From its first fog-shrouded moments, Silent Hill f plunges you into a haunting landscape of dread and melancholia. I was absolutely hooked. The way the game weaves theme, setting and presentation is nothing short of mesmerising: a rural 1960s Japanese town consumed by fog, a young protagonist dealing with trauma and transformation, and an Otherworld that seeps into reality so gradually you don’t even notice the shift until you’re already deep in it. This is horror done right.

A theme Silent Hill is known for

The world is spectacular: the rural Japanese town, the creeping fog, the quiet interiors of houses haunted by more than ghosts, the Otherworld sequences that feel alien yet intimately connected to what came before. This is horror nails atmosphere, where tension builds gradually and the visuals and audio carry so much of the weight.

The theme at hand is one of identity, shame, growth, and the shift from innocence to something darker: you feel the weight of the past, the pressure of expectation, the things you are becoming. And the game presents that theme flawlessly, through broken relationships, oppressive domestic scenes, school corridors dripping with subtle dread, and the monstrous manifestations that feel less like “jump-scares” and more like extensions of the psyche. The atmosphere is nearly perfect: the fog, the distant echoes, the melancholy soundtrack and environmental queues all combine to create a single, unified sensation of being lost. Being watched.

Presentation-wise there’s a masterclass in mood. Every frame feels composed to evoke unease. The lighting, the sound design, the monster design, they all serve the tone. The game doesn’t just tell you you’re in a nightmare, it makes you feel it: the subtle ambiguities of the world, the haze of memory and fear, the way familiar spaces twist into unfamiliar dread. As a long-time horror fan, as well as someone who loves immersive, solitary exploration experiences, this is exactly the kind I wanted in time for Halloween

The good and the bad

At its core, Silent Hill f tells a deeply personal and haunting story set in 1960s rural Japan. You play as a young woman grappling with alienation, guilt, and the suffocating expectations of her community, all while a mysterious, almost floral plague begins consuming the town and its inhabitants in grotesquely beautiful ways. In classic Silent Hill fashion, the protagonist seems pretty chill about what’s going down. The narrative unfolds slowly, blending psychological horror with social commentary, and constantly blurring the line between the real and the surreal. Rather than relying on exposition, the story reveals itself through atmosphere, symbolism, and implication, leaving you piecing together meaning as much from what isn’t said as from what is. By the end of the first playthrough you will have your speculations with the final cutscene confirming your predictions. With the final cutscene done, you are ready for playthrough number 2, with 5 different endings and new story elements.

I however… found myself impeded by the combat. It’s one of those odd things: on paper, the system has all the ambitions of the best modern horror-action hybrids: there are perfect dodges, parries, a stamina or concentration system, weapons with weight and feel. In fact, the combat system reminds me a lot of the recent Silent Hill 2 Remake, but with perhaps more possibilities for perfect dodges or parries. Weapons are not simply stronger re-skins of the previous, they have different move sets on top their pros and cons.

And yet, I struggled to get a handle on it at all, and so instead I found myself brute-forcing or simply running past many encounters just to get on with the story. Perhaps I just didn’t invest enough time in mastering the timing or systems, but the disconnect between “this is a horror game where each fight should matter” and “I don’t want to fight this again” left me frustrated. But a lot of the frustration was because I knew the combat should be good and a perfect fit, for some reason it just wasn’t.

My conclusion

Overall, Silent Hill f is one of the more memorable horror games of late. The presentation; the visuals, the sound, the atmosphere is exceptional. I absolutely loved the theme and how it’s delivered through every layer of the game. The sense of dread, the uncanny familiarity of the town, the way memories twist. It’s horror that stays with you.

Factory-building games usually put you on alien worlds and tell you to industrialize them into oblivion. Little Rocket Lab, developed by Teenage Astronauts and published by No More Robots, takes a very different approach: it brings the factory home. Instead of sterile planets or harsh wastelands, you’re in the warm, human town of St. Ambroise, building machinery not just for efficiency’s sake, but to fulfil a family dream and restore a struggling community.

A relaxed story driven, factory builder

You play as Morgan, a young engineer returning to her hometown to continue her late parents’ dream of launching a rocket. The premise could have leaned purely sentimental, but the story is smartly interwoven with gameplay. Every new factory part or automation chain has a purpose tied to the town’s revival; helping locals, repairing structures, or producing materials for the rocket’s next stage.

It’s a refreshing blend of two genres: the logical tinkering of automation games and the small-town warmth of a life sim. If Factorio is about survival through efficiency and Satisfactory is about beauty through scale, Little Rocket Lab is about connection through creation.

The town of St. Ambroise is divided into distinct biomes: the coast, the railyard, the quarries, and underground sectors. Each comes with unique resources and challenges, gradually encouraging you to expand your network outward. There’s no fast travel, just the physical satisfaction of connecting distant workshops through conveyor lines and transport systems.

Meanwhile, interactions with the townsfolk give purpose to your construction. You’ll help the mechanic fix an old crane, assist the shopkeeper in restocking supplies, or upgrade utilities for everyone’s benefit. These tasks blend smoothly into the automation cycle, giving emotional context to your progress.

How does it differ?

Mechanically, Little Rocket Lab hits the core notes of any good automation sim. You start with hand-crafted materials, move to simple drills and furnaces, and eventually design complex systems with assemblers, cranes, and conveyor belts snaking across the map. Each zone, introduces new materials and logistical puzzles.

What makes the system satisfying is its balance between complexity and clarity. The UI and progression are smoother and more approachable than Factorio’s steep learning curve. Machines snap together logically, and you’re never overwhelmed by flowcharts of fluids and electricity. It’s the kind of game that invites you to tinker as opposed to optimising spreadsheets.

There’s also a tangible sense of scale: your little workshop grows into an interconnected network of automated production lines. The difference is, instead of feeling cold or mechanical, your factories breathe life back into a town. You’re not extracting from a dying planet, you’re rebuilding one.

My conclusion

Little Rocket Lab won’t replace titans of the genre for hardcore optimization fans, but it doesn’t need to. It fills a niche those games never tried to: automation as an act of care and restoration rather than domination.

If you love building systems but crave a quieter, more human context, something closer to Stardew Valley this is one of 2025’s most charming indie surprises.