Reanimal review: the most beautiful horror game in years

19 hours ago 1

Published Feb 11, 2026, 11:01 AM EST

Horror game or arthouse cinema? Reanimal does both

The brother, sister, and three friends sitting on a beach in front of a light buoy in Reanimal.

Horror games have no business being this beautiful. No, scratch that; horror games have every business being this beautiful. During my 6+ hours in Reanimal, I've been eaten by seamonsters, stalked by spider-like villains, bullied by phantom children, and picked apart by birds, and I'd go through it all again just to have another look at what might be the most dazzling horror adventure I've ever played.

Imagine a child sitting alone in a small boat, surrounded by nothing but water, mist, and the sound of the waves. As you take control of this child, you steer the boat toward a faint red glow. It's a lighted buoy; perhaps it'll lead you to land. Suddenly, you spot a body floating in the water; it jumps at your throat, but once you've recovered from the jump scare (the first of many), you realize it's your still-living sister. Behind the two of you, steep cliffs emerge from the fog; an old forest and a creepy mansion lie behind them. It doesn't look like the sort of place any sane person would willingly enter, but you've no choice. At least you're no longer alone.

A child in a boat approaches a light buoy in Reanimal.

Although I got to play a Reanimal demo at Gamescom, I had not yet seen the magnificent opening sequence I just described. With its atmospheric lighting and sudden bout of fright, it forms the perfect introduction to Tarsier Studios' first game since Little Nightmares 2, which follows a brother and sister as they explore an exceedingly creepy island in search of their three missing friends. Besides setting the mood, the boat trip reveals Reanimal's secret recipe for greatness: It never does more than it should.

Reanimal's protagonists use a boat to approach a scary mansion.

Make no mistake; visually and narratively speaking, Reanimal is almost extravagant. While the puzzle platformer isn't long, it's fast-paced; within the span of a few hours, you'll outrun an army of deflated corpses, sneak through abandoned buildings, dodge explosives, get kidnapped, survive the war trenches, and battle aggressive seagulls. You'll also go boating, diving, and driving — usually in vehicles highly unsuitable for children. Every time I felt the first tinge of "I've been in this locale long enough now," an unexpected event would shake things up.

This narrative chaos is what kept me on the edge of my seat, because Reanimal's gameplay consists of exploration more than anything else. To me, exploring a world is only enjoyable as long as I can't wait to see what lies beyond the corner, and Reanimal never lets that flame die out. This also means I didn't miss the brain-racking challenges I, as a puzzle enthusiast, had initially hoped to encounter: There was but a single "standalone" puzzle that involved a hidden code and corresponding buttons (whereas most exploration hurdles ranged from "pull a hidden lever" to "find a key"), which allowed me to immerse myself in the eventful story without lengthy interruptions.

Two kids look upon a chasm with a large monster behind it in Reanimal.

Some of the gameplay moments that got my heart beating faster than the most intricate puzzle ever could include outrunning a haunted car, dodging gunfire, walking across a narrow chasm while tied to my in-game sister, sneaking past bosses, and shooting a particularly creepy seamonster. If that sounds like a lot of running, you're right; many encounters in Reanimal can only be survived by fleeing as fast as you can, but I was all the more surprised by the times I didn't need to run. Once I got my hands on a crowbar, a stack of needles, and a cannon, some of the nastiest fiends got exactly what they deserved.

Reanimal's minimalist controls — all of the above is done through movement, "interaction," and "use item" buttons alone — create little visual disturbance. Like the gameplay, they seem to be in service of the cinematic experience. There's no HUD, no more than a few tutorial lines pop up to explain the control system, and every door, hatch, lever, or item that can be interacted with is marked with nothing but a tiny white dot upon approach. Never will a large "press X" prompt defile your screen.

A house with a balcony and a doorway with an interaction dot in Reanimal.

This is incredibly important as, perhaps more than the brother and sister, Reanimal's true star is the camera. Rather than sticking with the same angle throughout the game, the "directed camera," as the developers call it, follows the children across the haunted islands; sometimes nearby, sometimes far away. But it's not just a matter of zooming in and out. When the kids walk into a tunnel, the camera follows them inside. When they enter a grand building, the camera takes position in a high corner. When they encounter a terrifying monster, the camera dives down to their point of view. The result? Nearly every second of Reanimal is screenshot-worthy. I'm not exaggerating; the angles and lighting are always perfectly positioned to get the most cinematic view.

Three children exit a cinema in Reanimal.

Since Reanimal's visuals do most of the storytelling, it was surprising to find that the characters are voiced, though it's no more than a few lines, or rather whispers, throughout the entire game. When brother and sister reunite in the opening sequence, for example, the brother says, "I thought you were dead." Some time later, while the kids are waiting at a bus stop, the silence is broken by a single question: "You know why we're here?" to which the only response is "No idea."

In Reanimal's case, voicing the characters is a dangerous balancing act. While hearing their thoughts underlines the children's humanity and vulnerability, I'm relieved the voice lines are used sparingly and only in the quieter moments. It would've been a horror (in the bad sense) to find them functioning as a way to explain emotions, narrate events, or instruct the player. A sense of loneliness and despair is more effectively induced through silence, whereas an emotional bond is shown far better through helpful actions and the occasional hug than through outward declarations of affection.

The brother and sister find their first friend in Reanimal, but he's stuck behind bars.

Luckily, the same wisdom is applied to Reanimal's soundtrack. Although monster attacks are accompanied by bombastic scores befitting the adrenaline kick, most of the time, all you hear are ambient sounds like creaking floors, footsteps, a groan in the distance, seagulls, and splashing waves. The utter silence imbues a feeling of desolation far more effectively than eerie music would.

Reanimal isn't the scariest or most challenging horror game I've played, but I'll crown it the most visually striking, and on top of that, one of my most memorable gaming experiences. I'm not sure how grateful I am to have been inflicted with claustrophobia, acrophobia, thalassophobia, automatonophobia, and a few other phobias, but the profound mixture of horror, awe, and sadness I felt by the end of this cinematographic masterpiece makes it worth the struggle. Let's hope Tarsier Studios preserves its minimalism in future projects — no need for voice acting and other such nonsense.

Reanimal will be released Feb. 13 on PlayStation 5, Windows PC, Xbox Series X, and Nintendo Switch 2. The game was reviewed on PC using a prerelease download code provided by THQ Nordic. You can find additional information about Polygon’s ethics policy here.

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