The clues, in the form of Echo Photos and Messages, are scattered about the city. Although finding them is optional, they flesh out a story that is as touching as it is disturbing. Harry’s cell phone squeals with static as you approach a hotspot until an ominous message or photo is captured. Some are purely meant for narrative purposes, while others will aid you in solving Shattered Memories’ handful of in-game puzzles. They are far less eclectic this time around – no medallions and statues to shift – but rarely inspiring. For most, the solution is easily found by reading a conspicuous clue and looking around the room for the corresponding answer. I can’t condemn all puzzles though. One in particular is sure to stay with me as a stroke of genius.

I want to make the distinction between the two realms as clear as possible, because they never intermingle. Early on, it becomes quite apparent that you are not in any danger while exploring Silent Hill. Climax will toss out eerie noises, ramp up the soundtrack, and occasionally pester you with the presence of a ghost-like figure, but it all falls completely flat in terms of horror. However, Shattered Memories can boast the best lighting I have seen on Wii. Outside the cone of Harry’s flashlight, thick shadows lurk with oppressive depth, but they are as empty as they are black.

Welded into the framework of Shattered Memories is the omniscient presence of the Psych Profile. It watches everything you do, tailoring dialogue, characters’ attires, and settings to your traits. Therapy sessions with Dr. K. are interspersed with Harry’s journey, much like breaks between chapters. Exercises, such as separating photos of people into categories of “asleep” or “dead,” provide the most overt examples of Psych Profiling in action. Others are far more subtle. Reading a poster on a wall, calling a found phone number, and the direction of your gaze in conversation all have effects. Eyes up here boys!

Unfortunately, the effects of the Psych Profile are superficial. Whether the police officer, Cybil, appears in a provocatively low-cut shirt, a tactical uniform, or a sheriff’s tie and blazer, has no bearing on gameplay. The Psych Profile determines whether you visit a bar or diner, a salon or gift shop, and a planetarium or art studio. The only differences are the puzzles encountered before returning to the singular path. The creatures of the Nightmare morph as well, forming caustic growths and Escher-esque heads, but their abilities remain unchanged. I found the women more attractive when I answered truthfully and followed my instincts, versus lying and rushing through the second time, but I was hoping for far more than eye-candy.

The Psych Profile adds a unique layer of personal attachment to the characters and settings, but I don’t go to Silent Hill to expose my unconscious sexual desires. I go there to be scared, and Shattered Memories isn’t up to the task. The Nightmare becomes more of nuisance with each appearance and the real-world portions pose all the danger of an interactive novel. If you’re not buying Shattered Memories for the fantastic story, it’s better left forgotten.