I didn’t realise how much 90s horror lives on in my muscle memory until I sat down with Crow Country. My head is still full of things I forgot to forget as games grew and evolved and expanded beyond the blocky figures and pixelated gore I grew up with. Stuff like the sound of the cursor flicking over the items in the inventory, or knowing I can reload from the menu, or knowing, with cast iron certainty, that I’ll find more handgun ammo than shotgun shells around here, which in turn will be more plentiful than the magnum ammo. Perhaps that’s why Crow Country feels so much like coming home.
Well. You know. If I stomped around home melting deformed denizens with my flamethrower, anyway.
I’ll be honest, though; these kinds of retro homages? I’m kinda done. And by kinda, I mean totally, and by done, I mean I’ve absolutely had my fill of them. Maybe they’re a little more impactful to those who missed these kinds of experiences the first time around, but I’m old enough that I didn’t, which is possibly why I’m more surprised than anyone that after reluctantly picking up Crow Country, I found it astonishingly difficult to put it down again.
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