There's a moment that thrilled me when playing through Silent Hill 2, perhaps not sending a chill up my spine or causing me to exclaim in shock, but one that really got the juices flowing, got me thinking "wow, I did not expect that."
In Silent Hill 2 (no idea if this is true in the other games,) when you first begin, walking down a path from the rest stop where the game opens (and where we're introduced to James staring at himself in the mirror in a profoundly dingy public bathroom) we pass by an old well along a forest path. The forest seems ominous and spooky because it's a horror game, but if we were to look at Silent Hill as just an ordinary New England town, it's really not that bad: just a little nature path for people to walk along that goes by the lake. I grew up in New England - a suburb of Boston rather than a resort town in Maine, but I'm familiar with the vibes - and when I go visit home, my dad and I often take walks by a lake about half a mile from his house that is, admittedly, in a more densely residential part of town, but still not too dissimilar from Toluca Lake (I don't know if the developers realized that Toluca Lake is actually a neighborhood in Los Angeles, where I live now). There are nature trails that go through a little forested park/nature preserve in the middle of town (attached to a number of playgrounds where I used to play soccer and baseball) that very much match this little path.
Anyway, as you pass this well, you notice an ominous red glow emanating from it. It's truly the first genuinely unusual, off-putting thing you see in the game. Naturally, I went to investigate (as the developers were sure I would,) and discovered that the glowing red square in the well was, in fact, our first save point.
These red squares are the game's save points, and you'll encounter dozens if not a hundred of them over the course of the game. When you engage with them, you see a reflection of James staring with a kind of blank expression behind the UI for selecting which file to save your progress in.
That's fine, a bit weird, but sure.
Far later, after we finish our first "dungeon" in the Woodside and then Blue Creek apartments (apparently in the original game, there was just one apartment building and we don't actually go to the Otherworld until the hospital) and meet Maria, who leads us to the strip club, Heaven's Night, we pass through a motel, and the motel's save point is, unlike most of them (which are typically just on a wall somewhere) sitting on the trunk of a car parked in the lot there.
If we save the game there (and I was pretty diligent about saving my progress whenever possible,) Maria comments on it - asking why James has suddenly gone dead-eyed, staring blankly, as if in a fugue state.
I never actually ran into this is a problem, but apparently these save points don't actually pause the game. They, and your map, don't prevent monsters from attacking you. But given the start-stop action of a survival horror game, where fights are moments of sheer panic followed by a lot of stillness and quiet, I was never in a position to be attacked while saving - I'd be sure to clear any nearby monsters, and in nearly all cases, as I recall, save points tended to be in rooms or areas where you wouldn't be bothered by any monsters anyway.
Now, sure, Maria's commentary on this might have just been something a bit cheeky from the developers, a scripted moment. And maybe there's not that much of a need to read into them.
But what the hell are those red squares?
From all my lore-digging about the game online, comparing it with its 2001 original version, I don't think I've seen anything that actually explores what the red squares genuinely are. Red is a color we associate with Pyramid Head - he's first introduced to us surrounded by a red glow of light (which might fool us into thinking that there's a save point nearby) and of course, his rusted helmet and butcher's apron stained with blood have a natural association with that color. There's also the subtle nods to esoteric alchemy, with its duality of red and white (constant readers will know that Stephen King's Dark Tower series was a huge influence on me, and I remember as a teenager wondering why his order-versus-chaos forces were described as the White and the Red, but perhaps he was thinking of the same things). The Red King and the White Queen combine to form the Rebis, the completed ideal form of humanity, so Red being associated with masculinity would certainly fit with its association with Pyramid Head. Perhaps the squares are reflections of James?
At the end of the game (if memory serves, right before the dual-pyramid head fight,) you arrive at an array of nine of these save points - any of them will work to save your game. The most direct reading of why there are these nine is to just emphasize that you really should save because you're going into two pretty serious boss fights.
I didn't notice this when playing, but apparently when you save your game here, James actually doesn't look directly into the "camera," averting his gaze. The general interpretation here is that he can't actually bear to look at himself now that he knows what he did.
This array of nine is actually foreshadowed, though, far, far earlier in the game. In Woodside Apartments, the game's first "dungeon," (or half-dungeon if we consider Woodside and Blue Creek to be collectively a single dungeon) you'll find yourself trapped in a room where all the walls, ceilings, and floors (and windows) are painted black (weirdly reminding me of a black box theater) and there's a safe in the middle of the room, along with strange writing on all the surfaces in white paint. The puzzle here requires you to find the painted messages that only appear in the light of your flashlight (which you got fairly recently) to get the combination to the safe. But among the cryptic writing and symbols, on the door whose key is kept in the safe is an array of nine white squares. These look like they could be the outlines of window panels in the door, of course, but I do find it odd, especially because, if memory serves, the actual structure of the door doesn't have those nine panels.
On a certain level, of course, a game of this sort needs save points. While the game does auto-save, even doing so mid-boss fight (my fight against the final boss saw me dying I think at least once on each phase, maybe not the second one, and I'm honestly fairly grateful I didn't have to start over from the start every time,) the save points give you a little flexibility. Did you totally screw up some room with a few monsters in it and use up all your ammo and healing items? Well, you can always revert to an earlier save and try it again and do better. I didn't actually do this (maybe like once).
Still, it does make me really wonder about what, if anything, the game's creators were trying to say with these save points.
I know at least in early Resident Evil games, you saved at typewriters, with a kind of in-universe justification of being that saving was, effectively, writing the record of what you had done since your previous save as a journal - and in a weird way, almost saying that anything that you didn't save wasn't truly part of the story. Chris, Jill, Leon, Claire, etc., don't canonically get eaten by zombies no matter how many times you see it happen to you when you die in the game.
Plenty of games don't really bother with an in-universe justification for saving the game - the game as a narrative is a work of artifice, and just as James doesn't have a little set of numbers floating next to him whenever he downs a "Health Drink" or injects himself with a Syringe, we're allowed to just chalk it up to a willing suspension of disbelief.
And yet...
There is something so mysterious and intriguing about these weird little red squares. Why are some of them neatly aligned on vertical surfaces, but sometimes they're laid out haphazardly on a horizontal surface, as if they were a piece of paper tossed there? Why does Maria notice that James has gone nigh-catatonic when staring into the red square at the motel? Maria sees all the monsters that James sees, unlike the other characters (for reasons that are quite clear,) but does she not see these squares? She doesn't comment on them or ask what they are, but she does notice the effect they have on James.
Given his aversion to looking directly at them at the end of the game, are we to interpret these as mirrors? That seems the most likely - that saving is something like "self reflection," and in his delusional state through most of the game, James believes he has no difficulties looking at himself because he's a good guy, right? But when his dark truth, the memory that he's repressed, is exposed, now the shame of his own appearance is too much for him.
Alternatively, if we wanted to get even more meta: What if it's not a mirror, but a window? What if it's a window into that true otherworld - the one in which a stranger is holding a video game controller and guiding him through this ordeal. We've taken him on, helped him survive this journey, because we reasonably believed that he was a hero. But now, just as he does, we now know the dark thing that he did. Is it himself he cannot bear to look in the eye, or is it us?
The red squares are likely to remain a mystery. If they were treated more simply, we might be able to dismiss them as a video game contrivance, not truly part of the world itself. And I think the inconsistency of them - that the vast majority of them are perfectly aligned, their edges parallel to the walls and floors, while a small few are so haphazard - is just one of many details in the game that are just off-putting enough to register our human pattern-recognition alarms. We get a weird, uneasy feeling when things that are normally consistent are not so, and psychological horror in particular really thrives in this subtle undercurrent of discomfort. Perhaps that's all there is to it - just something weirdly off.
Or perhaps it's a little crack in the surface of the world that hints at the eldritch depths beyond.