Until Dawn™

Each in the currency that store quoted — not converted: the gap between two rows is the publisher's pricing, not an exchange rate.

14 of 15 markets; the rest we haven't asked for this title, not markets where it is unavailable.

14 on sale1 answered “not sold”0 we did not ask

The 1 “not sold” market is read from the Steam price pass of Aug 31: that day the store answered for this game elsewhere and gave no price there. The 14 priced markets are the same rows as the table above — each the latest price we hold, dated here when it is older than that pass. The 0 marked “not asked” were not put to this store at all — either it has no storefront there or we do not collect it yet, and neither is a statement about the game. A refusal is a refusal on one day; a store can list a title again tomorrow.

Matched by title — a reused name can pair the wrong games. * is a critic aggregate. Prices and positions are each store's United States storefront; Epic charts worldwide. Audience and Score too, except Steam's, which is worldwide.

Hours played at review time, across 955 reviews with recorded playtime.

positive critical· bar length = how often the theme comes up

Until Dawn — “It’s light horror,” I said, before destroying a couple’s gaming session On June 1st, my girlfriend and I decided to play Until Dawn. I warned her right away: “Babe, it’s horror, but it’s light horror.” That was probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told. The plan was simple: play for a bit, eat snacks, laugh at the jumpscares, and have a cute couple moment. We had Monster, 2 bags of chips, chocolate, a huge TV in the bedroom, everything dark, the speaker blasting at max volume, and only the light from the TV illuminating two people who still thought they were about to have a cute couple moment. The room looked ready for gaming. But in reality, it was ready to destroy her inner peace. Any tiny noise in the game and she already had her hand over her face, all curled up, peeking through her fingers, as if the monster respected the rule of “if I can’t see you, you can’t scare me.” With every jumpscare, she jumped off the bed. I looked at her and thought: “Calm down, babe, nothing even happened yet.” But for her, everything had already happened. The game loaded the main menu and she was already halfway through a trauma. At first, honestly, I thought the game was kind of dry. The choices felt bland, the interaction was low, and I was sitting there thinking: “So I bought a game to walk slowly, choose dry dialogue options, and watch teenagers make terrible decisions?” But the real experience wasn’t in the game. It was sitting next to me. We reached Chapter 3. And then it happened. The animal came out of the closet. At that moment, I saw a person abandon the war. She jumped, got completely scared, turned to the other side of the bed, curled up entirely, and stayed there offended, like: “Don’t talk to me. I trusted you. You said this was light horror.” I still tried to encourage her. I still tried to say it wasn’t that bad. I still tried to save our couple gameplay. But there was nothing left to save. Her body was still on the bed, but her soul had already gone to ask for a refund. From that point on, she stayed turned to the other side, completely curled up, clearly offended at the game, at me, at the closet, at the animal, and probably at the entire video game industry. So I continued alone. Not because I was brave. But because someone had to honor the Monster, the chips, the chocolate, and the money spent. And somehow, from Chapter 4 onward, the game actually started getting good. The story picked up, the horror started hitting better, and I finally stopped feeling like I was playing a dry-choice walking simulator with snow. I recommend Until Dawn. Not just for the game, but for the full experience. Is it horror? Yes. Is it fun? After Chapter 4, yes. Is it good to play as a couple? Yes, if you want to find out in which chapter your girlfriend abandons the mission and turns into a scared little croquette in the corner of the bed.