The Women of Evil Within 2 Pt. 1
A critical look at Bethesda’s hit horror game can tell us about the way gaming and horror view women in our society.
Going to preface anything I have to write about this title that I am a fan of this series. While the first was deservedly maligned for its clunky mechanics, uninspired level design, and B-movie style writing, it won me over with its unabashed earnestness and love of the genre. The Evil Within was never once meant to be a fresh look at survival horror, or a clever subversion or even a commentary, but a loving tribute, and that wormed its way into my heart, warts and all.
The general consensus across the board is that the sequel is a much better game in every way imaginable. Everything from the new semi-open world level design, to the gameplay, and even writing have improved upon the original, and actually meet the potential the first game promised in droves. It’s very much up there for one of my favorite gaming experiences this year.
One thing that also struck me as different from the first game, the larger cast included a higher number of women with acting roles in the plot than is normal for a AAA pseudo-action title. The first game did feature female characters, but only one had any acting agency. Evil Within 2 conversely has more women shaping the plot and storyline than many other videogames on the market. I thought it’d be interesting to examine the difference between this and its predecessor and how women are treated within the story.
Women As Victims (and Monsters)
In the world of the Evil Within, victimization has an unfortunate habit of transforming you into a monster that must later on be defeated by our stalwart hero, Sebastian Castellanos, or at least that’s how it seems. This is a relatively common horror trope, particularly within videogames. Someone has something terrible happen to them and the resulting trauma causes them to lash out violently and/or transform into a hideous monster that must then be destroyed. For older references of this sort of thing playing out, think about malevolent ghosts of murder victims seeking revenge on their tormentors only to lash out at everyone who comes across the area of their haunting.
The first game’s most prominent victim-monster was that of Laura, the central antagonist’s sister who was burned in a fire and trapped in a vegetative state. A version of her exists inside STEM, the virtual world created from the machine linking multiple minds together, that is twisted and deformed. The Laura-creature stalks the protagonist and must be put down repeatedly by setting her on fire. You must revisit her torment upon her in order to defeat her.
In the Evil Within 2, we have the Guardian and Obscura. Both are the hideous creations of Stefano, an artist-photographer turned serial killer.
Within the virtual world of STEM, Stefano has attained several key powers that allow him to create hideous works of macabre art by preserving the scenes of his murders in time. They float, caught perpetually with blood gushing from their wounds like flies trapped in amber. While he seems to have no preferred gender when it comes to most of his victims, the way he treats women has a particular sexual bent. Their femininity and sexuality is key to the creation.
The Guardian is the first of his monsters we meet, a multi-headed, multi-limbed hydra-woman with a massive sawblade. She shrieks and cackles as she stumbles towards you on a body barely made to be able to walk. She is feminine rage personified.
As details of Stefano’s work come clear, it is learned that these are visions of how Stefano sees women, these are images pulled from his psyche and through STEM are made real. These are his victims pulled together in their terrified vengeful last moments and forced to defend him. Even her name, the Guardian, denotes her role. She is a subjugated monster, victimized and then used as a shield while he pursues his art.
Now let’s talk about Obscura, easily the most memorable and disturbing creature in the entire game.
Visions of Stefano gleefully cutting up victims as they scream and wail in horror precede our encounter with this monster. He delights in their suffering, but not so much that it can distract from his work. He cuts out their tongue and then sews their bodies together, another amalgamation of his victims.
The Obscura, like the Guardian, is a multi-limbed monstrosity carved from multiple ballet dancers. Her hideous fusions are adorned by one large camera atop her head, a tribute to Stefano’s creepy voyeurism. Compounding this idea of the camera as a lens for the voyeur is some areas of the game are overshadowed by a giant camera lens staring out at you from the sky, like a great eye as Stefano oversees all.
What is most disturbing about the Osbcura isn’t so much as the way she looks, it’s the noises she makes and her gyrating movements she takes, moaning in pleasure with each step. It’s a violent, psychosexual creation as the very act of female pleasure is taken and weaponized for Stefano’s sick enjoyment. Again, these are visions pulled directly from his subconscious, and how he perceives female sexuality. She is faceless, her identity stripped away from her and replaced with a tribute to his voyeurism, and her only existence is to protect him pleasing his aesthetic sensibilities. She has no goals or ambition or agenda of her own, a mere avatar for him to use and discard as he wills.
One can easily look to the Guardian and Obscura as commentaries on how video-games and art often treat women within their stories. Despite the raw power these feminine archetypes wield, their existence is only a half-life, without any agendas of their own. They serve only the male figures who create and use them.
The victims-as-monsters trope also sees a subversion within both games given the unique nature of the virtual setting. STEM is not reality, or at least, is only a reflection of reality. Remember, the entire game takes place within a virtual world maintained and created by the subconscious minds inside of it. Laura, the Obscura, and the Guardian, are reflections of those victims, and how they are perceived by the men who knew them. The Laura-creature is a perception created by the guilt of her brother, and Obscura and Guardian are the reflection of how Stefano views his victims. The victims themselves are not the monsters to be destroyed, but rather the perceptions of men, some of which who were participants in their victimization.
My trouble with the victims-as-monsters trope comes from the idea that victimization warps and destroys you as a person. You are damaged goods are no longer of any worth to society. In horror, often the victim-turned-monster is a reflection of our culture’s discomfort and unwillingness to look upon these difficult aspects of our society, and so we view victimization itself as a monster through this unfortunate lens. In the Evil Within 2, it is this perception of monstrosity that we are putting down; a subtle distinction, but a vital one nonetheless. Victims are not monsters, though the way society and abusers view them is monstrous.
The last female monster I want to discuss here without getting into spoiler territory is the singing ghost woman, Anima.
An entirely optional enemy, Anima can be avoided throughout most of the game. She is entirely unbeatable, and can only evaded through careful stealth maneuvers. She traps Sebastian in hallucinations reminiscent of his trip through the first game in Beacon hospital, floating through corridors and walls and singing eerily, calling out Sebastian’s name and giggling.
Though references to her stalking previous victims within STEM can be found, Anima seems to be a representation of Sebastian’s guilt-complex. Surviving encounters with her often leads to discovering a slide that can be viewed in his room where he discusses his past and feelings in detail. Her final encounter leads to him confronting his guilt and his past. Sebastian avoids her stalking and comes upon a vision of himself as he appeared in the first game lying on a table, and he resolves to finally move on from the horror, literally shooting this reflection of his past.
The feminine archetype here is used to torment Sebastian’s guilt over the deaths of his wife and daughter. She torments him, reminding him of all that he failed to do. The Evil Within 2’s central plot-line is yet another story of a father/daughter relationship, and both subverts and plays into these tropes of femininity needing to be protected by masculine archetypes.
We’ll get more into that when we discuss the women who drive the plot of the game, in part 2.
Dorian Dawes is the author of the queer horror anthology Harbinger Island. You can read more of their short fiction and essay work at patreon.com/doriandawes
