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 is a marvel of design, dripping with atmosphere
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.
Combat in Crimson Butterfly Remake isn’t rare, per se, but it’s also not frequent. You’ll spend much of your time exploring the village, navigating houses, snapping photos of lingering spirits and twin dolls scattered throughout the village, and solving puzzles. But every time you open a door or reach for an item, you are vulnerable. You may pull your hand away or slam a door shut in time, but they will still be there, and it won’t ease how you feel the next time. Often, those spirits are specters, condemned to retrace the paths they walked in life, only visible long enough to snap a picture if you’re quick and ready. (Change film, and you might miss them.) But sometimes, they are hostile. In the village, you can often avoid ghosts by crouching, hiding, or simply running away, which is useful against groups or when you’re not looking for a fight. But when you’re locked in a house and the doors are sealed shut, you’ll have to defend yourself with the Camera Obscura.
Your camera can exorcise ghosts. The better the picture, the more damage the shot will do. A shot that is in focus and captures a spirit’s face will be far more effective than one that captures its back. But the most effective shots are Fatal Frames, which require you to wait until a spirit attacks and the light atop the Camera Obscure flashes red. Time it right, and you’ll stagger the wraith, deal heavy damage, and replenish Mio’s Willpower, a new addition that allows her to use Special Shots (some stun, some slow, and so on) and is lost when Mio runs or a ghost strikes her. Lose all of it and Mio will be knocked to the ground and vulnerable. If a ghost attacks you while you’re down, you’ll have to use the camera to get it off. Miss your shot, and you’ll take a large amount of damage. I’m mixed on Willpower as a concept – I didn’t use Special Shots often, instead saving Willpower for when I needed to sprint – but I did appreciate it as an additional obstacle to navigate during combat.
Then there are Shutter Chances, which occur when a wraith’s health is depleted past a certain point. Snap a picture during one, and a ghost will be left defenseless for a single, high damage shot. Time a Fatal Frame with a Shutter Chance, and you’ll enter Fatal Time, allowing you to take multiple shots at once. Better pictures also reward you with points that can be spent on items and charms at save points, so there’s an additional reason to aim well.
When it clicks, Crimson Butterfly’s combat is compelling.
It’s a lot to remember, but when it clicks, Crimson Butterfly’s combat is compelling. Often, you’ll only fight one wraith at a time, but even that is challenging. Success is a matter of sidestepping attacks, managing your health and Willpower, and waiting for a ghost to attack so Mio can capture that elusive Fatal Frame. Choosing the right film matters, too. Will you stick with the infinite but weak and slow-to-reload Type-07 or upgrade to the slightly stronger but still slow and limited Type-14? The Type-61 is powerful, but reloading film still takes a while and you can’t carry much of it, while the rarer Type-90 is fast, powerful, and can be carried in bulk. And then there is the incredibly slow, but powerful, Type-00, which deals massive damage even to the most frightening wraiths. There just isn’t much of it. Crimson Butterfly Remake’s combat is about timing and choice, and unlike most horror games, requires you to leave yourself open and literally face your fears to succeed. You are always vulnerable; Mio always has reason to be afraid.
Each ghost presents its own challenges. You might be tempted to use Type-07 film for more standard spirits, but others will quickly push you into loading more precious film into your camera, and each time you miss a shot with a more valuable film, it hurts. You will never forget the first time you encounter the woman in the box, nor the first time you’re locked in a room fighting two ghosts at once. My favorite encounter was against a drowned woman on a bridge who moved through the air like she was floating in water, and who seemed to transport Mio underwater as the fight progressed. Even though you’ll fight most ghosts multiple times, they never get old. Even protecting Mayu from ghosts, something you’ll have to do off and on as the sisters are separated and reunited over the course of the story, is less frustrating and simply an additional challenge.
It’s here that I must talk about Crimson Butterfly Remake’s status as a remake. In many ways, it is an unqualified success. It is visually stunning while capturing and thoughtfully updating the character designs, environments, art, and sound of the 2003 original, and there are images here that will stay with me forever. The change from fixed camera angles to the over-the-shoulder view popularized by Resident Evil 4 is admittedly mixed; it dilutes some of the horror and unease, but it means Crimson Butterfly plays better and is more responsive than any other Fatal Frame. The additions Team Ninja made to the village and the new side stories are wonderful. Even smaller choices, like the ability to hold Mayu’s hand and guide her through the village, which restores both Willpower and both sisters’ health at the expense of slower movement, is a thoughtful change that emphasizes their bond through gameplay. I also appreciate that Crimson Butterfly Remake doesn’t force you to fight everything. Sometimes, sneaking past or running away is the best (or only) option.
What bothers me are the additions to the Camera Obscura. As in the original, you can still equip charms to boost your damage, reduce the health or Willpower you lose when a wraith hits you, and so on. That’s fine. Finding prayer beads in the village enables you to increase how quickly the camera focuses, to focus it or zoom in and out manually, and so on, which were not options before or were unlocked after completing the original game. These are good changes. I largely relied on the automatic focus so I could concentrate on keeping wraiths in frame as I moved around, but made liberal use of the zoom feature.
Where Crimson Butterfly Remake fails is in the addition of filters that you can switch between, each of which comes with its own Special Shot ability, many of which recall the original’s various lenses. The Standard filter is an all-arounder that recovers more willpower with each snap and a Special Shot that can stun; the Paraceptual Filter allows you to see ghosts through walls, has additional range, and it’s Special Shot blinds; the Exposure filter is great for dealing with aggravated wraiths, and the Radiant filter is short ranged but deals absolutely massive damage. Each has additional uses outside of combat: the Paraceptual filter allows you to track traces of spirits, the Exposure filter can reveal hidden areas and ghosts, and the Radiant filter can open doors and objects sealed by blood. In combat, however, they become one note.
It is visually stunning while capturing and thoughtfully updating the original.
Part of this is because of the aggravated wraiths. Each time you snap a picture of a wraith, you risk aggravating it. Basically, they turn red, recover health, take much less damage, attack more frequently, and hit harder. Initially, this is incredibly frustrating, especially if you’ve been using higher quality film or if you’re fighting multiple ghosts at once in a small room. The Exposure filter is great for dealing with aggravated wraiths, though you only get it after you’ve started seeing wraiths get real mad, and you’ll have to spend high quality film to return them to normal via a Shutter Chance (which also automatically triggers Fatal Time). The issue isn’t that there isn’t an answer, it’s that there’s only one answer, at least for a while: Exposure filter and good film. It becomes a grating game of Simon Says, and I often used better film against weaker ghosts to try to end their afterlife before they became aggravated, which works great until it doesn't.
This problem carries over to the other filters, with options like the Paraceptual filter becoming my go-to for all far away ghosts. But the Radiant filter is what really breaks Crimson Butterfly Remake, especially if you upgrade the charms that boost it. Yes, the shorter range means it’s harder to hit things, but if you upgrade it, you’ll do so much damage (especially if you’re using anything other than Type-07 film) that it trivializes everything, even aggravated wraiths and boss fights. By the end, I wasn’t locked in rooms with the ghosts of Minakami Village: They were locked in rooms with me. Well, me, my fully upgraded Radiant filter, and my fully upgraded Radiant filter charm. Combine that with any decent film and they had no chance.
Yes, blasting through ghosts that I previously feared was a thrill, even if I wasn’t taking Pulitzer-worthy shots to do it (though I was still rewarded for quality), and I was never truly unafraid because Mio was still vulnerable. But as I traipsed around the village gathering prayer beads, upgrading my camera, photographing twin dolls, and checking off side stories, I realized how “gamey” some of these new additions were. I was supposed to be figuring out how to escape a haunted village, and while I could argue that completing the side stories gave me a better understanding of what happened here, what I was hoping to accomplish, and what I was up against, the rest felt… artificial. Pick up this film so I always have enough. Photograph those dolls because they're there and doing so unlocks more things at the save point. Grab that prayer bead to get a step closer to another upgrade. Pieces of candy scattered along the ground, and I acquired them because this is a video game and that’s what you do, whether they are out of place or not. Does the removal of the fixed camera angles really help, or does it just ease a little friction? Is it a good design choice, or simply the modern one that will make me more comfortable? Removing film grain makes an image clearer, but it removes detail, too.
Once you start seeing these things, you can’t stop. Case in point: the filters. An inventor making a camera that exorcises ghosts is cool and makes sense in the context of Crimson Butterfly’s story. Filters that do more damage to ghosts, or let you see through walls, or open doors sealed by bloody handprints, on the other hand, only exist to solve gameplay problems. They feel less appropriate for Crimson Butterfly’s world and undermine its otherwise very effective horrors. I went from saying things like “man, I hope there’s not a ghost in that well” to “Get out here, lady. I dare you. I double-dog dare you. I have a Radiant filter and enough Type-90 film to make you wish you’d stayed down there.”
That’s fun as a video game power fantasy, as a way to make my dopamine-seeking lizard brain go brrrr. It’s stuff that would make a lot of sense in Resident Evil, but it goes against what Fatal Frame is. The strength of Crimson Butterfly is that Mio and Mayu are ordinary girls thrust into a terrifying, supernatural situation. As powerful as the Camera Obscura is, Mio is always vulnerable while using it. She always has to look the things that haunt her in the eye, to open herself to harm and not blink. It makes sense that she is afraid when she enters the Kurosawa House and her flashlight fails, or for her to hide from large numbers of ghosts, and Crimson Butterfly is most effective when you share her fear.
Some of the new stuff would make sense in Resident Evil, but goes against what Fatal Frame is.
Mio’s not a grizzled combat veteran or a superhero masquerading as a civilian the way most video game characters are. She’s a young woman trapped in a haunted village; she’s trying to survive and protect her sister, and she’s scared out of her mind. Her weapon is a camera, not a gun. She cannot physically overpower what threatens her. These are things she can barely comprehend, much less fight. But she continues in spite of that. She keeps raising that camera, facing her fears, and that’s what makes her brave. In creating a more seamless version of Crimson Butterfly that offers plentiful combat options, and allows you to be more powerful as a result, Team Ninja has unintentionally diluted it thematically.
It’s one of my only significant complaints about a remake that otherwise both respects and enhances the art it’s attempting to recreate, a smudge on an otherwise immaculately restored photograph, and something that I have been grappling with the impact of as I’ve thought about this review. I don’t think that this disharmony between thematic intent and modern convenience ruins Crimson Butterfly Remake, or even deeply damages it, and I doubt most people will even care. But it does make Crimson Butterfly feel more like an action game that you can optimize much of the horror out of if you wish to, and I think that does diminish it somewhat as a result.
