Slayer Shock's rough simplicity makes it oddly timeless

Boom and dust
First person view of a torch-lit cave, raising a katana at a worried-looking vampire in an old-timey waistcoat. Three shin-high piles of dust lie in front of the vampire
IT SAID "NO SMOKING" YOU GODDAMN MONSTER.

A likely recurring element of this column is studying what has changed in games and (hiss, spit) the games "industry" over this 300-year-long decade. But going back to those games you meant to cover, meant to revisit, or never quite played, often prompts thoughts about the currents of other culture, too. Since Slayer Shock's budget love letter to Buffy the Vampire Slayer was released in 2016, that show's creator has been vaguely taken to account (insofar as they ever are) for being, among other things, "a dick". Buffy's gleefully silly and queer "monster hunting friends" descendant Wynonna Earp has been and gone. Twilight's sparkly misogynist nadir, already passing, is practically Old People culture even as Ann Rice vampires make a welcome comeback.

And yet, instead of an uncomfortably outmoded Game Of The Show, Slayer Shock endures, by asking a simple question: What if a vampire jumped out and went BLEAAARGH?

Looking from a slightly raised platform down on a grassy path through the woods at night, holding a wooden stake. Minion vampires slumpily wander around in the middle distance
The smart play is probably to avoid the mooks. But I'm not the Avoiderer. Well, not in the game.
🚀
You're reading Sin's column about the games of yesteryear. Not old enough to be retro, not shiny enough to be new. This is the hinterland of PC gaming. And the first of our subscriber goals!

This post is for paying subscribers only

Already have an account? Sign in.
Tagged with:
Sin's column / Slayer Shock
Sin Vega

Sin Vega

Sin Vega is a temporarily immortal being who writes about games and TV, weeps for the sorrow that resonates in all things, and assassinates people who don't flatpack their cardboard. For maddening reasons, she lives in London.