequence where you power Johnson up into the “Big Boner” by calling a demon sex line, an extra-dimensional passage that uses a scantily-clad, moaning Paula as a bridge, or a side-scrolling sequence that appears without explanation and turns the world into a paper cutout. Aside from a break from shoot-the-glowing-weak-spot, these interludes add little. Fortunately or unfortunately, most are concentrated in a single chapter.
Since its mechanics are serviceable, and its narrative (hero rescues girlfriend from villain) practically primeval, Shadows dresses these up with shameless audacity. A Hell full of heavy drinkers and strip clubs gets a chuckle, the neverending dick jokes eventually wear down most players’ resistance, and the male power fantasy is ludicrous without being offensive. Boss backstories are related through spiteful little fairy-tale vignettes, and baby-faced doors snack on brains, eyeballs, and strawberries as keys. It’s all about as classy as a traveling carnival.
There’s no shortage of uncomfortable and crude elements in Shadows, particularly the constant violence against women in the form of poor Paula’s regular and horrific demises. But thankfully and to the game’s credit, it never plays these for comedy — unlike Duke Nukem Forever, whose attitude toward women can best be summed up as “aww, she thinks she’s people,” the villain is the loathsome misogynistic creep who collects and abuses women like toys, compared to Garcia’s affectionate reminiscences about his somewhat…troubled lover. (Who, unfortunately, does little other than scream for help and die repeatedly over the course of the game. This game is not gonna pass the Bechdel test.)
If you’re wondering why I haven’t mentioned Akira Yamaoka’s soundtrack yet, it’s largely because, between all the shrieks and gunshots, it’s kind of hard to make it out. It’d take a bigger fan than I to rate how good his performance is here.
A highlight of the game is its two protagonists. Garcia is a surprisingly endearing lead, combining a mixture of crude machismo, almost puppydog affection, scrappy arrogance, and comedic folly. He and Johnson have excellent chemistry — Johnson’s cowardice contrasts Garcia’s brashness, and his intellectual pretentions (as symbolized by a posh accent) balance out Garcia’s illiteracy. There are precious few horrors these two can’t defang with a good wisecrack, and our dynamic duo really deserve to star in a more polished title.
All in all, your tolerance for Shadows of the Damned is largely going to depend on your affinity for the sorts of machismo the game celebrates. If the notion of a game where a good sixty to eighty percent of the dialogue is some sort of double entendre doesn’t appeal, steer clear. It’s not going to offer you anything else.
But if you’re looking for a shameless, irreverent game that doesn’t once take itself too seriously, Shadows may well be your cup of tequila.