Steam’s early rejection of Santa Ragione’s new art horror game, Horses, has cast a shadow over its intriguing qualities. The controversy surrounding the ban, coupled with Valve’s refusal to clarify the reasons behind it or permit an updated submission, has diverted attention from the game’s artistic merits. While Horses succeeds in provoking thought and discomfort, it ultimately falls short of fully realizing its potential as an interactive experience. The game is visually striking and thematically cohesive, attempting to tackle subjects often reserved for film, yet it struggles to engage players in a manner that enhances its core message.
The horses are people, if you hadn’t noticed yet
Valve’s guidelines prohibit content designed to “shock or disgust.” The crux of the issue lies not in whether Horses contains unsettling material—it certainly does—but in whether a digital storefront should censor such expressions. Art’s purpose is to elicit emotion, and Horses undeniably achieves this goal. The game is an itch-inducing piece of art that keeps players on edge from the outset, compelling them to grapple with its discomfort long after the experience concludes. Engaging with it is challenging; like many impactful works, it demands that players endure its unpleasantness to uncover its deeper significance.
With Valve’s vague rules, it seems that Horses merely needed to provoke discomfort among those behind the corporate curtain to face a ban—a testament to its artistic achievement. The game is designed to unsettle, creating an experience that is both jarring and thought-provoking.
Keeping a routine
Where Horses shines most brightly is in its exploration of routine, yet it falters in execution. Frequently likened to Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom, Pasolini’s controversial film, Horses resonates more closely with Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. The latter immerses viewers in the monotonous daily life of its protagonist, only to disrupt it with shocking violence. In Horses, players follow Anselmo through his daily chores at the farm, a routine that becomes increasingly fraught with tension as the farmer’s warnings loom large.
As players navigate Anselmo’s day, they are reminded of the importance of completing tasks correctly. The threat of upsetting the farmer instills a sense of dread, making the mundane chores feel significant. However, the game soon abandons this routine, losing a crucial aspect of what makes it a game rather than a different form of storytelling. The active participation required in playing contrasts sharply with the passive experience of watching a film, and the repetition that fosters comfort is quickly discarded.
The rapid pacing and linear progression in the latter half of Horses suggest a hesitance to bore players, which feels at odds with its art-house influences. In a medium where player engagement is often prioritized, Horses leads players through a series of discomforting events without allowing them the space to process or reflect. This lack of breathing room undermines the potential impact of its unsettling narrative.
Powering through
Watching an uncomfortable film involves a conscious decision to endure the experience, engaging not only with the content but also with one’s internal reactions to it. Horses adeptly navigates themes of shock and disgust but shies away from the potential for boredom, which can be a powerful tool in art. By not allowing players time to reflect, the game seems uncertain about its ability to resonate over time. The second half showcases some of the game’s most striking imagery, yet it feels more like a series of events happening to the player rather than an experience being actively shaped by them.
The controversy surrounding Horses and its subsequent ban has sparked essential discussions about how the gaming industry handles controversial topics. This dialogue is crucial as it shapes the future of what themes are permissible in games and how they can be explored. Despite its shortcomings, Horses represents a genuine effort to delve into the realms that film and literature often occupy, and it deserves recognition beyond the discomfort it has caused within the gaming community.
