It's true—Ryukishi07, the acclaimed creator of Higurashi When They Cry and Umineko When They Cry, has made a striking—and delightfully bizarre—metaphor for his approach to Silent Hill f: "like salad dressing."

At Anime Expo 2025 in Los Angeles, during a highly anticipated panel featuring producer Motoi Okamoto and composer Akira Yamaoka, Ryukishi07 opened up about how he’s crafting the narrative of Silent Hill f—a new entry in the long-dormant horror franchise that last saw a mainline release in 2012’s Silent Hill: Downpour.

Rather than diving straight into plot mechanics or lore, Ryukishi07 described his central design philosophy: the fusion of supernatural and psychological horror. He explained that players will initially experience these two elements as indistinguishable—like oil and vinegar before being shaken together. That initial blur is intentional: "You won’t know what's real, what's imagined, what's a monster, what's a memory."

But as the story unfolds—layer by layer, clue by clue—the two begin to separate.

“Eventually,” he said with a calm smile, “the game will be like a salad dressing. The oil and vinegar will settle. You’ll see them clearly, but they were meant to be mixed first.”

It's a beautifully poetic, yet refreshingly absurd, way to describe a narrative strategy that’s become a hallmark of both Higurashi and the Silent Hill series: the slow unraveling of truth through psychological disorientation.

And it works.

The 1960s-set Silent Hill f follows Hinako Shimizu, a teenage girl caught in a web of social expectations, familial trauma, and hidden town secrets in the eerie, fog-draped Ebisugaoka. The game’s first Japanese-language reveal trailer—now infamous for its 18+ rating, the first in the series’ history—presents a dreamlike, oppressive atmosphere where beauty and dread coexist in equal measure. Think: cherry blossoms falling over a cracked church, a schoolgirl’s laughter echoing through a collapsing hallway.

What makes Silent Hill f especially bold is Konami’s official confirmation that it’s not a sequel, not a reboot, not a remake. It’s a standalone story, designed from the ground up to be accessible to newcomers. As Ryukishi put it: "You don’t need to know Silent Hill to feel it."

That said, the heart of the game still beats in the same places as its predecessors—in the quiet moments, in the silence between screams, in the way a photograph might age too fast, or how a childhood friend’s face changes when you look away.

Okamoto emphasized that the game’s terror isn’t just in jump scares or grotesque monsters (though those are plentiful). The real horror lies in juxtaposition: a lullaby sung in a cathedral of rust, a child’s drawing that slowly rewrites itself, a town where the sky is always just past sunset.

Yamaoka, the legendary composer behind the series’ iconic soundscapes, hinted that the score will be "a scream wrapped in a lullaby"—a theme that echoes through the game’s ambient textures, fragmented melodies, and moments of deafening stillness.

And yes—Ryukishi07 still believes in mystery. He promises players will gather facts, piece together clues, and still walk away asking: “Was it real? Or was it her?” That ambiguity isn’t a flaw. It’s the point.

🔍 Key Takeaways from Silent Hill f:

• Release Date: September 25, 2025
• Platforms: PC, PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S
• Setting: 1960s Japan, in the isolated town of Ebisugaoka
• Protagonist: Hinako Shimizu, a teen grappling with identity, family, and societal pressure
• Rating: 18+ in Japan — the first Silent Hill game to receive it
• Narrative Style: Psychological horror blended with supernatural elements, "like salad dressing"
• Not a Sequel: Fully standalone, designed for newcomers and veterans alike
• Themes: Love, grief, memory, identity, and the weight of silence
• Design Motto: "Beauty and terror are not opposites—they’re siblings."

So yes, the salad dressing metaphor might sound odd at first—like a novelist describing trauma as a vinaigrette—but it’s deeply intentional.

Just like in Higurashi, where truth is hidden in repetition and memory, or in Silent Hill, where the town itself reflects your guilt, Silent Hill f wants you to feel the blur—before it clears.

And when it does? You’ll know you were never just playing a game.

You were remembering one.