It's clear from the very start that Thomasina Bateman's curiosity is leading nowhere good. Her mission to dig out a long-sealed barrow, whose last excavation years ago caused multiple deaths and more broken lives, is so obviously a terrible idea. Of course, few things are as frightful or as compelling as an obviously bad idea followed through.
The dread of The Excavation of Hob's Barrow is thick, tangible, it seeps through the greys and browns of every corner in Bewley. The small Yorkshire settlement exists underneath a perpetually overcast sky, with residents as drab to match. It's an unpleasant and hardly inviting place, but also richly realised. Like Thomasina, you can't help but be intrigued by the locals, and the game does an admirable job to play with expectations of who is actually to be trusted, and who are what they claim to be.
It speaks both to the excellent writing and acting that Thomasina remains likeable despite repeatedly handwaving away red flags at every turn. She is not unlike James Sunderland in Silent Hill 2 in that regard. As a player, we're not taking the role of Thomasina so much as we are her drive, her need to go into the darkest depths even though nothing good can come of it.
And nothing does. Hob's Barrow takes its time to get to the horror but the oppressive atmosphere never relents. At key moments, the game will break from the usual point-and-click perspective to play out especially gruesome or revolting scenes with animations that have a sickening fluidity. These moments cut through the sombre unpleasantness and reminds you that something truly wrong is about to happen, and you're about to be the one to make it real.
As with many horror stories that focus on atmosphere and bad vibes, Hob's Barrow can feel narratively slight. The story is peppered with red herrings and dead ends, which make the resolution feel somewhat underwhelming. The end of Thomasina's story is nonetheless as gruesome as it was inevitable. She just couldn't leave well enough alone, but then again, neither could I.
The dread of The Excavation of Hob's Barrow is thick, tangible, it seeps through the greys and browns of every corner in Bewley. The small Yorkshire settlement exists underneath a perpetually overcast sky, with residents as drab to match. It's an unpleasant and hardly inviting place, but also richly realised. Like Thomasina, you can't help but be intrigued by the locals, and the game does an admirable job to play with expectations of who is actually to be trusted, and who are what they claim to be.
It speaks both to the excellent writing and acting that Thomasina remains likeable despite repeatedly handwaving away red flags at every turn. She is not unlike James Sunderland in Silent Hill 2 in that regard. As a player, we're not taking the role of Thomasina so much as we are her drive, her need to go into the darkest depths even though nothing good can come of it.
And nothing does. Hob's Barrow takes its time to get to the horror but the oppressive atmosphere never relents. At key moments, the game will break from the usual point-and-click perspective to play out especially gruesome or revolting scenes with animations that have a sickening fluidity. These moments cut through the sombre unpleasantness and reminds you that something truly wrong is about to happen, and you're about to be the one to make it real.
As with many horror stories that focus on atmosphere and bad vibes, Hob's Barrow can feel narratively slight. The story is peppered with red herrings and dead ends, which make the resolution feel somewhat underwhelming. The end of Thomasina's story is nonetheless as gruesome as it was inevitable. She just couldn't leave well enough alone, but then again, neither could I.