What Crossed did for post-apocalyptic zombies, Ferals is doing for werewolves, complete with the extremity dial turned up to 11. David Lapham has created an engaging werewolf mystery, which doesn’t shy away from the gore and beefs up the sex (brutal, deadly sex, which rarely leaves the participants in one piece).
To this end it’s a nasty piece of work, clearly intended to appeal to our basest entertainment needs. However, beneath the piles of severed limbs, there is a good selection of multi-faceted characters and an engaging storyline. It sees a small town US cop investigating a spate of horrific murders to try and find the culprit, uncovering unsavoury clues as the body-count starts to pile up.
The werewolves live in a private community in the hills, rarely meeting outsiders for the good of both sides. But when the community splits apart, all hell breaks loose and the nearby town feels the full force of the horror that lurks in the forest.
Ferals is only likely to appeal to those with a taste for extreme horror, as it is very graphic. Crossed and Neonomicon spring to mind as having similar themes, and while Ferals isn’t quite as gut-churningly horrible as Crossed, it’s only slightly better.
But then what is a werewolf story supposed to do? Lapham’s shock tactics bring a certain freshness to the genre, while Gabriel Andrade’s unflinching portrayal of savage werewolf attacks leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s a brutal take on the genre and is not for the weak stomached, but I actually rather enjoyed the journey Lapham’s subversive unpolished policeman takes in his attempt to save his town.