Vlad Circus Is A Pixelated Nightmare I Couldn't Wake Up From
In a world of high-fidelity horror, Vlad Circus proves you don't need photorealistic graphics to be deeply, deeply unsettling. You just need pixels, dread, and a whole lot of aspirin.
This game doesn't fuck around. It starts with my own execution. I'm strapped to an electric chair, the switch is flipped, and my world goes dark. Then I wake up under a sheet, my face a mess of burn scars, my memory a total blank, and my voice gone.
I'm Josef Petrescu, and I'm trapped in some kind of demented torture house run by religious fanatics trying to exorcise a demon named Asmodeus from its victims. My only goal is to escape, and my only path forward is to piece together what the hell happened in the 72 hours leading up to the circus fire I was apparently blamed for.
A Tale of Two Timelines
The story unfolds across two timelines. In the present, I’m a mute, disfigured wreck stumbling through a decaying hellhole, trying to survive. The atmosphere here is thick enough to choke on, a claustrophobic nightmare of pain and misery.
Whenever I find a mirror, I'm thrown back into the past, playing as Josef just days before the disaster. Here, he’s a desperate alcoholic searching for his estranged brother, the ringmaster of the infamous Vlad Circus. These sections feel more like a traditional adventure game. I'm exploring the town of San Reno, distracting train guards, and talking to a cast of wonderfully weird characters. The game forces you down a linear path, but it works, slowly feeding you clues that recontextualize the horrors of the present.
Dread by a Thousand Pixels
The real star of Vlad Circus is its atmosphere. The game completely rejects modern horror's reliance on jump scares and gruesome spectacle. Instead, it builds tension through a masterful blend of mystery, anticipation, and psychological dread.
The slick, pixel-art style is complemented by incredible sound design and dynamic lighting, creating a world that feels genuinely oppressive. This is absolutely a "lights off, headphones on" kind of game. The horror here is grounded and human; it’s about suffering, moral failure, and the consequences of one man's choices.
Classic Puzzles, Modern Dread
At its core, Vlad Circus is a pretty standard adventure game. You walk around, you pick up everything that isn't nailed down, and you try to use your collection of junk to solve environmental puzzles. The puzzles themselves are solid, offering a decent mix of "Aha!" moments and genuine head-scratchers without ever becoming frustratingly obtuse.
There are some minor action bits, like simple quick-time events and the therapeutic act of stomping on rats, but they're just there to break up the pacing. The game knows its greatest strength is its atmosphere, and it smartly lets the gameplay serve that atmosphere, rather than the other way around.
Minor Scuffs on the Funhouse Mirror
The game isn't perfect, but its flaws are minor scuffs on an otherwise compelling experience. Some of the dialogue feels a bit awkward, likely a quirk of the translation. And some of the survival mechanics, like taking damage from rats or glass shards only to be patched up by a single aspirin, feel a little silly in an otherwise gritty world.
These are small issues, but they do make you blink when you realize the game is asking for the same price as fucking Silksong. Still, for a horror experience this well-crafted, it’s a price I was willing to pay.
The Verdict
Vlad Circus: Curse of Asmodeus is a masterclass in atmospheric horror. It doesn't need to innovate on the adventure genre because it pours all its energy into creating an oppressive, dread-filled world that is utterly captivating.
The story is a compelling mystery that pulled me through to its fantastic, dramatic conclusion. The game’s minor flaws are easily forgiven in the face of such expertly crafted tension. For fans of psychological horror that gets under your skin and stays there, Vlad Circus is an absolute must-play.
Score: 8.2/10 A masterclass in pixelated dread that proves atmosphere is king.