The cult classic returns, re-imagined
By Paul Hunter
Luto isn’t the kind of horror game that throws monsters at you every five minutes. Instead, it digs into something more personal. Developed by Broken Bird Games and published by Selecta Play in partnership with Astrolabe Games, it launches on July 22, 2025, for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, Steam, and the Epic Games Store.
It’s a first-person psychological horror experience that chooses grief as its main focus. Rather than taking you through combat-heavy scenes, it places you inside surreal environments, asks you to solve puzzles, and lets its spaces carry much of the story. The result is an approach that feels deliberate, sometimes unsettling, and certainly different from a typical scare-fest.
Luto will have obvious comparisons to P.T. because of its similar perspective and its method of building tension. Yet it doesn’t simply repeat what Kojima's game did—it builds its own identity through symbolic design and emotionally driven world-building. Each area shifts not just to surprise you but to reflect the larger themes at play.
With its bold and emotionally charged gameplay, Luto stands out as a horror experience that prioritises psychological impact over immediate scares. But does that translate into an experience worth your time in the dark? Let’s find out!
Luto tells the story of Samuel, a man on the verge of leaving his home yet unable to take the necessary step. The reason is not external but internal: grief has left him stuck, and that emotional weight shapes the world around him.
At first, Samuel’s surroundings seem ordinary, but his inability to act causes them to shift. Rooms loop unexpectedly, hallways lead back to themselves, and objects carry a weight that feels far heavier than their appearance suggests. Each area becomes a reflection of a mind caught between avoidance and memory.
A narrator appears early in the experience, its voice confident yet tinged with something harder to define. It sounds amused at times, almost as if it’s watching from above, but as events progress its purpose becomes less clear. The narrator doesn’t simply explain; it unsettles, pushes, and occasionally misleads, making you question its role in Samuel’s descent.
The story itself avoids linear exposition. Instead, you gather fragments by examining environments closely. Notes, symbols, and sudden spatial changes work as quiet storytellers, revealing hints without ever delivering direct answers.
Themes of denial, emotional paralysis, and repeating cycles dominate Samuel’s journey. Luto’s narrative doesn’t aim to be easily resolved, instead leaving space for interpretation. You’re encouraged to notice the small details and reconsider earlier moments, as repeated visits to familar rooms reveal new connections and subtle variations that deepen your understanding.
Luto doesn’t rush you. You walk through a house that seems determined to confuse you. Hallways bend back, doors vanish, and the place never feels the same twice.
There’s no combat. Instead, you’re figuring out where to go next by paying attention to what the environment is trying to tell you. Maybe it’s a noise in another room, maybe it’s something out of place on a wall.
Puzzle integration is subtle rather than overt, which makes them feel more natural. You’ll be wandering, think you’re stuck, then realise you missed a tiny clue. That’s exactly what happened when I kept looping the same hallway until I noticed one picture frame that didn’t match the others. Touching it finally let me move on.
The narrator’s voice adds to that tension. Sometimes it sounds helpful. Other times, it makes you wonder if trusting it is a mistake.
Luto makes you slow down. It rewards patience, listening carefully, and looking at rooms more than once. Even when you think you know a space, something small might have changed.
Luto takes advantage of Unreal Engine 5 to achieve photorealistic visuals that make its environments feel lifelike. This level of realism doesn’t simply serve as decoration—it draws you in completely, amplifying each scare because everything around you appears real.
The house you wander around in feels lived in and real, filled with common objects—chairs, framed photos, and scattered belongings—that ground you in the familiar. When something changes, it’s subtle but disturbing.
Lighting controls much of the mood. Dark corners, faint illumination, and long shadows guide your eyes without revealing everything. Narrow corridors tighten that sense of pressure, turning simple movement into something that feels like a risk.
Audio work follows the same philosophy. There’s no constant score. Instead, the experience leans on silence, punctuated by noises that seem out of place. A floorboard creaks where no one should be walking. A whisper brushes past your ear but never resolves into words. In a space like this, that tone doesn’t soothe—it unsettles.
There’s no interface to break the illusion. The absence of HUD elements means your eyes stay on the environment, where every flicker and every sound has meaning. Luto never shouts to scare you; it whispers, and you lean in because you can’t help it.
Final Score: 8.5/10 - Great
Developer: Broken Bird Games
Publisher: Broken Bird Games, Selecta Play, Astrolabe Games
Genre: Horror
Modes: Single-player
A key was provided by the publisher.
By Paul Hunter
Luto isn’t the kind of horror game that throws monsters at you every five minutes. Instead, it digs into something more personal. Developed by Broken Bird Games and published by Selecta Play in partnership with Astrolabe Games, it launches on July 22, 2025, for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, Steam, and the Epic Games Store.
It’s a first-person psychological horror experience that chooses grief as its main focus. Rather than taking you through combat-heavy scenes, it places you inside surreal environments, asks you to solve puzzles, and lets its spaces carry much of the story. The result is an approach that feels deliberate, sometimes unsettling, and certainly different from a typical scare-fest.
Luto will have obvious comparisons to P.T. because of its similar perspective and its method of building tension. Yet it doesn’t simply repeat what Kojima's game did—it builds its own identity through symbolic design and emotionally driven world-building. Each area shifts not just to surprise you but to reflect the larger themes at play.
With its bold and emotionally charged gameplay, Luto stands out as a horror experience that prioritises psychological impact over immediate scares. But does that translate into an experience worth your time in the dark? Let’s find out!
Luto tells the story of Samuel, a man on the verge of leaving his home yet unable to take the necessary step. The reason is not external but internal: grief has left him stuck, and that emotional weight shapes the world around him.
At first, Samuel’s surroundings seem ordinary, but his inability to act causes them to shift. Rooms loop unexpectedly, hallways lead back to themselves, and objects carry a weight that feels far heavier than their appearance suggests. Each area becomes a reflection of a mind caught between avoidance and memory.
A narrator appears early in the experience, its voice confident yet tinged with something harder to define. It sounds amused at times, almost as if it’s watching from above, but as events progress its purpose becomes less clear. The narrator doesn’t simply explain; it unsettles, pushes, and occasionally misleads, making you question its role in Samuel’s descent.
The story itself avoids linear exposition. Instead, you gather fragments by examining environments closely. Notes, symbols, and sudden spatial changes work as quiet storytellers, revealing hints without ever delivering direct answers.
Themes of denial, emotional paralysis, and repeating cycles dominate Samuel’s journey. Luto’s narrative doesn’t aim to be easily resolved, instead leaving space for interpretation. You’re encouraged to notice the small details and reconsider earlier moments, as repeated visits to familar rooms reveal new connections and subtle variations that deepen your understanding.
Luto doesn’t rush you. You walk through a house that seems determined to confuse you. Hallways bend back, doors vanish, and the place never feels the same twice.
There’s no combat. Instead, you’re figuring out where to go next by paying attention to what the environment is trying to tell you. Maybe it’s a noise in another room, maybe it’s something out of place on a wall.
Puzzle integration is subtle rather than overt, which makes them feel more natural. You’ll be wandering, think you’re stuck, then realise you missed a tiny clue. That’s exactly what happened when I kept looping the same hallway until I noticed one picture frame that didn’t match the others. Touching it finally let me move on.
The narrator’s voice adds to that tension. Sometimes it sounds helpful. Other times, it makes you wonder if trusting it is a mistake.
Luto makes you slow down. It rewards patience, listening carefully, and looking at rooms more than once. Even when you think you know a space, something small might have changed.
Luto takes advantage of Unreal Engine 5 to achieve photorealistic visuals that make its environments feel lifelike. This level of realism doesn’t simply serve as decoration—it draws you in completely, amplifying each scare because everything around you appears real.
The house you wander around in feels lived in and real, filled with common objects—chairs, framed photos, and scattered belongings—that ground you in the familiar. When something changes, it’s subtle but disturbing.
Lighting controls much of the mood. Dark corners, faint illumination, and long shadows guide your eyes without revealing everything. Narrow corridors tighten that sense of pressure, turning simple movement into something that feels like a risk.
Audio work follows the same philosophy. There’s no constant score. Instead, the experience leans on silence, punctuated by noises that seem out of place. A floorboard creaks where no one should be walking. A whisper brushes past your ear but never resolves into words. In a space like this, that tone doesn’t soothe—it unsettles.
There’s no interface to break the illusion. The absence of HUD elements means your eyes stay on the environment, where every flicker and every sound has meaning. Luto never shouts to scare you; it whispers, and you lean in because you can’t help it.
The Verdict
Luto chooses to slow horror down, letting its world do most of the work. You move through rooms that seem almost real, solving puzzles that exist to propel the story rather than test your gaming skills. The visuals and audio combine to create unease in simple, precise ways: a shadow, a creak, silence when you least expect it. It doesn’t chase you with fast scares, but its mood lingers. If you’re looking for a game that values atmosphere and lasting tension over immediate shocks, Luto delivers.Final Score: 8.5/10 - Great
Luto details
Platform: PS5, Xbox Series X|S, PCDeveloper: Broken Bird Games
Publisher: Broken Bird Games, Selecta Play, Astrolabe Games
Genre: Horror
Modes: Single-player
A key was provided by the publisher.