There is a particular kind of horror that does not rely on monsters, shadows, or sudden shocks. It thrives instead on systems. On rules. On the quiet, suffocating sense that you are being watched, measured, and slowly reduced to a function within something larger than yourself. Inhuman Resources: A Literary Machination understands this instinctively.
Developed by Finnegan Motors and brought to consoles by Dolores Entertainment, this corporate horror interactive fiction experience arrives on PlayStation, Xbox, and Switch, its unsettling identity intact. It is not simply a narrative game with branching paths. It is a game about the illusion of choice, the weight of consequence, and the creeping dread of being trapped within a system that remembers everything.
“Inhuman Resources does not ask what you will choose. It asks how you will live with what you cannot undo.”
Welcome to Smyrnacorp
You begin as a new recruit at Smyrnacorp, an anachronistic corporation operating in a warped, post-truth reality. The premise is deliberately vague at first, offering just enough context to create unease.
The office is wrong. The systems are opaque. The expectations are unclear yet absolute.
From the outset, the game frames your role not as a hero or investigator, but as an employee. Your tasks involve hacking terminals, distorting video footage, manipulating data, and navigating internal systems that feel both archaic and disturbingly advanced.
This is where Inhuman Resources establishes its tone. The horror is not external. It is procedural.
The Locked Choice System
The defining mechanic of the game is its “locked choices” system. Every decision you make remains visible throughout your playthrough, but once selected, alternative options are permanently inaccessible.
This may sound simple, but its psychological effect is profound.
Instead of branching paths disappearing, they linger. You are constantly reminded of what you did not choose. Every decision becomes a point of tension, not only for what it leads to but also for what it closes off.
This creates a persistent sense of regret and uncertainty. Even as you progress, the game ensures you are always looking back.
It is one of the most effective uses of interactive fiction design in recent memory.
A Narrative Built on Fragmentation
The story unfolds through a blend of direct narrative, environmental storytelling, and interactive systems. Emails, files, distorted footage, and cryptic messages all contribute to a fragmented understanding of Smyrnacorp’s true nature.
Rather than presenting a clear arc, the game invites interpretation. Information is incomplete, sometimes contradictory, and often deliberately obscured.
This approach aligns with the game’s themes. In a post-truth world, certainty is elusive. Truth is not something you discover in full. It is something you piece together, often imperfectly.
The inclusion of short stories by a range of authors expands this further. These fragments feel like echoes of the same world, offering additional perspectives without fully resolving its mysteries.
Gameplay as Interaction, Not Action
Mechanically, Inhuman Resources sits somewhere between interactive fiction and a light puzzle game. You do not navigate physical spaces in the traditional sense. Instead, you interact with systems.
Hacking terminals involves pattern recognition and logic. Distorting footage requires timing and observation. Solving riddles demands attention to detail and lateral thinking.
These interactions are not overly complex, but they are effective. They reinforce the feeling that you are working within a system rather than exploring a world.
There is a deliberate lack of traditional gameplay feedback. Success does not always feel rewarding. Failure does not always feel final. Everything is filtered through the lens of corporate ambiguity.
RPG Elements and Progression
The game introduces light RPG mechanics through an employee profile system. Skills can be improved, items collected, and certain paths unlocked based on your capabilities.
This adds a layer of strategy to decision-making. Do you prioritise immediate survival or long-term access to hidden routes? Do you invest in skills that open new opportunities, or focus on navigating the current situation?
These systems are subtle yet meaningful. They provide structure without overwhelming the narrative focus.
Visual Identity and Atmosphere
Visually, Inhuman Resources is striking. It uses heavy shadows, inverted colours, and stark contrasts to evoke a sense of disorientation.
The interface itself feels unstable at times. Text flickers. Images distort. Colours shift unexpectedly.
This is not merely aesthetic. It reinforces the idea that the system you are interacting with is unreliable, possibly even hostile.
There is a constant sense that something is amiss beneath the surface, even when nothing overtly threatening is happening.
Sound design complements this approach. Ambient noise, distorted audio, and subtle tonal shifts create an atmosphere of unease that rarely lets up.
The Horror of Routine
What makes Inhuman Resources particularly effective is its ability to transform mundane tasks into sources of tension.
Checking emails becomes an act of discovery. Completing assignments feels like complicity. Interacting with colleagues brings uncertainty rather than comfort.
The game understands that horror does not need spectacle. It can emerge from repetition, routine, and the gradual realisation that you are participating in something you do not fully understand.
Where It May Divide Players
For all its strengths, Inhuman Resources is not universally accessible.
Its pacing is slow and deliberate. Players expecting constant interaction or immediate payoff may find it frustrating.
The narrative’s ambiguity, while thematically appropriate, can also feel unsatisfying. Not all threads are resolved, and some questions are deliberately left unanswered.
The puzzle elements, though effective, are relatively simple. Those seeking deep mechanical challenge may find them lacking.
Additionally, the locked-choice system, while innovative, can feel punishing. The inability to revisit decisions may discourage experimentation, particularly among players who prefer exploring multiple outcomes in a single playthrough.
A Thoughtful Exploration of Control
What Inhuman Resources: A Literary Machination ultimately offers is not a traditional horror experience, but a conceptual one. It explores control, consequence, and the systems that shape behaviour.
It does not rely on fear in the conventional sense. Instead, it builds discomfort through design, structure, and the quiet insistence that every action matters and that some consequences cannot be undone.
It is a game that lingers, not because of what it shows, but because of what it implies.
Final Verdict
Inhuman Resources: A Literary Machination is a bold and unsettling piece of interactive fiction that uses its mechanics to reinforce its themes. Its locked-choice system, fragmented narrative, and oppressive atmosphere create a uniquely reflective experience that stands apart from more traditional horror games.
It is not always comfortable, nor is it always clear, but it is consistently thought-provoking.
