But the thing that began to eat away at me were the thoughts of who my character was, and what terrible things I may have done to deserve this dark, Victorian hell. Don't get me wrong – the prospect of death at the hooves a grotesque, bipedal pig monster still hung in the air. Something intangible, yet much more terrifying to me on a personal level. There came a strange yet enlightening moment about halfway through, where my fear of the things that go bump in the night took a backseat to a completely different breed of dread. Developer The Chinese Room (known for its work on Dear Esther) does an impeccable job of creating a sense of place that inspires fear while simultaneously a compulsion to explore. Wandering through the foggy streets of London and making your way through a slaughterhouse that would make Upton Sinclair cringe provides a wonderful setting for a brutal descent into the mouth of madness. The journey of Oswald Mandus, an amnesiac in search of his missing children during the final hours of the 19th century, unfolds with a wonderful sense of dread and mystery. But while it demands less of you through its mechanics, in return it asks much more in terms of unraveling its macabre, savagely poignant story. You won't be hiding in closets, flicking your light on and off to regain your sanity, or scouring the environment for extra oil and tinderboxes. Honestly, stripping down A Machine for Pigs to its bare essentials makes it a much less physically taxing game. Play But while devoted fans of the original might be turned off by the paring these iconic features, A Machine for Pigs delivers a tighter and arguably more interesting horror experience than its predecessor.
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