You’ve inherited an old farm in the far reaches of Podlasie - the kind of place where roads turn to dirt, and the nearest neighbor lives “somewhere beyond the woods.” The buildings lean, the air tastes of rust, and the receipts you find insist the place was recently repaired. It doesn’t look it.

Still, there’s potential. Maybe you’ll restore it, maybe you’ll sell it, maybe you’ll finally have quiet. The locals don’t say much - their English breaks halfway through a warning, their glances drift toward the treeline. They tell you not to walk too far past the birches.

At night, the farm hums with life it shouldn’t have. Wood groans like breath. Metal rusts between one blink and the next. You start to feel watched - not by malice, exactly, but by something patient. Something that waits for your next attempt to fix what refuses to stay fixed.

A slow-burn rural horror, built on silence, superstition, and the unraveling of luck itself.
The farm isn’t haunted. It’s observed.

Genre: Folkloric / Psychological / Liminal Horror
Playstyle: Slow-burn, sensory-heavy, consequence-driven unraveling
Setting: Rural Poland, late autumn - isolation, superstition, and the quiet decay of reason
Themes: Entropy, fatalism, inherited ruin, the collapse of luck
CW: Darkness, isolation, slow injury, environmental decay, psychological distress, implied gore, fatal accidents