Mario collects mushrooms. Donkey Kong collects bananas. The naked, blood-lusting loner of Butcher’s Creek collects snuff films.
More than likely, you already know whether you’re the sort of person who will play the latest gorefest from Dusk creator David Szymanski — or the sort of person who wonders how this shit is legal. I’ll share the grimy details for the few people still balancing on the entrails-covered fence.
Butcher’s Creek takes place in a pseudo-apocalyptic future in which nihilism and cruelty have won, any “heroes” have long died, and the people who remain eke out pleasure from others’ pain. The protagonist has a taste for recordings of killings, which is why they’re willing to make the poor decision to enter a terrifying, decrepit basement littered with soiled mattresses, busted light bulbs, and plaid-wearing Appalachian murder cultists.
What follows is a knowingly nasty, thoughtfully crafted mashup of M-rated (or unrated) games like Manhunt, Kane & Lynch, and the never-officially-released Thrill Kill. This sticky subcategory inspired congressional hearings in the 1990s and fueled court cases in the 2010s. In its 2011 ruling in Brown v. Entertainment Merchants Association, the U.S. Supreme Court afforded video games the same First Amendment protections as other art forms. And yet, with this new freedom, the expanded video game market found itself self-censoring for a different reason: to appeal to the broadest possible audience.
Butcher’s Creek’s grotesqueries could be mistaken for modern edgelord humor meant to enrage strangers on social media. But Szymanski has created something intentionally anachronistic as a piece of art, a throwback to when games existed as much to entertain as to provoke the ire of institutions, whether they be the government, retailers, or arts publications.
Shortly after the game’s protagonist enters this moldy, musky underworld, a group of torturers captures the man, strips him naked, and prepares him to be the latest victim in the snuff films he had previously craved. Of course, the story can’t end there. The antihero (a word that feels like an understatement) breaks free and uses wrenches, planks of wood, and box cutters to seek revenge on his captors. To be clear, no lesson has been learned. The snuff films, on VHS tapes, serve as a currency for saving the game and unlocking new areas. Taking Polaroids of murder scenes restores health. The gap between the main character and the band of sickos is roughly as thick as a single sheet of Bible paper.
If you enjoyed the underrated Xbox 360 first-person melee game Condemned: Criminal Origins and have the constitution for the worst of human nature, yeah. Art can be many things, not all of them comfortable. What I admire about Szymanski’s games, which are short and appear with astonishing frequency, is that they are art. Nearly 15 years ago, video game developers gained protections that, for decades, had felt unattainable. Today, Szymanski isn’t simply taking advantage of those protections to create something shamelessly sadistic and hateful (of which there’s plenty to be found on Steam), but to engage with gaming history, the current cultural mood, and the assumptions we make about the very building blocks of design. Consider the mushroom, the banana, and the snuff tape. See how a power-up can be perverted. Contemplate what power for the sake of pleasure encourages.
And then bash a cultist with a hammer.
Butcher’s Creek was released Jan. 23 on Windows PC. The game was played on PC using a digital copy purchased by the author. Vox Media has affiliate partnerships. These do not influence editorial content, though Vox Media may earn commissions for products purchased via affiliate links. You can find additional information about Polygon’s ethics policy here.
