Boss Rush: Despite Konami’s Best Efforts, Pyramid Head Remains One of Gaming’s Greatest Monsters

Frequently, at the end of a videogame level, there’s a big dude who really wants to kill you. Boss Rush is a column about the most memorable examples of these, whether they challenged us with tough-as-nails attack patterns, introduced visually unforgettable sequences, or because they delivered monologues that left a mark. Sometimes, we’ll even discuss more abstract examples, like a rhetorical throwdown or a tricky final puzzle or all those damn guitar solos in “Green Grass and High Tides.”

Even if you’ve never played a Silent Hill game, chances are that you’ve experienced at least some of its imagery in passing, whether that be its titular town or the hellish creatures that dwell there, such as faceless nurses or undulating flesh monsters. But of its many tortured creations, none are as iconic as a certain giant sword-wielding menace who has consumed much of what came after, Red Pyramid Thing, otherwise known as Pyramid Head.

He’s a foe that encapsulates why this series left such a mark, whether it’s how he fits into Silent Hill 2’s web of symbolism, his anxiety-provoking chase sequences, or his disquieting design that seems like it crawled out of an industrial rendition of Hieronymus Bosch painting. And more than just representing the series’ artistic highs, he also embodies its lows as he transformed from a monster as a metaphor with a specific purpose to an increasingly toothless mascot for a dying brand.

However, despite Pyramid Head’s lofty status, he’s used surprisingly sparingly in the game he’s introduced, Silent Hill 2. Unlike other “chaser”-type foes such as Nemesis from Resident Evil 3 or Mr. X in the remake of Resident Evil 2, Pyramid Head is less a persistent threat and more an on-and-off bad dream that abruptly resurfaces when you think you’ve finally moved on.

As James navigates the shifting fog of Silent Hill in search of his wife, Mary, he comes across an apartment complex, a place of repetitive corridors broken up by unlikely sights. He works through one such identical hallway, and his radio begins to buzz, a sign that a monster is nearby. While approaching prison bars that improbably bisect this passage, you see something in the dark on the other side: a blood-soaked figure with a pyramid for a head. It doesn’t move or give chase, simply staring at you from behind the bars.

It’s a moment that gets at the heart of the series, not a jump scare or even a sustained panicked battle, but something stranger, more off-kilter, and seemingly random. There’s no sudden crescendo of the score, only the increasing intensity of static noise. There’s no punchline either, as it doesn’t burst forward from its enclosure. But somehow, this absence of action feels so much worse, a demon you can’t exorcise until much later. If you leave and come back, it’s gone, waiting for you elsewhere in this living hell.

The next two encounters are far more pointed and disturbing, and in both, Pyramid Head seems to abuse other monsters as James watches from the shadows. Although later turns in the story reveal these scenes aren’t merely included for shock value, initially, they’re defined by a deep wrongness that lands even more uncomfortably if you’re mostly familiar with the character from their ensuing mascot status. After this third encounter, he attacks you for the first time, slowly shuffling in your direction.

Here, up close, you can finally make out many of Pyramid Head’s details. He’s mostly humanoid in appearance, aside from the triangular rusting helmet that hangs over their butcher’s apron, a surreal detail that ties together their design and calls to mind the similarly obscured face of Magritte’s The Son of Man. He drags a massive blade, the Great Knife, and has the bearing of an executioner, a link confirmed by a painting found in the Silent Hill Historical Society museum, which reveals the town’s long-running connection to capital punishment. In many ways, it feels like art director Masahiro Ito distilled the entire essence of the series into a single figure, an unnatural amalgamation of corroded metal and necrotic flesh born from a plagued mind. In a world of writhing Jacob’s Ladder-esque hellspawn, Pyramid Head’s harsh angles hone this nightmare imagery to a fine point.

When you finally fight him for the first time, it’s not challenging because your foe has an intricate moveset, but more due to the stress of finally facing them after this agonizing build-up. His slow movements accentuate this tension as he pursues, dragging his hulking weapon behind. It all looks fittingly inelegant as you fumble against the small confines of this arena, the cumbersome tank controls, and your own dread, each making it that much harder to escape this executioner’s stroke. After unloading nearly every round in your possession, a fog horn sounds, and the creature recedes down a flooded staircase. But of course, this isn’t the end. A few moments later, the water drains. You need to go in the same direction he just headed.

While the scene is relatively scary in and of itself, what makes it far more awful is that from this point on, you know that Pyramid Head may be around any corner, ready to cleave you with his Great Knife. Now, whenever you hear the score’s gnashing steel drums and atonal screeches, you’ll swear you can make out the familiar grind of his weapon against pavement underneath it all, even if it’s not actually there. The game delights in this unbearable tension, going hours without an appearance until he unceremoniously lurches into the frame.

For instance, later, you pass through underground corridors with Maria (a woman who looks suspiciously similar to your missing wife), traveling close behind. But as you turn a corner, suddenly, there’s a third figure, Pyramid Head. There’s no build of music or ceremony involved; he’s just there. It would feel satirical if it wasn’t so stunning to see him suddenly on your heels, ready to impale you with a new weapon, a spear. In that moment, it’s hard not to be overcome with the urge to flee, and in the following cutscene, James does the same as he sprints towards the elevator, leaving Maria behind to be skewered by the creature. This scene weaponizes the pure fear that comes over you as the monster suddenly resurfaces after hours away, extending James’ guilt to the player as they likely abandon their companion.

Throughout the story, Pyramid Head acts as James and the player’s tormentor, a purpose that is eventually spelled out directly. Near the final act, our protagonist finds a videotape that holds a truth he’s forced himself to forget: he killed his terminally ill wife. After being called to Silent Hill, a place that literalizes the wracked subconscious of those unfortunate enough to be summoned, this bogeyman is created to rake James over the coals until he remembers what he’s done, hounding him and killing the doppelganger of his wife to make him confront his evil acts. In the final battle against twin Pyramid Heads, he says, “I was weak. That’s why I needed you… Needed someone to punish me for my sins…. But that’s all over now…. I know the truth…. Now it’s time to end this.” With Pyramid Head’s purpose fulfilled and the fear sucked out of their presence, this last boss fight is perhaps appropriately the least frightening.

While this somewhat lackluster ultimate scuffle and the creature’s clean-cut purpose could have undercut their previous presence, Silent Hill 2 is so well-assembled that all this still works. Understanding the symbolism and secrets here doesn’t undermine the cold terror of the game’s inhuman score, the deep-seated strangeness of its presentation, and most of all, the primeval dread of a monstrous figure wielding a hunk of steel. Pyramid Head’s function may be cleanly explained, but the jagged edges of his presentation and lingering mysteries like what lurks under his mask ensure that he still looms large in the imagination.

However, while this villain is perfectly handled in Silent Hill 2, in the years since, Konami and subsequent creators have done their best to undermine the character by forcing him into sequels, even though he was designed as a hyper-specific manifestation of James’ guilt-ridden conscience. The monster represents not only James’ torment but also his selfish impulse to take Mary’s life, as manifested in Pyramid Head abusing the more feminine-coded creatures he comes across.

But despite the specific intent here and the sensitive issues he overlaps with (which also make him an atrocious mascot), after the original studio that created these games, Team Silent, was disbanded and Konami became increasingly creatively bankrupt, Pyramid Head would be stuffed in numerous follow-ups. He showed up in Silent Hill Homecoming, as a cameo in other games, in the films, and, in a move that most succinctly demonstrates the company’s indulgences, in a slot machine. As a result of these blows, the character’s creator, Masahiro Ito, eventually wrote on Twitter, “I wish I hadn’t designed fxxkin Pyramid Head.”

It’s hard to think of many monsters that summarize a work as well as Pyramid Head. The creature embodies Silent Hill’s thoughtful and unnerving spin on psychological horror, whether it’s his striking design, specific purpose in the narrative, or the ways he creates non-traditional scares. And unfortunately, he also works as a stand-in for the series’ downward spiral, a character transformed from a meaningful symbol into a marketing figurehead as Konami slashed and burned their internal studios to make a quick buck.

Still, even with these mars, no matter how many underwhelming movies, live service games, or gambling machines he gets slapped onto, nothing can take away Pyramid Head’s status as the most memorable foe in one of the best horror games of all time. “In my restless dreams, I see that town. Silent Hill,” and with it, a cleaver-wielding butcher ready to mete out well-deserved punishment.

Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant Games and TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to playing and watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves film, creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Twitter @eli_gonzalez11.