A week after its release, many of the comments on the eighth episode of ‘Resident Evil’ focus on a number of aspects: on the one hand, the setting in a European village, a kind of linear hub from which all its institutions depart, such as the infamous castle of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters. On the other hand, the reorientation of the mechanics towards unbridled action, an element that has never been foreign to the series, but which is amplified in this episode by waves of highly resilient enemies and an abundance of ammunition and weapons.
With such features as standard-bearers of discussion, it is inevitable to return time and again to comparisons to ‘Resident Evil 4’, the 2005 installment of the saga that first took a turn towards shooting mechanics over all others there. consideration. A turn that made it one of the iconic titles in the saga, and also one of the most influential.
But the other aspect of ‘Village’ that giving to speak, the half-finished people also drink a lot of that surrender that just turned fifteen, only there was the village … Spanish. It is one of the most idiosyncratic elements of the saga, as we have a deep but “deep” Spain, as understood by the term Lovecraft. Asylvestrate and aggressive villagers, iconic and meaningless phrases and even a first appearance of the Benemérita listening to flamenco in a Seat Panda. The perfect material for a cult nightmare.
Behind you, asshole!
The story begins with the absolute prominence of Leon S. Kennedy, one of two heroes of the second installment of the saga. Your mission here is to rescue the daughter of the president of the United States, Ashley, kidnapped by a mysterious organization called Los Iluminados,and held in a village in northern Spain. There you will encounter characters of relatively Hispanic names, such as Bitores Méndez, head of the villagers; Luis Sera, who is also investigating the case; o Ramon Salazar, one of the villain’s henchmen. The virus, on this occasion, we know it under a mutation called Las Plagas.
With this data alone you can see that ‘Resident Evil 4’ falls into one of the great errors of the representation of Spain in the audiovisual: the confusion and mixing of elements from, in fact from different Latin American countries,especially Mexico. Surnames such as Salazar or the unmistakable Latin accent of the Spanish-spoken parts are good proof of this.
And that was not lacking documentation: like good Japanese, the people of Capcom organized a documentation trip to Spain (and the United Kingdom) where they photographed all kinds of elements such as stone textures, atmosphere and Gothic monuments. That was before the initial crazy and exaggerated action approach was discarded and transformed into another game, the first ‘Devil May Cry’ of 2001.
The Latin accent isn’t the only location drama in the game: ‘Resident Evil 4’ is full of bugs that give away pretty serious documentation flaws. For example, the currency of the game is the peseta (eh, at least not pesos), currency that had been replaced by the euro quite earlier,in 1999. There are hieroglyphics on walls of clear Mesopotamian influence, and an inscription of a human sacrifice in the clearest style of the Aztecs, something that has historically never occurred in Spain.
Dying is living
Although the most memorable thing about the game, without a doubt, is the churrigueresque use of Spanish with which the mysterious villagers of El Ganado (the putties that are thrown at us in the initial phase of the game) increet Leon. Some of the phrases are repeated with such insistence, and are so ridiculous, they become a germ of involuntary comedy