Since the earliest cave paintings, human beings have used art to recreate the world around us. But while the painter’s limit is imagination, the photographer can only capture what actually exists. They can use their tools to increase exposure, change framing, or apply filters, but they cannot create something entirely new; only preserve a moment in time. It’s telling that Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly is getting its moment now. A game about twin sisters haunted by the past with a camera as their only salvation, Crimson Butterfly Remake is similarly bound to its predecessor while also being charged with modernizing it. In many ways, it succeeds. I cannot deny that I enjoyed revisiting Minakami Village, but I also fear that constantly bending a knee to the modern and adding more complex mechanics has added an artificiality that is at odds with the captivating story it tells. By the time I reached the end of my 20-hour journey, I was deeply satisfied with and impressed by this remake, as well as incredibly conflicted about that feeling.
Before I continue, let me say this: I consider the original Crimson Butterfly – not Silent Hill 2, not Eternal Darkness, not pick-your-Resident-Evil, not any modern horror game – to be both the greatest and most terrifying horror game ever made. But any artist, no matter how skilled, risks tarnishing a great work by revisiting it. This is especially true in video games, where remakes seek to supplant and replace the original, trading increased visual fidelity and “modern” (read: Better. Always better. No one has ever used this term when speaking about a game and meant “worse”) design tropes for a piece of the original’s soul. We’ve seen this story countless times, from a Mass Effect remaster that dilutes the impact of Sovereign’s arrival on Eden Prime to a remake of Demon’s Souls that is visually remarkable but butchers the atmosphere of the original. I would like to tell you that Crimson Butterfly Remake does not fall prey to these traps, that it skirts them effortlessly. But I can’t – though that doesn’t mean what’s here isn’t an admirable attempt.
Crimson Butterfly Remake follows the same setup as the original. Twin sisters Mio and Mayu are visiting a stream where they used to play as children because the entire area will soon be flooded by the construction of a dam. As they reminisce, Mayu catches sight of a crimson butterfly that draws her deeper into the forest. Mio pursues, quickly gets lost, and the two eventually reunite on a hill overlooking a lost village said to have disappeared during a festival. The path they took is gone. There is no way back. With no other options, they descend into a village where the ghosts of the past still linger. Mio and Mayu’s only defense is a strange camera – the Camera Obscura – that seems to be able to exorcise them. Their goal is simple: escape. But that will mean learning Minakami Village’s secrets, and why they were called here to begin with.
I don’t want to say more because Crimson Butterfly’s story is remarkable, and developer Team Ninja has done an excellent job of expanding it. As you venture deeper into the village, you learn about the dark nature of the festival and the unique role twins, often twin girls, played in it. Crimson Butterfly is, to its credit, a quiet game. Cutscenes are fairly rare and Mio does not incessantly chatter about what’s happening to her or about the items she picks up. Instead, you’ll learn about the story through diaries, watching ghosts follow the paths they traveled in life, and by listening to their voices, preserved in the stones their spirits left behind. You’ll learn about the people who lived here, what happened during that festival, and the fates that befell those who, like Mio and Mayu, were called to Minakami Village. Most of the expansion comes in the form of new locations and side stories that trace the paths of supporting characters, and it’s all integrated seamlessly. If I didn’t know these things weren’t in the original, I would not have guessed, and they add a great deal to Crimson Butterfly’s story.
Minakami Village itself is a marvel of design, dripping with atmosphere. It’s a small place with few roads and fewer houses. But it’s dense, and it changes. You’ll revisit these roads, these houses, and each time, the experience will be different. When I first entered Osaka House, I was afraid and wary; later, it was like seeing an old friend. I became intimately familiar with those rooms, but I could never let my guard down while walking them. Kurosawa House, on the other hand, was terrifying no matter how many times I walked its sprawling halls. Whenever I passed through its doors, I felt myself tense up.
What I admire most about Crimson Butterfly Remake is how little it holds your hand. While there are objective markers to guide you around the village between story beats and crimson butterflies sometimes light the way forward, once you enter a house, all bets are off. If you need to go to a room with an altar, for instance, it is up to you to find that room. If you’re following a specter, you must use the camera to trace their path. If you are completing a side story, it is up to you to read the diary left behind and figure out where to go next. Crimson Butterfly Remake will give you the clues you need, but you’ll still have to make the journey yourself.
The Fatal Frame series is terrifying, but its horror is subtle – less an exercise in jump scares, and more one in unrelenting tension. When you pick up an item, Mio will crouch and extend her hand slowly. Oftentimes, nothing will happen. But sometimes, a ghost will appear and grab you. Each time she slides open a door, an angry spirit might be on the other side. Walk down a road, and you might stumble across a ghost or run into a roving patrol searching for twins who escaped on the night of the ritual. Sometimes, the spirits will be there, visible. Sometimes, they will simply appear.
