High Hell

High Hell is a fast-paced, cel-shaded first-person shooter where players rampage through surreal, hellish environments, kicking down doors, blasting grotesque comic-book style enemies like genetically manipulated animals, and flipping switches in short, chaotic bursts of arcade-style action reminiscent of 90s classics, delivering vulgar, hilarious mayhem without narrative pretensions.

High Hell: Review

Introduction

Imagine kicking down a door in a neon-drenched skyscraper, unleashing a shotgun blast that sends a masked goon ragdolling into oblivion, then parachuting off the rooftop amid piles of burning cartel cash—all in under 30 seconds. This is the manic pulse of High Hell, a 2017 indie first-person shooter that strips the genre to its rawest adrenaline core. Developed by Terri Vellmann and Doseone, published by Devolver Digital, it arrived amid a renaissance of “boomer shooters” like Dusk and Amid Evil, but carved its niche with unapologetic brevity and absurdity. As a game historian, I see High Hell as a punk rock manifesto against bloated modern FPS epics—proof that 1-2 hours of precision violence can outshine endless open-world slogs. My thesis: High Hell isn’t just a game; it’s a speedrunning artifact and stylistic triumph that redefined minimalist FPS design for the indie era.

Development History & Context

High Hell emerged from the fertile chaos of 2017’s indie scene, a year when Devolver Digital solidified its reputation for publishing irreverent gems like Hotline Miami 2 and Enter the Gungeon. Solo developer Terri Vellmann, known for the roguelike roguelite Heavy Bullets (2016), handled programming, art, and design, drawing from her Brazilian-American roots (noted in Wikipedia credits) to infuse a vibrant, cel-shaded aesthetic reminiscent of early PlayStation titles like Ape Escape. Collaborator Adam “Doseone” Drucker, the experimental rapper behind soundtracks for Gang Beasts and Enter the Gungeon, composed the game’s throbbing electronic OST, marking their second joint effort after Heavy Bullets.

Built in Unity, High Hell sidestepped the era’s technological bloat—no photorealistic ray-tracing or live-service demands here. Instead, it embraced hardware constraints akin to 1990s Quake clones: low-poly models, bloom-heavy shaders for a “color-bleeding” haze, and physics tuned for exaggerated ragdolls. Released on October 23, 2017, for Windows and macOS via Steam and itch.io at $9.99, it targeted a landscape dominated by narrative-heavy titans like Destiny 2 and Wolfenstein II. Indie FPS were resurging post-Doom (2016), craving retro purity amid multiplayer fatigue. Vellmann’s vision—evident in Steam’s “twitchy fast FPS gameplay tailored for keyboard and mouse”—prioritized speedrunning over accessibility, with no gamepad support to enforce precision. Devolver’s marketing, via trailers by Kert Gartner, amplified its “neon-soaked arcade-action” vibe, positioning it as a gleeful antidote to corporate excess.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

High Hell‘s story is a fever dream of corporate satanism, delivered in fragmented, “nonsensical interactive cutscenes” that prioritize chaos over coherence. You play an unnamed female luchadora—masked, jacket-clad, enigmatic—storming Pitchcorp, a skyscraper empire fronting Satan’s cartel. Bo$$, the horned CEO (revealed as Lucifer in a One-Winged Angel finale), oversees drug labs, gunrunning, mecha production, and animal sacrifices. Levels escalate absurdly: pop brainwashed chimps, deface Bo$$ portraits (dartboard-style vandalism in cutscenes), burn laundered money hills, rescue goats from rituals, sabotage Wi-Fi, or torch flags.

Dialogue is sparse—mostly enemy grunts or loading-screen vignettes like air-horning goats or corpse-tossing into ball pits—emphasizing “more shooting, less reading.” Themes skew satirical: anti-capitalist fury against “corporate greed,” with Pitchcorp as a hellish 9-to-5 (barbecues, showers, Casual Fridays amid pentagrams). Absurdism reigns—enemies grill hot dogs mid-fight, naked goons (masks intact) shower eternally—mocking FPS tropes while evoking Hotline Miami‘s neon nihilism. The luchadora’s motives? A “riddle for the ages,” per TV Tropes, fueling replay speculation. Climaxing with Bo$$’s eye-popping chokehold morph into a baby-devil (roll credits), it’s thematic pulp: righteous vigilantism vs. systemic evil, wrapped in vulgar mayhem. No deep lore, but hidden details (cigarette butts, sigil-spammed logos) reward lore hounds, critiquing blind corporate devotion.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

At its core, High Hell is a run-and-gun loop distilled to lethality: infiltrate linear corridors atop Pitchcorp’s skyscraper, complete objectives, parachute out. Twenty handcrafted levels (plus bosses) demand breakneck speed—entire runs under 20 minutes for achievements. Your sole weapon: a “soul-sucking shotgun” firing unlimited, tracer-lined lasers (no ammo/reload counter, just health bar). Combat thrives on one-shot kills (three for minigun foes), drop-kicks for doors/stealth stuns, jump/crouch/zoom basics. Souls from kills restore health; batteries heal fully. No progression—pure skill test.

Innovations shine: pyromania (burn cash for score multipliers), side objectives (save 1-5 animals, burn X money), secrets (shortcuts, dolls). Bosses like Professor Meth (bullet-spam warm-up), Cyber Cyclops Beelzebot (eye-weakness puzzle), or Doberwoman add variety—trial-and-error amid physics chaos (Blown Across the Room ragdolls). UI is minimalist: health bar, objective tally, end-level scores (money burned, time). Flaws? Repetition (memorize enemy spawns), AI quirks (psychic detection vs. blind spots), luck in bosses like Beelzebot. Leaderboards fuel replay, but no level editor limits longevity. Tailored for KBM, it’s hypnotic: die-restart loops feel fair, rewarding mastery over grind.

World-Building, Art & Sound

Pitchcorp’s “gateless ghetto” skyscraper is a vertical maze of container depots, labs, gyms, and vaults—gray concrete pierced by crimson pentagrams, Pitchfork logos everywhere (Sigil Spam). Atmosphere drips sleazy infernality: exploding barrels, safety cones amid hot dog stands, brainwashed chimps on ledges. Levels evolve—rooftop rampages to money-vault finales—building claustrophobic tension via corridors, ladders, balconies.

Visuals: cel-shaded, blocky PS1 homage with neon-pink bleeds, haze filters evoking acid trips. Ragdolls defy physics hilariously (Eye Pop, groin shots launching foes skyward). Sound design amplifies frenzy: punchy lasers, door-shatters, Doseone’s “face-melting OST”—pulsing synths, arcade chiptunes blending Hotline Miami beats with industrial rage. Played LOUD, it transforms offices into rave infernos. Together, they forge immersion: hyperactive anarchy where every kick feels righteous.

Reception & Legacy

Launched to “generally favorable” acclaim—Metacritic 79/100, OpenCritic 76% recommend, Steam Very Positive (86% from 1,374 reviews)—High Hell earned raves for “anarchic neon-pink adrenaline” (Destructoid, 8/10) and “chaotic, gratifying mayhem” (Cultured Vultures, 80%). Critics lauded speedrunning purity (GamesBeat, 80/100; Hardcore Gamer, 8/10), absurdist humor, visuals; dinged brevity (“sweet but short,” Merry Go Round), repetition. Commercially modest (26 MobyGames collectors), it thrived on sales/DLC potential, bundles like Terri/Doseone pack.

Reputation evolved: initial speedrun darling (leaderboards, 20-min achievements) into boomer shooter pioneer, influencing Ultrakill, Prodeus. TV Tropes catalogs its tropes (Gruesome Goat, Bottomless Magazines); wiki notes collabs (Sludge Life, Disc Room). In history, it exemplifies 2017 indie FPS pivot—minimalism vs. AAA excess—preserving arcade ethos amid battle royales.

Conclusion

High Hell masterfully deconstructs FPS to its ecstatic essence: blistering combat, satirical absurdity, stylistic verve in a 1-2 hour blitz. Strengths—gunplay, OST, humor—eclipse flaws like shortness, echoing Quake‘s purity while aping Hotline Miami‘s neon psychosis. As historian, I verdict it a landmark: not revolutionary, but essential indie artifact, cementing Vellmann/Doseone’s legacy and fueling boomer shooter revival. At $1.99-$9.99, it’s obligatory—stick it to Bo$$ today. Score: 9/10—A hellish high in gaming’s chaotic pantheon.