Hollowbody is a triumph of British horror, but blurs the line between homage and imitation

Hollowbody’s familiar magic isn’t found in supernatural places. It’s found in the rubble of the ordinary.

Although the film is ostensibly set in a future of flying cars and holographic identities, the world of Hollowbody is one that most of us would recognise – and I’m not just talking about the damp, dark British climate. I could walk out of my house right now and take you to half a dozen housing developments in my immediate neighbourhood that boast the same identical 1960s semi-trailers seen in Hollowbody. The same building you’re exploring here looms over the skylines of every city in the country.

Is this why Hollowbody unsettles me more than I care to admit? Is this why rummaging through abandoned apartments and walking empty streets leaves me so nervous? I’ve always had a penchant for horror as opposed to monotony. Put me in an HR Giger-inspired world, and I’m disgusted, sure, but it’s an environment so, uh, alien to me that it’s hard to feel any real fear because I just can’t imagine a day be there.

Let me into a haunted townhouse, for example? Make me search a kitchen where the plates from last night’s meal are still piled in the sink, or force me to search someone’s bedroom where a body is melting into the sheets and the book he was reading is exactly where it was left, rotting on the bedside table? That sort of thing terrifie Me.

The Britishness of Hollowbody’s scenes further reinforces this impression. It’s a world bruised and broken by anguish and agony, tiny vignettes that give a voyeuristic glimpse into people’s final moments. How People talk and the accents they have shouldn’t make a difference. I know that. And yet, hearing two sisters discuss their suicide pact in a regional accent so, so close to where I’m sitting here typing these words, it absolutely is do make a difference.

This makes things much worse.

The deeper you explore, the darker it gets. Digging through the detritus of someone else’s life is sad enough, but sometimes you stumble upon their remains. Some people are alone. Others lie side by side. Some died slowly and painfully. Others came to their deaths quickly. Others gathered together and sought refuge in church, but death came for them anyway. They still sit in the pews where they died, their faces hidden by dirty sheets.

Of course, creating a world like this is nothing new in gaming. Games of all sizes and scopes have done it before. And that brings us to Hollowbody’s main problem. Take away that more unique layer of Britishness and you’re left with a game that does a lot of things that have been done many times before. Its fixed camera angles, dark soundtrack, and polygonal graphics are a perfect dead ringer for the survival horror games we grew up with, Silent Hill in particular.

Because without Silent Hill, I don’t think we would ever have Hollowbody.

In its defense, Hollowbody doesn’t attempt to emulate Silent Hill 2’s largely singular story in any way, and we can only be grateful for that. It does, however, adopt many of the series’ hallmarks and draws on some now-established genre tropes. Fans will find plenty of familiar elements here – from Hollowbody’s similar soundtrack, to the use of a flashlight and its inventory screen – to the sounds you make as you move among your items.

Some parts of the story are vaguely reminiscent of those that came before it, others seem directly inspired. One particularly surprising segment seems to have been taken directly from the (unfortunately much maligned) Silent Hill 4 movie. It made me wonder where the line is between inspiration and imitation.

It may not be original, but I’m very, very glad Hollowbody exists. While it was inspired by notable horror games that came before it, Headware has created something that, despite its familiarity, still stands on its own. It’s a delightfully atmospheric, slow-burning horror game that does enough to carve out its own story and fit in among other entries in the genre that it’s clearly taken inspiration from.