Heartworm is a haunting echo of PS1 survival horror that almost finds its voice.
Heartworm stands apart in the crowded field of retro-inspired horror by boldly doubling down on a gritty, vintage look that is reminiscent of the early PS1 era rather than by pursuing contemporary polish or gaudy gimmicks. Heartworm, which was created by Vincent Adinolfi, gained notoriety for its eerie tone and gloomy atmosphere when it was included in the inaugural Haunted PS1 Demo Disc in 2020.
From that point on, it developed into a slow-burning passion project that would encounter many challenges before being fully released. Delays in development, changes in the game’s artistic direction, and even a concerning publisher drop-out in 2023 cast doubt on the game’s future.
Thankfully, independent horror publisher DreadXP intervened and assisted the game in getting back on track. Heartworm is now available for purchase on PC, completely playable, and thematically complete.
The end result is a survival horror experience that is both highly atmospheric and imaginatively ambitious. It unabashedly honors works such as Resident Evil and Silent Hill in terms of tone, style, and underlying themes, in addition to mechanics.
Even if the storytelling doesn’t always land, it also interweaves a personal narrative based on trauma, loss, and memory in Heartworm. Even while not everything in the game fits together perfectly, there are many aspects that will appeal to those who enjoy the eerie atmosphere of classic horror. It’s a game with big concepts and a clear love for the genre.
You play the part of Sam, a young lady who is having a hard time dealing with her grandfather’s sudden passing. She is obviously traumatized, suffering from PTSD symptoms and unresolved grief.
She starts the game by looking through obscure message boards in an attempt to find purpose or perhaps just something to cling to. She discovers reports about a mystery mansion hidden in the woods that is believed to have a connection to the afterlife, or more poetically, “the void beyond the void,” through these internet rabbit holes.
Desperate and intrigued, Sam makes the decision to explore the house on her own in the hopes of finding answers or perhaps a way to relieve the burden she is bearing.
As soon as you go inside the house, reality starts to change. The archives, a distorted, moving center that serves as Heartworm‘s focal point, are the dreamy liminal region into which Sam is soon drawn.
Three primary memory zones emerge from this strange region, each of which symbolizes a distinct emotional remembrance of Sam’s life. Things don’t quite get as deep into Sam’s inner life as the premise implies.
Her past is mentioned in passing in Heartworm—time spent with family, fleeting glimpses of her time at work or school—but these details are rarely developed in a significant way. Rather than feeling like emotional underpinnings, they feel more like superficial brushstrokes. The story doesn’t lack ideas; it just never fully embraces them.
If you seek them, scattered notes and bits of environmental storytelling give things more depth, but even so, Sam’s emotional journey frequently feels marginalized. She seems to be hardly the main character in her own story at times. Heartworm‘s potential emotional impact is undermined by that disconnect.
Important insights are revealed by implication rather than outright statement, favoring a mysterious tone that isn’t always effective. Heartworm rarely gives you enough to cling to, but you’ll get the feeling that something more profound is happening. Because of this, what ought to be a personal examination of loss and remembrance occasionally comes off as ambiguous or remote.
Heartworm‘s mechanics are heavily based on the traditions of traditional survival horror. The key is that it doesn’t attempt to reinvent the wheel. It features fixed camera angles, tank-style controls, progression that is centered around puzzles, and slow, methodical exploration.
Most of your time will be spent traveling interconnecting landscapes, figuring out various logic problems, gathering tools or keys, and occasionally keeping track of your inventory. Depending on how the space is set up, the camera design can be either obstructive or stylish, adding to the vintage vibe. Although it’s not always obvious what you’re getting into, this is all part of the atmosphere the game is trying to create.
You may access all three of Heartworm‘s memory levels from the archive hub, which acts as your base of operations. The visual identity and problem logic of each location are unique, but strangely, only two of them feature boss confrontations. The third space feels a touch lackluster as a result of that design decision.
Nevertheless, the map system is useful and effectively reduces aimless roaming. Backtracking is still a significant aspect of the game, but it is less frustrating because cleared rooms are clearly marked. That could be a fun challenge or a tiresome task, depending on how well-versed you are in the genre.
Heartworm‘s complex design of is one of its true advantages. The majority of the puzzles use logical inference, item combinations, or pattern recognition. You may need to identify and combine the appropriate elements to make progress, or you may need to see a sequence in one place and duplicate it in another.
The riddles feel gratifying since they are constant, even though they aren’t very complicated. The reasoning usually holds up well, and they don’t rely on trial-and-error or cheap tactics. Although you won’t need a notepad, you should take your time and be aware of your surroundings.
Things get shakier in combat. Sam is equipped with a camera, which works similarly to the spiritual repellent in Fatal Frame, in place of firearms or other melee weapons. You can switch to first-person mode by raising the camera when adversaries emerge, then take damage-dealing bullets.
On paper, it’s a clever mechanism, and the transition from third to first person is seamless, but it doesn’t offer much strategy or variation. Most interactions feel the same. When enemies show up, you take a few pictures of them, they disappear, and you continue. Particularly as the game goes on and combat starts to feel more like a barrier than a feature, there isn’t much danger.
Particularly, the early game specters created from TV static, certain rival designs are eerie. The first time you see them, their warped shapes and glitchy sound effects are very unsettling. Unfortunately, though, that initial impact fades soon. The threat level drastically decreases as the game progresses, and the variety of enemies reaches a plateau.
The camera’s ammunition runs out, but rather than making the action more intense, it simply encourages you to stay out of conflict completely. The most affected by this issue are boss bouts.
They usually include a repeating cycle of stun, wait, stun again, and are visually appealing but mechanically boring. Unfortunately, considering how much opportunity there was to connect the bosses to Sam’s emotional journey, none of them feel narratively significant.
Heartworm shun standard RPG progression features like level-ups and XP grinding. Rather, advancement occurs via exploration—discovering new locations, obtaining valuable objects, and discovering secrets.
The collection of hidden photos strewn around the game’s main locations is one intriguing feature. These images affect the conclusion you get, which encourages more in-depth investigation. Bonus costumes for Sam are also unlocked upon finishing the game, which gives you a good excuse to play it again or perhaps a third time.
Heartworm‘s images perfectly capture the look of vintage horror. Though the latter is by far the most evocative, the game supports both modern and retro display settings. The use of VHS-style filters, polygonal character models, and purposefully grainy textures all contribute to the impression of digital deterioration.
The dreamlike atmosphere is further enhanced by the surrealist architecture and twisted interiors seen throughout the settings. The visual direction is bold and purposeful; however, occasionally the camera pulls back too much, making it hard to see Sam clearly.
Heartworm‘s effectiveness is greatly influenced by audio. Low drones and delicate melodies that contribute to the mood-setting are prevalent in the soundtrack, which mostly focuses on ambient tones.
Every space has a unique soundscape, and the audio design consistently evokes a feeling of anxiety. Just as crucial are enemy noises, which include eerie screams and distorted speech that will make you uneasy, particularly in the early hours. Although the music isn’t always memorable, it serves a purpose, is efficient, and unifies the entire experience.
Fans of Silent Hill or the original Resident Evil games will relate to the fixed cameras, challenging puzzles, and stifling atmosphere. However, Heartworm falters in a few crucial areas in spite of its advantages. The narrative seems undeveloped. There is no thrill in combat. Additionally, a number of mechanics believe they never fully get up to their full potential.
Nevertheless, the atmosphere of the game has an indisputable allure. The ambiance it creates is what makes it memorable, not the spectacular action or unexpected turns. It’s slow, unsettling, and often annoying, but it’s also incredibly real.
Though underutilized, the main mechanic—fighting foes with a camera—is inspired. The images are always powerful. They’re brilliant puzzles. Additionally, the playtime is just brief enough to promote replay without seeming tedious.
