Santa Ragione’s Horses Confronts Power And Abuse In A Stark Horror Portrait

The HORSES review examines a game built around coercion, dread, and moral pressure. Santa Ragione’s latest work immerses players in a black-and-white nightmare shaped by subjugation and escalating psychological strain. It's world frames every action as a test of agency, forcing players to confront not only what they do, but why they do it.

The reporting here draws on Sarah Thwaites’s review on IGN, which traces the game’s structure, themes, and mechanics while noting its uncompromising tone. Her coverage focuses on how the experience unsettles from the start and grows more oppressive as each task reveals new layers of manipulation and exploitation.

Horses launched under unusual conditions. Valve declined to host it, blocking any Steam release even before launch. Epic Games Store followed with a last-minute reversal, halting sales despite earlier plans. Finally, GOG accepted the title and became a primary outlet after the Steam ban. That split reflects the broader debate around the game’s content and the limits of major storefronts.

The story follows Anselmo, a 20-year-old sent from college to a rural farm for two weeks. The place is wrong from the moment he arrives. The “horses” are naked humans in fixed masks, reduced to livestock under a farmer who oversees every movement with rigid control and an unspoken threat. Each chore pushes Anselmo deeper into a system built to break its subjects, and each scene reveals how far the farmer’s reach extends. The farm becomes a stage where obedience is monitored, and any deviation invites fear of punishment.

The presentation leans heavily on silent-film language. Title cards replace spoken lines, and the screen shifts between grainy footage, live-action inserts, and stark, static compositions. Scenes rely on contrast rather than spectacle, leaving the viewer locked on small gestures or repeated motions that grow more disturbing with context. A faint mechanical hum runs through each segment, mimicking old film reels and sharpening the game’s sense of isolation. This slow rhythm creates tension even in routine tasks.

Daily assignments appear simple: feed the dog, chop wood, clean the stables. Each job, though, leads to situations that erode any sense of normalcy. Equipment is scarce, inventory space is limited, and the animals—or people—inside the pens shift unpredictably. Even the dog, another masked captive, moves through the area with an unsettling awareness that disrupts planned routes. The environment feels alive yet hostile, and its smallest threats come from beings shaped into tools for the farmer’s goals.

Search sequences form some of the most intense stretches. When several horses escape, the trail leads past the farm’s gates, ending in a confrontation that exposes the divide between those trapped inside and those who briefly slip free. These brief encounters carry more weight than many scripted set pieces. Their restraint heightens the dread and keeps the emphasis on control and consequence rather than shock value.

Local residents deepen the tension. A veterinarian, a businessman, his daughter, and a priest appear across the summer, each behaving as though nothing is amiss. Their short conversations hint at tacit approval of the farmer’s system. These characters reinforce the idea that the farm is only one part of a larger hierarchy. The world around Anselmo feels complicit, indifferent, or resigned, leaving him with no clear path out.

Night sequences, dreams merge with memory, pushing Anselmo into scenes shaped by religious and sexual trauma. These sequences operate without exposition, using symbols and clipped imagery rather than explanation. They function as pressure valves, revealing the emotional weight of what Anselmo endures during the day. Their ambiguity adds to the game’s force, giving players room to interpret rather than solving each image for them.

Mechanical friction occasionally interrupts the momentum. Progress stalls when tasks fail to trigger new instructions or when required items hide behind inconspicuous designs. These bottlenecks break the spell of an otherwise carefully restrained experience. Searching a small farm for a hidden object can feel tedious when the surrounding narrative works so hard to maintain tension. That disconnect stands out, though it does not overshadow the game’s stronger elements.

Horses runs for about three hours, a length that suits their controlled pacing. The short runtime keeps the story focused, letting each scene serve its purpose without extending the player’s suffering for effect. The ending brings its questions into sharper focus rather than offering clarity or closure. Anselmo’s place in this system remains fraught, and the farm’s logic lingers long after the final frame.

The review notes that Santa Ragione uses interactivity to force reflection rather than to reward mastery. The player’s discomfort is the point. Every action raises a question about who benefits from it and what compliance means within such a structure. This difference sets Horses apart from other horror titles that rely on danger or survival mechanics. Here, the threat lies in participation itself.

Despite structural flaws, Horses stands out for its uncompromising vision. The narrative’s force comes not from its shocks but from its quiet, steady insistence that the player look directly at exploitation and consider their own role within it. Its approach may divide audiences, but its effect is difficult to dismiss.

HORSES is available to play on PC (GOG store).