There is a specific feeling that comes from driving through a dense forest at night — headlights sweeping across trunks, the trees appearing to rotate around a fixed point rather than the car moving through them. The forest indifferent to the thing passing through it.
There is something about that feeling I haven’t seen a game do yet. Something colder, older — what those forests look like when the process has been running long enough. The silence isn’t empty. The trees aren’t decoration. The road exists because someone made it, but the forest was there before the road and will be there after, and it has no opinion about either.
You are moving through something that is not for you and was never for you and doesn’t register the distinction.
That feeling is what I’m building toward.
Old Growth is a first-person horror driving game. But the horror isn’t something that chases you. It’s the accumulated weight of being somewhere that doesn’t know you’re there — and beginning to suspect that isn’t quite true.
The forest has been here longer than the roads.