A Review of MOUTHWASHING

And What We Talk About When We Talk About Art

CW: Body Horror, SA, Torture. Also Philosophy, Literary Criticism, and yes I’m going to talk about Silent Hill 2 again.

“I HOPE THIS HURTS”

That’s the opening message of the indie game Mouthwashing, a micro-horror experience that has the internet buzzing with fan art, “explained” videos, and all the usual community driven hallmarks of a successful game in this genre. Not to bury the lede, but if there is something I can say I like about Mouthwashing, it’s that it’s gotten people to have a conversation but, well…we’ll get to it.

The game is not subtle in its intentions, it tells you early and often that it is not a “fun” game, that it is here to make you uncomfortable, to horrify you, to make you question your own agency as the player and that the pit in your stomach is there on purpose. “I hope this hurts.” And, you know, I’ll give it credit for that, it knows exactly what it is and, holy damn does it execute on that intention.

The very first action that you take in this game, after being told that you need to turn left in order to avoid crashing your spaceship into an asteroid, is to turn right. It is the only thing you can do, no matter how much you look for an alternate path. There just isn’t one. And I was fully on board for this!

Some of my favorite games interrogate the relationship between player and player character—how much influence you have, who’s actions are really being delivered, and who’s at fault for those actions. Spec Ops: The Line comes to mind with it’s haunting loading screens that start with gameplay tips and weapon information like “The M134 minigun fires an impressive 3,000 rounds per minute,” basically exactly what you’d expect from a post-death screen, then slowly transitions to chilling, pointed statements like “Do you feel like a hero yet?” and “Cognitive dissonance is an uncomfortable feeling caused by holding two conflicting ideas simultaneously.”

The imagery in Mouthwashing is every bit as haunting and iconic as survival horror titans like Silent Hill 2, which I’ve already spent far too much of my one, precious life gushing about, but the comparison is very much warranted. All of these games are psychologically driven horror experiences with complex characters that blur the line between diegetic reality, character delusions, and the agency of the character and player, and I love the latter examples.

But, here’s the twist, I think I hate Mouthwashing. And I cannot stop thinking about it.