Meow

Meow starts with the most basic responsibility — feeding a cat — but the atmosphere surrounding this task makes it feel strange from the very beginning. The house is quiet, almost too quiet, and every step the player takes echoes through empty rooms. Simple objects like a food bowl or refrigerator take on an unusual weight, as if they don’t fully belong. The cat itself, usually a comforting presence, stares a little too long or moves a little too slowly, making even the most ordinary moments feel uneasy.

Visual Simplicity That Adds to the Fear

The retro PSX-style graphics do more than give Meow a nostalgic look — they actively contribute to the discomfort. Walls feel flat, furniture is blocky, and low-resolution textures leave just enough detail to make players second-guess what they’re seeing. Lighting is harsh in some rooms and too dim in others, making the house feel uneven and unnatural. The VHS-like grain covering the screen constantly reminds players that they’re seeing the world through a distorted lens, adding to the sense that something is wrong.

Isolation with Hidden Tension

What sets Meow apart from typical horror games is how quietly it builds fear. There’s no clear threat at first, only the sense that something is slightly off. As players complete tasks, they may notice subtle shifts — a door slightly open when it was closed before, or an object not quite where it was left. These changes aren’t explained, leaving players to wonder whether they missed something or if the house itself is reacting to their presence. This slow, quiet unraveling of reality turns feeding a cat into something far more disturbing.