Does a falling tree make a sound if no one’s around? Can an indie game be good if it’s full of nuances and infuriating to the point of madness? What do you do if the gameplay drains the player’s energy but still manages to get to the heart of the matter? Andrey Chernyshov (aka Anji Games) answered these questions in such a way that I spent three days with a twitching eye and a burning desire to write him a thank-you note, complete with an axe.
You know, when I hear the phrase “the game was made by a single developer,” I usually go into skepticism mode. So what? But then you look at what studios with teams of hundreds and a budget big enough for a small country are churning out—and the hair on your neck starts standing on end. Silly Polly Beast is a case where one guy just told everyone to go to hell and made a top-down horror shooter. And he managed to create what many effective managers and number crunchers forgot how to do ten years ago—a game with soul. After a few hours, it feels like someone’s taken up residence in your head, refuses to pay rent and won’t leave.
Today, we’ll take on the role of a mute girl who, through her own carelessness, managed to end up in hell and create an even more hellish mess there. Behind the bombastic veneer of skateboards, devil-wraiths, and bloody shootouts lies a sad and, at times, spine-chilling story—a story that raises issues of domestic violence, betrayal, and the guilt the girl will carry for the rest of her days.
Beware, heavy spoilers ahead.
The game begins with a text message exchange. Polly arrives at the meeting place with Alice—the place where their escape was supposed to take place. But instead of her friend, only black smoke is visible from the hill. She sits down on a wooden bench, clutching a lighter, her one and only valuable possession, and falls asleep.
While she slept, a wolf with an eye clearly not of this world crept up and stole the lighter. Polly follows the trail, evading the police—because she set fire to her orphanage and escaped. Yes, the same blonde, mute Polly they’re now searching for. She picks up a skateboard abandoned by vandals and listens to the news: “The arsonist escaped yesterday.” Inside the sealed house, a drunk appears on the landing, insistently asking for company only to be told to get lost.
Then comes a precipice, a jump (an unknown voice shouts, “Jump!”), and we find a book about the healing effects of sweets and fatty foods. Now it’s clear: we restore our health with chocolate bars and shawarma.
The logs we’re walking on break, and Polly falls into a well. Flashback: the day before the arson. Alice is sitting with her on the roof, discussing the plan. Get the little ones out of the building, and then Polly must do the most terrible thing—set the orphanage to fire. They talk about some Valentina who deserves her fate. They promise to give her a lighter when it’s all over. They hug, and Polly wakes up at the bottom of the well, where something strange is going on.
The pool is a hellish parody of our world. Skeletons in golden shackles, a red sky, a bloody fog that kills on contact. That same wolf hands over the lighter, but immediately hands start crawling out from everywhere, grabbing Polly. A mummy, the only corpse still retaining some flesh, saves her. The tormented one is a prisoner of this place, just like Polly now is. To save him, three locks placed by three of the most powerful demons must be removed. And in gratitude, he will help escape. The deal is sealed with a chain.
And then – a shotgun? No, first they give you a revolver. A Devilver. A “little tame devil,” which is loaded with lead bullets knocked out of enemies or barrels containing souls. The first enemies are embers, charred corpses. Then rebels who fight the Bloody Fog. We clear the locations, receive our pay. The first boss? Of course, that same drunkard from before – he can’t calm down even in hell; he attacks, gets shot, and dies for the second time that day. Polly is not tormented by her conscience: “The dude deserved it.”
The first thing you notice when you launch the game isn’t the atmosphere of Russian panel houses (though that’s wonderful), but the camerawork, which is unconventional for the genre. Every angle in the game’s scenes is uniquely staged. This is clearly handcrafted, and it demonstrates how powerfully competent direction can change the perception of even the most bland scenes. Silly Polly Beast will often be compared to a movie—and only in a good way.
The camera angles change one after another, each time showing the game in a particularly favorable light. The gameplay flows smoothly from sidescrollers to comic-book storyboards, from isometric shooters to static, unsettling panoramas. The camerawork is designed to constantly create a sense of unease, the lack of safety—and this contrasts sharply with the heroine’s deliberately anime-like appearance.
You never know where the next bastard will jump out from. And the camera “helps” you with this, presenting first the left side, then the right. The world of Silly Polly Beast feels surreal—between trippy dreams, death, and a distorted past. The latter seems to permeate everything that happens. The game promotes a simple yet powerful idea: every scar on the body and mind shapes our present.
The Whirlpool is not only a place but also a metaphor. Everything that happens to Polly is a tight noose that she slowly tightens around her own neck: plunging into memories, punishing herself for past mistakes, and committing new ones. Apparently, to escape from here, she will first have to let go and forgive herself.
The aesthetics of the Russian outback, combined with the mystical landscapes of the Whirlpool, create the unique image of an infernal Purgatory. Rusty industrial zones, dark alleys, ominous interiors with peeling paint, lamps casting overly harsh shadows, each location is a slice of the heroine’s old life, distorted enough to be disconcerting just by its appearance. You’re walking through a shabby paneled building, and through the window you see a drunk faceplanting into the asphalt. Then you fall into fog, and there are flying coffins and skeletons in Pioneer ties.
Excellent ambient music and a soundtrack that doesn’t get boring even after 6-10 hours of play. Sometimes, it’s reminiscent of the best indie horror films, in others, guitar riffs that make you start tapping your feet. The only problem is that the sounds of impacts aren’t always synchronized with the image, but that’s just nitpicking on my part.
And yes: the main menu is designed as a mobile phone, where you can see the reflection of the main character’s face. A small thing, but a nice touch.
The game can be described as a survival horror game with an emphasis on firearms and simple puzzles. Silly Polly Beast is divided into five chapters, which take us to different locations: a ruined suburb, a historic downtown, an abandoned orphanage, and a pioneer camp (yes, the one with the horns and “light up the fires”—only here the fires burn differently). Between locations, we explore the subway and learn how to navigate between portals.
The player’s goal is to navigate the locations, balancing stealth (pull your hood over your head and explore your surroundings) and open combat, using the environment and conserving ammunition.Polly can pull up her hood for stealth—this allows her to spot traps that can be used against enemies, or simply avoid them.
The best gameplay sections are related to the skateboard. The sections where you need to dodge and jump over obstacles to reach the next level are brilliant. The skateboard controls are incredibly enjoyable. Great job, developer! Polly jumps, ducks, flies over the abyss—and in these moments, you feel less like you’re in a horror game and more like you’re in some kind of punk-rock fairytale. It’s just a shame there aren’t that many of these sections. Incidentally, there was an inglorious option to walk through, but that’s for the faint of heart.
And now, to what makes this game either worthy of praise or criticism. Andrey Chernyshev seems to have completely forgotten what difficulty balance is as it simply doesn’t exist here. Some encounters are easy, others are insane. The difficulty level skyrockets, and enemies spawn right behind you the moment you move to another scene. When you launch Silly Polly Beast, you should immediately grit your teeth: even if it’s easy at any given point, it won’t last long, trust me.
There’s no power ceiling to speak of. Even when Polly becomes a demonic weapon and the right hand of the local king (horns, tail, wolf eye), the Whirlpool immediately throws up new, fat enemies, and you feel like a pathetic nobody again. The entire fight becomes a constant back-and-forth—not because this is another Babazaka creation, but because your health is constantly at zero, enemies don’t drop any shawarma or chocolate, and you’re simply desperately trying to survive in the darkness.
Bosses are a whole other story. Each boss battle is unique and engaging. Most give up on the third or fourth try. But the final boss… In the first phase, it summons three dogs that take half your HP with a single bite (there are no invulnerability frames). In the final phase, it’s surrounded by a wall of shields, and I spent about ten minutes running around, killing the summoned enemies. Shields could be eliminated by entering the Fog, which had been a bad idea throughout the entire game—illogical and slightly infuriating!
Some might say that’s par for the course for a horror game. But no: a tense encounter is one thing, and an unbalanced skirmish that leaves you gnashing your teeth and wanting to put down your gamepad is quite another.
The good news: the developer is listening. Post-release patches have been released that reworked enemy AI, lowered store prices, and simplified some battles. Now, on Easy difficulty, you can truly play without losing your cool. But on Hard, be prepared for the final boss to still make you want to turn off your PC and retire to a monastery.
The most powerful thing about Silly Polly Beast is the backstory that unfolds between shootouts. We see Polly in the orphanage. She sneaks into the boys’ workshop, carving a teddy bear keychain for the shop teacher. The shop teacher is kind, doesn’t scold her, only warns, “Don’t get caught by Margo, she’s hanging around Valentina.”
Next comes Margo. A real bastard. She shows the boys that teddy bear and rejoices: the shop teacher was fired because he let a girl into the workshop. Then comes a scene that makes your blood run cold. Valentina Petrovna scolds Polly for drawing in the boys’ room. “Thinking you’re the smartest one around here, are you trying to turn everyone against me? Tell me how bad I am?” And then she starts beating her with a belt. Blood splatters across the screen. “You’re breaking my heart!” And you realize: Polly isn’t a villain. She’s a victim.
In hell, the orphanage looks almost normal—but some of the doors have grown flesh. The director’s office: “The director never cared what went on in this building. He was afraid of the teacher, and everyone knew who was really in charge.”
The parents’ meeting room. The charred corpse of a guest who “especially liked to put girls on his lap and laugh when they tried to escape.” Polly comments: “On days like these, the director smelled especially strongly of alcohol.”
At the climax: Polly realizes that Alice didn’t come to the beach because the parking lot was locked until morning. She couldn’t get out. And so, everyone burned. At that moment, the game breaks you. A lump in your throat. You understand the full weight of guilt Polly bears on her shoulders. She planned to save only Alice and the little ones. But she miscalculated one detail—and everyone died.
After defeating the mosquito demon, Polly begins to ask questions. The Exhausted One said that the demons had chained him. But this mosquito had lived in the basement since birth—how could it have imprisoned anyone?
And then the shocking truth is revealed: The Tormented One isn’t a man in chains at all. He’s a dog. The same one who stole the lighter. A tailed wanderer, a seeker of the chosen ones, who has traveled hundreds of miles between worlds. “The most tormented dog.” The King of Hell is chained, and his dog runs through the worlds, recruiting traumatized little girls to kill demons and free their master. And Polly was just another puppet – but she’s done playing by the rules.
Polly reaches Camp Energetik that, too, has burned down. There, by the wishing pond, children once made their dreams. Polly wished to always be with Alice. She performs a ritual and a reborn Alice bursts from the body of the water strider demon. But that same dog from before grabs her and drags her into the king’s dimension.
Next comes a battle with the king and his dog. To the sound of an incredibly violent rave, dodging columns, shields, and summoned mobs. The final chord—the king is defeated. Polly receives the Eye of the Arcana. Fog fighters kneel. Polly cuts the chain of the contract. The king is dead. Long live the queen?
There are two endings to choose from: one is about hope and preserving humanity. The other is about power and drowning in sin. Redemption? It exists only in the mind. And it depends on the conclusions you draw.
Silly Polly Beast is a bold horror game with a distinctly original vision. A diamond in the rough that only needs a jeweler’s touch to truly shine. But even in this form, it is an excellent indie, balancing on several stools at once and doing so with surprising confidence. A shining example of how sterile multi-million dollar projects sometimes fail to deliver what is born from the talent and tenacity of one person.
Let’s talk about who will enjoy the game, and who better avoid it. Those who love hardcore indie projects in the spirit of Hotline Miami, Ruiner, or Psychopomp or who are nostalgic for Russia in the 2000s and want to see its grotesque yet recognizable reflection will have a grand time. Players who value original style more than polish and bug fixes and who are prepared to die many times and not throw their controller at the wall will make it to the end, and have plenty to think about.
On the other hand, players who want a simple and predictable experience without surprises or who are annoyed by reviving enemies and unfair difficulty are likely to drop the game before seeing the conclusion. There is also plenty of dark humor, dismemberment, and surreal trash, so be prepared.
Andrey Chernyshov is a great guy simply because he single-handedly created something truly special. Crooked, mean, and sometimes infuriating – but still raw and alive.
In any case, I recommend it! Either get it now and be prepared to suffer (but it’s gotten easier after the patches), or wait a bit longer for polish. I’ve already bought two copies: one for myself, one for a friend whose sanity I want to break. And remember: don’t hit girls with a belt. And don’t lock the parking lot on Sunday night. Don’t trust old women who promise to turn rats into pork. Don’t look in mirrors if you’ve grown horns. And don’t drench yourself in demon blood—it’s unhygienic.
