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I Hate This Place is a survival horror title that has caught my attention for a long while. Even though I’ve never read the comic it’s inspired by, that hasn’t stopped me from becoming invested. The game isn’t a direct retelling or continuation of the original story. Instead, it borrows heavily from the comic’s atmosphere, time period, visual style, and overall mood.
While the source material lays the groundwork, familiarity with it isn’t necessary to appreciate what the game offers. The original comic, created by Kyle Starks and Artyom Topilin, is set in the 1980s and leans into chaotic, supernatural horror. It’s packed with bizarre creatures, cult activity, alien elements, and relentless psychological dread, creating a world that feels constantly unstable and threatening.
Rather than adapting that storyline, the game presents a brand-new narrative within the same universe. Players step into the role of Elena, who returns to her childhood home with her close friend Lou in hopes of facing unresolved memories and long-buried fears. Central to her past is a mysterious figure known as the Horned Man. From the moment she arrives, it’s clear that reopening old wounds was a mistake. Unsurprisingly, events spiral out of control almost right away. Lou vanishes without a trace, and their actions unleash a powerful, ancient force that begins hunting everything in the surrounding valley.
The things Elena once dismissed as nightmares quickly prove to be horrifyingly true. Twisted creatures, restless spirits, fanatical cult members, and unnatural monstrosities roam freely, turning her past fears into present dangers. From the very beginning, the game establishes its sense of mystery and tension, making it clear that you won’t be guided every step of the way. After a brief introduction, the restraints come off, and you’re left to navigate the world on your own, learning through trial, error, and the occasional mistakes.
At its core, I Hate This Place blends isometric action with survival mechanics and open-world exploration. Combat alone won’t carry you far. Staying alive requires careful planning, smart resource management, and constant awareness of your limitations. You’ll spend as much time scavenging and crafting as you do fighting, all while keeping an eye on stamina and positioning. What initially feels like a straightforward, story-focused experience gradually reveals itself to be far more open-ended, encouraging you to approach challenges in flexible and creative ways.
The game world is thoughtfully structured into varied regions, including wooded areas, flooded wetlands, open fields, hidden shelters, and the central ranch that functions as your headquarters. These locations aren’t just cosmetic changes; each introduces its own obstacles, enemy behaviors, and gameplay twists. Beyond the main objectives, every zone is layered with optional narratives and strange encounters. You might assist spirits in uncovering their final moments, stumble into bizarre cult rituals, untangle wrongful accusations, or cross paths with an unlikely priest-warrior who treats supernatural threats as target practice.
What truly brings the experience together is its storytelling and atmosphere. The fully voiced dialogue adds personality and depth to nearly every interaction, and even when performances vary, the overall effect is immersive. The writing balances horror with sharp wit and moments of genuine feeling, ensuring the world never feels hollow. No matter how quiet things may seem, there’s always another unsettling story waiting to be discovered.

While the game world isn’t enormous, it’s filled with meaningful paths and secrets. Certain locations remain inaccessible until you reach key story moments or acquire specific gear, guiding progression without making exploration feel restrictive. One of the most impactful systems is the shifting day-and-night cycle, which reshapes how you approach every outing. Daytime offers a relative sense of safety, making travel and scavenging more manageable. Once night falls, however, the environment turns hostile. Enemies grow more lethal, visibility drops, and even moving through the darkness becomes a gamble.
Elena begins her journey armed with little more than a simple bat, leaving her vulnerable in early encounters. As the story unfolds, she gradually gains access to more powerful tools, including handguns, submachine guns, shotguns, and explosive devices. Gunfights adopt a dual-stick shooting format that emphasizes tension rather than empowerment. Limited ammunition, lengthy reload times, and restrictive terrain ensure that every firefight feels dangerous. Poor positioning or a single missed reload can quickly spiral into disaster, especially when narrow corridors and dense foliage cut off escape routes.
More often than not, confrontation is something you’re better off avoiding. Stealth plays a central role, rewarding those who move cautiously and observe enemy behavior. Every action produces noise, and even small mistakes can have serious consequences. Tossing an object to redirect attention or slipping past a patrol unnoticed can mean the difference between survival and failure. Enemies are unforgiving, stamina is limited, and careless aggression is rarely rewarded. The punishment for dying is severe, with infrequent checkpoints and long stretches between saves. Progress can only be secured in designated safe zones equipped with basic facilities.
Audio design is woven directly into the game’s mechanics. Many hostile creatures rely almost entirely on sound to track their prey, turning every movement into a strategic decision. Footsteps, weapon fire, and environmental noise all broadcast your presence. Even the terrain matters: soft grass allows for quiet movement, while debris and shattered glass can betray you instantly. What makes this system especially unique is its visual translation into color-coded effects inspired by comic art, allowing you to “see” sound in real time. Both allies and enemies operate within this framework, transforming noise into a readable and manipulable system.

Before I move to the end, the ranch itself deserves special mention. It’s your home, your safe space, and your crafting hub. You can talk to your uncle to piece together the larger mysteries of the area, build structures that generate resources, craft weapons and supplies, and generally prepare for whatever nightmare you’re about to walk into next. The base-building system is well implemented, though it does have one notable flaw: it’s a little too easy to exploit. If you invest heavily in exploration and construction, you can stockpile massive amounts of supplies, making later sections significantly easier. Walking into dangerous areas with dozens of medkits, hundreds of bullets, and piles of explosives can trivialize some of the survival tension.
Also, expect around 10–12 hours for the main story, more if you complete side quests and explore thoroughly. That might sound short, but the pacing is excellent. Yes, there are plenty of rough edges. Triggers for specific voice lines felt off, often reacting to something offscreen that I couldn’t see. Lots of bugs, such as occasional awkward cutscene staging, enemies clipping and bugging out completely, plus you’re getting hungry way too often which is ridiculous.
In the end, it’s important to approach I Hate This Place with the understanding that it doesn’t aim for seriousness. Its survival mechanics are well-implemented, the sound-based stealth system feels unique, and the game trusts players to learn through experience rather than constant instruction. At the same time, it never becomes overwhelmingly challenging. Most enemies are manageable, and even reckless exploration, like sprinting through dark areas, rarely leads to major consequences.
While the game offers a generous amount of freedom, it doesn’t pressure you into rushing through its content. You’re encouraged to move at your own pace, experiment, and make mistakes without harsh penalties. It isn’t without minor issues, such as occasional performance drops in certain locations, but these problems never seriously undermine the experience. I Hate This Place doesn’t try to reinvent the genre or introduce groundbreaking ideas. Instead, it focuses on delivering enjoyable horror adventure with its own distinct character. It may not be revolutionary, but it’s confident in what it is.
Review copy provided by the publisher