A shiver passes through you as unseen fingers, cold as the grave, dance across your skin. They remember the violence you inflicted on them. And yet they do not return it.
You’ll Kill Her. You’ll Love Her. You’ll Regret Everything.
Slay the Princess isn’t just another horror game. It’s a love letter written in blood, a visual novel that grabs fairy tale conventions by the throat and rearranges them into something terrifyingly new.
The beating heart of Slay the Princess lies in its multiple-choice visual novel structure, but here’s the twist: every choice feels like peeling off a piece of your own morality.
The genius lies in how these choices aren’t mechanical inputs but existential declarations. Each selection doesn’t just advance the story - it redefines reality itself.
It changes the Princess. It changes you.
A Cabin at the End of the World
You wake as the Hero, a hollow vessel filled by the Narrator’s honeyed commands.
The Narrator drags you through a forest thick with metaphor, toward a cabin that shouldn’t exist. And below it… Here resides the Princess.
But our purpose isn’t to save her—it’s to kill her.
You’re on a path in the woods, and at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.
According to the Narrator, should we fail, the entire world will end.
This premise completely subverts the archetype of the ”princess in need of saving,” immediately casting doubt: what unspeakable evil could hide behind a figure as seemingly innocent as a princess?
The First Cut Isn’t the Deepest
Beyond its seemingly brutal incipit, the game conceals one of the most complex and fascinating ”love stories” ever explored in a video game, a claim that might surprise given its context.
Yes, Slay the Princess is a love story, though I fear only those who play it will discern why I make this assertion.
Playing this title is like venturing into a maze with a thousand exits, where every step can drastically alter your perception of reality and truth, confronting you with ever-changing versions of the characters—and even of yourself.
Paired with entirely hand-drawn artwork (every stroke oozing gothic unease) and a soundtrack that hums beneath your skin, the experience becomes inescapably immersive.
There is no predetermined path. Just as there is no single way to interpret this fantastic title.
To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life.
I could tell you about the voices that whisper from the margins, or how the walls sometimes bleed, or why the princess’s smile changes when she thinks you’re not looking.
But these aren’t my stories to tell - they’re yours to discover.
The cabin’s waiting…
She knows you’re getting closer.