Thirty-seven people. Four countries. One obsession — horror that stays with you long after the screen goes dark.
“Horror is not a genre. It is a promise — that we will take you somewhere uncomfortable and leave you there long enough for it to mean something.”
To create horror experiences rooted in atmosphere, literary craft, and emotional truth — games that unsettled minds return to again and again, long after the credits roll.
A future where horror games are taken as seriously as literary horror, art house cinema, and experimental theatre — where dread is design, and silence is as powerful as any effect.
Every environment is a character. We spend more time on sound design, lighting, and environmental storytelling than on mechanics.
Fear should be built through context, not noise. We resist the cheap and commit to the slow burn — tension that compounds over hours.
Our narratives draw from the horror literary canon — Ligotti, Barker, Poe, and King. We write games we’d want to be read.
We trust our players. No hand-holding, no tutorial text. You discover the world the way you would in real life — by being in it.
Our team spans four countries. We’ve built async workflows that honour different timezones and working styles. Location is irrelevant. Obsession is not.
We prototype aggressively and kill ideas that don’t serve the player. Every feature earns its place. Every mechanic must justify the dread it costs to learn.
Slack channels named after Ligotti stories. Design docs written like essays. We treat narrative as a first-class citizen, not an afterthought.
Fully remote. Spread across four countries. United by a pathological love of horror and a refusal to make games we wouldn’t want to play ourselves.
We’re not looking for people who want a job. We’re looking for people who can’t help themselves — who lose hours in world-building, who hear a sound cue and spend the rest of the day thinking about why it worked.