I've faced plenty of horrors in games, but Big Walk hits differently

Sam Comrie

Updated:Oct 27, 2026

Big Walk 

The crickets chirp steadily, signaling that night is almost here. We gaze out across the wilderness, with nothing but our wits and a map with the vaguest landmarks. Together, we're handling whatever Big Walk throws at us as a unit, with a few arguments for good measure. But traveling across the outback is unpredictable, and that's when the fear starts to set in. You see, there's something sinister out there.

It isn't anything you'd find in a typical horror game. No supernatural entities, no villainous NPCs. It's far worse than that because it's the most powerful enemy anyone can face: feelings. Big Walk is an amazing game from House House, a sensational mix of innovative puzzles and trust that lets you follow your gut. There's a resolute commitment to leaving you to your own devices. Eventually, you'll have a lightbulb moment, and the rest is history.

Underpinning that is Big Walk's steadfast approach to reinforcing the relationships it cultivates. You're likely playing the new Switch game with a group of your closest friends, sometimes up to 12. Every good, real friendship has flashes of dopamine-inducing interactions, from in-jokes to casual catch-ups. But there's also bickering and light arguments, often over the silliest of things. In our case, it's often our takes on movies. It all fuels the juice of Big Walk's collective puzzle-solving, but House House has another trick up its sleeve.

Beyond the game's core of solving increasingly complex obstacles to reach some sort of emotional nirvana, it's secretly a survival game. That's where those 'feelings' come into play. As night takes over and darkness consumes everything, it's easy to lose track of your group. You won't always have a torch, a laser, or an annoying instrument to call for their attention. Instead, you're left with nothing but flailing arms and your voice echoing out into the beyond.

Moments ago, we'd been laughing and booting giant lamps around. What could go wrong, right? Naturally, one of those lamps goes missing, and we're split up. This isn't darkness like any other game. It's pitch black, with shadows coating everything in inky black that threatens to wrap you inside it. Panic sets in within minutes, followed by a mild tingle of frustration as you struggle to find your way back to salvation. No quick fixes, no instant respawns, and no fast travel points. I'm on my own with nothing but the sounds of nature.

It just gives you time to think and reflect. I become less focused on a source of light or recognizable structure. I'm thinking about the importance of communication. It's probably one of the luxuries we take most for granted: the simple ability to interact with others. After hours of experiencing this at its peak during Big Walk, I'm suddenly stripped of its warm embrace. I'm alone, and that's a horror most people fear.

But as Robert De Niro said in Michael Mann's Heat, "I'm alone, I am not lonely." For all its whimsy, Big Walk is as much about cherishing your friends as about pressing buttons on a wacky puzzle. Some of them aren't even puzzles in the traditional sense. House House just wants you to vibe and appreciate what you've got. That might mean sitting on a couch, listening to music, and having a quick five-minute chat. Out there in the darkness, I know I'll get back to that comfort.

And that's why I keep coming back to Big Walk. Not for the puzzles, or the ridiculous contraptions we stumble across, but for the people I get to experience them with. Being lost in the dark is one thing; being lost in the dark while your mates argue about which direction to go is another entirely. I'll take the latter every time.