Even without the cloying darkness and lumbering monsters, you get the impression Crow Country would be a pretty awful day out, what with its cramped thoroughfares and tatty décor, its frazzled animatronics and the kind of browning water features you can practically smell through the screen. It’s certainly no Disneyland that’s for sure, but there’s no arguing this delightfully grim Atlanta theme park is a perfect horror setting.
The year is 1990, and you – Agent Mara Forest – are a young (conspicuously young, in fact) law enforcement officer sent to the titular tourist attraction to investigate the disappearance of its owner, one Edward Crow. Not that any of this pre-amble especially matters; the star here is that grotty setting, which makes this survival horror throwback feel refreshingly distinct, even as it leans firmly into nostalgia.
The most obvious affectation here comes with those deliciously chunky visuals; all awkwardly bulbous polygons and low-res filters intended to capture the spirit of yesteryear rather than replicate it fastidiously. It works, though, giving the whole thing the vibe of a long-lost survival horror classic, tumbled straight out of a wormhole for brand-new eyes. And vibes, really, is what Crow Country is all about. This certainly isn’t a scary game, but it still manages to elicit some deliciously spooky tension all the same, as its pudgy meat-creatures shamble awkwardly around corners and spindly legged oddities lurch menacingly into view.
Structurally, too, Crow Country borrows heavily from the earliest iterations of Resident Evil and its ilk. This is a world of locked doors and improbably elaborate security mechanisms, of save rooms and liberally scattered notes, where progress is one of puzzle-solving, backtracking, and the occasional jolts of combat. Combat, frankly, I don’t love; rather than modern-day run-and-gunning, it’s got the staccato rhythm of old, where unholstering your weapons roots you to the spot as you aim wildly and awkwardly in search of a headshot. And if an enemy gets too close, you’re forced to holster up, leg it somewhere out of reach, and try again.
It’s fussy in a way that’s just a bit too retro for my tastes (and I say this as someone who’s been playing games since 1983), but in most other aspects, thanks to its smartly selective design, Crow Country manages to tip a hat to a bygone era without tilting into frustration. The control scheme is mercifully modern away from combat – good riddance tank controls – clues are recorded and easily referenced in safe rooms, and there’s none of that limited save nonsense, where you’re forced to agonise over your last typewriter ribbon, here. Even the likes of ammo and health restoratives are relatively abundant. And puzzles, too, seem pitched just right.
Puzzles, in fact, might just be my favourite bit of Crow Country so far. Sure, its sense of cheerily macabre menace is a hoot, but developer SFB Games (of Snipperclips fame) has crafted a series of delightful conundrums – compass-point tomb stone swivelling, date-matching clock cranking, and hidden code piano tinkling – that manage to feel inventive despite invoking familiar forms. Better yet, they’re involved enough to feel satisfying without resorting to head-spinning abstraction. Yes, I still have battle scars from Silent Hill 3‘s Hard puzzle mode.
Granted, I’m only a couple of hours in at this point, but Eurogamer contributor Vikki Blake liked Crow Country a lot when she reviewed it on PC last year, so it feels like we’re on pretty solid ground here. And of course, now that Crow Country has made its way to PlayStation Plus, it’s the perfect opportunity for even remotely curious subscribers to give it some time.
