"Cozy horror" seems like an oxymoron, doesn't it?  These are two descriptors that, by all accounts, should not be compatible.  Not in the sense that horror can never be cozy or comforting, lord knows I know tons of people for whom horror content is relaxing and soothing.  But the idea of making something that is both meant to be frightening and meant to be soothing on purpose seems like it should be an impossibility.  One's goal is to present stress, to make the participant feel put off and trigger their need to flee.  The other is to bring them out of stress, to relax them and put them in a place of zen.  These two ideas are literally opposites.  And yet, in the medium of gaming, they find common ground.  One of the genius things about video games is their capabilities to mesh seemingly incongruous tones together by allowing the player to engage directly with the material at their own speed and in their own way.  Things don't always have to be one singular genre or tone, they can transcend even seemingly opposite ideas and create something that effectively toes the line between the two.

Thus arose the cozy horror game.  Many properties, especially in the indie gaming scene, choose to toe this very difficult line, and often to great effect.  Farming sims where things are just a little off and get very creepy at night.  Takes on classic comfort JRPGs like Pokemon but with found footage FMV and cryptids at the center of it.  Dating sims where you date Lovecraftian horrors who are literally warping the world around you into a nightmare.  But perhaps the most common type of cozy horror game is the horror fishing game.  Fishing has long since been a popular mechanic in video game.  Fishing simulators are a very common genre of sports games and are perhaps the most beloved of the genres by the wider gaming community.  But I would argue it is more notable for its presence in other games.  Loads of games have a fishing minigame to them, from farming sims like Stardew to major triple A RPGs like Final Fantasy XV.  Fishing is one of the only ethical minigames, I will hate you forever for introducing a dumb card game into your game but fishing?  I'm down with fishing.  And it's the perfect set dressing for a horror game.  Fishing is often a hobby associated with isolation, with quiet, with serenity.  It is you and the water and whatever lies beneath it.  It's tranquil, but it is also adjacent to other fears, like Thalassophobia.  It is a perfect match for horror, it is practically THE template for cozy horror.  And in the fishing horror subgenre, there is no game that does it better than Dredge.

Dredge - A Lovingly Crafted Cozy Horror

You like what I did there.  "Lovingly crafted".  It took me a long time to cook with that pun, you better appreciate it.  Or don't, I'm not your dad.  I have been promising a piece on Dredge since I first played it in October of 2025.  This has been a long time coming, I'm sorry it took so long.  I am perhaps too ambitious with my projects.  If you have heard me talk about Dredge in the past, you will know that I love this game.  Dredge was one of the best games I played in 2025, ranking 10th on my end of year list, and is in my top 100 list of games as of the time of this writing.  It ranks #88, right above Kingdom Hearts Birth by Sleep and right below The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds, which is kind of a hilarious sandwich.  It's like who I was for most of my life fighting with who I am now in real time.  At the time of this writing, Dredge is also my favorite horror game of all time, though that is just due to a lack of familiarity with the genre.  I love horror games but I unfortunately haven't played too many of them because I've always been like "too scared of being too scared", you know?  I digress.  Dredge is a very special game, one I've remained passionate about since I played it and one I'm very excited to finally talk about.

But First, What Exactly Is Dredge

Dredge is a 2023 fishing horror RPG set in a mysterious island chain in an unknown ocean, comprised primarily of four major archipelagos.  In it you play as a man known only as "the Fisherman", who had arrived in these isles initially to fill in the recently vacated job of "fisherman" but had crashed at some point and lost his boat.  Thankfully, the mayor of the town in the center of the islands, the Marrows, has a ship that is just in need of repair work and offers the Fisherman a deal: he does some jobs around town for the locals and the mayor will let him have the ship for a discount.  This deal makes a lot more sense when you realize that the economy of these islands is built entirely around the fish trade and, as such, the Fisherman actually holds all the leverage in this situation.  So we set off to complete tasks and inundate ourselves into the local community, trying to pay off our borrowed boat and encourage the town to reopen basic services.

Things start out simply enough.  You go out.  You find some spots with a large amount of fish activity.  You lower your rods and try to get as many fish as you can hold.  Standard stuff.  But, as you go, something isn't quite right with the islands.  Some of the fish are... weird.  They have bizarre mutations, extra eyes and limbs and generally just monstrous features.  A fog covers the sea at night, making it difficult to see.  And when you can't see what's truly around you, your mind starts playing tricks on you.  Rocks seem to appear out of nowhere, threatening you to crash, before disappearing just as quickly.  Boats will signal hello to you, only to disappear forever when out of view.  Mysterious lights come from within the inky black beneath you, things too big to be any animal you've ever seen.  And they're gaining on you.  The townsfolk seem to know more than their letting on as well but they won't talk to you.  They're suspicious of you.  As if they've seen you before.  But surely that can't be the case, you've never been here before.  Right?

Not too long after you finish paying off your boat, you are approached by a mysterious villager who asks that you call him "the Collector".  The Collector asks to see the Fisherman on the abandoned island just outside of the Marrows, as he has a job for him.  The Collector, you see, has discovered an ancient book that is said to grant the wielder the very powers of the deep when wielded properly.  However, he is missing the key components needed to use the book's power, nor does he have need of the ocean's magic.  What he wants, however, is the components themselves, artifacts of the deep that, as a collector, he would find particularly valuable.  So he establishes a bit of quid pro quo, squid pro quo if you'll pardon the pun.  The Fisherman would find what the Collector has to be very useful on his own mission, they would grant him the power to control the sea itself.  If he is willing to bring the artifacts of the ocean deep back to the Collector, he will grant the power contained within the book to our intrepid adventurer.  And so the Fisherman begins a quest to sail the archipelagos and find the artifacts contained within.  But, one can't help but ask: why, truly, does the Collector want them?  What isn't he telling us?

Islands Out of Time and Space

One of the most interesting things about Dredge to me has always been the island chains itself.  Something I just generally think that Dredge does well is its overarching sense of "wrongness".  There is an uncanniness that always lurks beneath the surface of the game, even in its most quiet and serene moments.  It is a game that feels like it's always ready to shift into something terrifying and stressful, and I think a big part of that is how wrong its setting feels.  Dredge takes place on a series of island chains in the middle of what is otherwise an endless ocean, one that wraps upon itself and brings the Fisherman back to the other side if he tries to travel too far from it.  Which kind of gives you a sense of being a prisoner of whatever is going on in this sea.  But the thing about the islands is that none of them feel like they belong together.  They all feel out of place.  Out of time.

To start, we have the Marrows.  The fishing villages we start off with, the Marrows implies a very specific time period and tone.  It looks like it's taken straight out of an early 1900s novel, something by Hemingway or, well.  Lovecraft.  The islands are populated by old east coast folk, every character feels like it stepped out of a movie set in Massachusetts just before the first world war.  And yet, even here things feel out of place.  This cozy old school fishing village has a shockingly modern dry dock and the boat they give you feels out of place for its setting, resembling something far more modern.  From the very beginning there is a conflict in style and in placement, as if the world is formed from dissonant pieces that have been sucked in and are now being held prisoner by the things beneath the waters.

The first area we sail to after the Marrows is the Gale Cliffs, and once again we have what seems to be a change in time.  Not a drastic one, mind you, but a noticeable one.  The Gale Cliffs house an old whaling village, a place that doesn't feel too out of touch with the villages we saw in the Marrows and yet... that doesn't seem quite right, does it?  The whaling industry was on the decline when the fishing towns like the ones in the Marrows would've been around.  They aren't that far apart, mind you, a decade at most, and the people of the Gale Cliffs make a note that they have ceased whaling operations, but it seems to be something that happened mere months or years ago, not decades.  The timeline seems to be conflicting, subtly for now, but noticeably.  Again, as if the sea has swallowed these places from across eras and are now refusing to let go of the people within them.

The bizarre timeline comes to a head though with Dredge's third area, the Stellar Basin.  A massive basin housing a monster straight out of mythology, the Stellar Basin really throws the timeline off by having a modern research facility on its scattered islands.  A college student who seems very out of her depth has become locked out of the research facility that she came to work at, with the actual building being too dangerous for one to enter with the beasts from the depths roaming about.  This student does not seem to understand how or why she got here, and does not seem to be aware of how she can leave this endless ocean if she is able to at all.  Just another drifter, another dissonant piece of this sea of monsters, something it chooses not to let go.

The Twisted Strand follows this and it not only seems out of time, it seems outside of space itself.  For most of the game so far we have been encountering archipelagos of similar climate.  A sort of temperate, fall on the East Coast vibe.  Just barely jacket weather.  But the Twisted Strand is a mangrove swamp, a warm weather climate in the midst of a very cold sea.  It feels out of place in a world of out of place fragments.  Its sole resident is a pilot, a pilot flying a military plane that feels right out of WW1, crashed down into this swamp with no hopes of escape.  His brethren were all with him, and none of them made it.  The sea taking its victims and leaving behind those who cannot afford to mourn.  Those who are now possibly lost in space and in time.

Finally, the fifth area is the Devil's Spine.  The Devil's Spine is an active volcano that the Fisherman arrives at, only to find ancient ruins scattered about the area.  A civilization far older than the ones scattered about the other island chains used to call this volcanic area home, maybe something Greek or Roman.  A far cry from the New England fishing town we started our journey in.  Whatever civilization used to be here, the islands only have one remaining resident, the last member of the cult who used to call this island home.  He worships the Deep.  He fears it.  He seeks its favor.  He seeks its retribution.  This island is dead, but the Deep refuses to let it go.

Five island chains.  Five dissonant pieces.  A world that feels uncanny.  One that feels wrong.  It's very interesting because it's obvious why these island chains were chosen.  It gives the game a variety of locales to explore, a changing visual identity, stuff like that.  But by choosing to create a world of dissonant pieces to have "video game levels", they have given the world of Dredge a distinctive sense of "incorrectness".  It is as I've said throughout this section: Dredge so often feels like a world that the sea itself is keeping imprisoned and it refuses to let go.  Even as the pieces themselves are slowly dying.  Maybe the truth is that they're already dead, and this sea is simply the hell they must endure.  This may very well be Davy Jones' locker, and we are its residents.

A Love of Old Sailing Stories

Dredge is often cited as one of the best examples of cosmic horror in gaming, the existentialism of existing in an uncaring world designed to drive you mad, where the realization of your own insignificance serves to drive you even madder.  And that is certainly one of its strongest aspects and where a majority of the horror comes from.  Dredge is steeped in the concept of madness, the "madness meter" on the UI is omnipresent, an eye watching over everything the fisherman does.  As the fog rolls in, so too does the oppressive weight of loneliness, of feeling you are the sole member of an apathetic universe too grand to truly ever even think about or care about you.  If there is a god, they are unconcerned with your existence.  That is the feeling that Dredge evokes.

However, I think what makes this existentialism really soar is how exactly it blends with old sailing stories.  Dredge has so much love for the old storytelling of sailors, the tall tales they used to tell, it weaves this love into every aspect of its DNA.  It's not surprising of course, it could be argued that a lot of cosmic horror is rooted in old sailing stories.  The vast, unknown depth of the ocean, the possibility of what might be down there waiting for its chance to surface, it drives a man to madness.  You begin seeing things, hearing things, believing things.  It's not exactly surprising that the father of cosmic horror, H.P. Lovecraft, continuously used sea monsters and sea monster imagery in his work.  Heck, his most famous monster of all time, Cthulhu, is literally a giant octopus monster with dragon wings.  And when you really think about it, what is space but another vast, unknowable ocean?

They hit literally all the bangers of old sailing stories.  Giant sea serpents capable of shaking the earth.  Glowing sea monsters that come up from the deep.  Islands and rocks that your ship can ram into only to disappear when you circle back around.  Ships that follow you in the night only to disappear the moment you look at them.  It hits every possible beat that it could hit outside of just having mermaids.  Honestly, kind of disappointing it doesn't actually have mermaids now that I think of it, it would've been great to see what kind of horrible monstrosity they made them.  It even has the Kraken, and it is as fierce and as giant as you always hoped it would be.  It even glows in the dark!  This focus on old sailing stories to mine the horror is actually super interesting because it kind of lessens the blow a bit?  Like, you never feel too terrified because the game always has that cozy "campfire story" quality that makes it inherently calming even in its spookiest moments.

But it is not just invoking these old sailing stories to set a mood, it is putting you in the mindset of an old sailor out in the open ocean who has begun to see things.  As your madness meter fills, as the isolation and lack of sleep gets you, you begin seeing these things talked about in old sailing stories with incredible frequency.  Rocks do spawn in front of you to harm your ship.  Boats will signal you, apparently friendly, only to ram you and disappear.  I swear this actually happened one time, I was fishing when I approached a boat that was entirely friendly, only for it to turn into a sea monster as you got close.  I swear I saw it.  But also, who would believe me, you know.  By putting Dredge in the realm of old sailing stories, it manages to sell its theme of going mad so effectively, to the point where even the player has to ask if the events that they saw in the game truly happened.  It perfectly walks that line between "cozy" and "horror", it's so good.

The Serenity of the Open Ocean

Yet, the isolation is not always a source of madness.  Often times, as you're sailing the seas, it's very beautiful.  While the horror aspects are obviously always at the forefront of Dredge, there are plenty of moments where it is just a tranquil little fishing game.  Where you're just allowed to sail across the world, picking up quests from villagers and making money to either upgrade your boat or do repairs.  It's a very relaxing experience at times.  I would say it's attempting to lull you into a false sense of security so the horrors that come at night hit harder, but I genuinely just think that Dredge wants to be a relaxing little fishing game at times.  Something you can turn on and vibe with at any time and just catch some fish, even if a lot of them aren't "all right".

A big reason this works is that fishing is actually super fun.  When you hear "fishing game", you probably imagine a distinct set of mechanics.  We have been conditioned as gamers to associate fishing with a very specific approach.  You got a rod, you got a reel, you got a line, you wait for the fish to bite and then fight it.  It's a tried and tested formula that works in games from actual fishing simulators like SEGA Bass Fishing to minigames in other games like Stardew.  Dredge instead opts for a timing based Quick Time Event approach.  When you hook a fish, you get a little reeling in minigame where you just have to hit the prompts with good timing to nab your fish.  No fish catch really goes on for that long, you're not actively fighting the fish as it reels in, making the fishing very snappy.  It gives the game a very addictive quality that makes the fishing very engaging despite its simplicity.  I honestly sometimes stalled out making progress when I played just to catch fish.  And then once you've caught those fish, you get to find room for them on your boat, which means playing an item organization game to fit as many fish as possible on your boat as efficiently as possible.  Like, they really nailed the commercial fishing gameplay, it's fast paced, fun, and very soothing.

These cozy vibes are aided by the setting.  I know that small New England towns have long been ruined by the works of King and Lovecraft, people who read horror just inherently associate them with something unsettling going on.  But I think the reason why New England works so well as a horror setting is that it is just an inherently pleasant place.  It gives off incredibly cozy vibes, with its dense forests that turn in autumn and its cooler climate.  It is just a place of sweaters and coffee and all the hallmarks we associate with coziness.  Dredge choosing to invoke the setting of Lovecraft not only draws you into the horror, but it also draws you into the serenity that permeates this game.  It's as lovely and tranquil as it is terrifying and I appreciate it greatly.

But I think it is in these serene moments that Dredge ends up being rather beautiful.  The sea may be a source of horror but in the quieter moments, the expanse is breathtaking.  As you sail, you will find yourself encountering these magical moments, moments that almost make you feel like the horror is from a different game entirely.  Seagulls will fly in formation over your boat.  Dolphins will swim alongside you, jumping in and out of the water.  Whales will breach from the water.  Dredge is so effectively able to toe the line of seeing the ocean as horrifying and seeing the ocean as wonderful.  I was kind of in awe the first time I encountered a whale in it, it was just such a magical instance that I had to stop and watch for a while.  It's a contrast that works to Dredge's advantage, it lures you out of the horror enough to where when it comes, it feels like a fresh wound, but it also just compels you to keep playing because you want to experience this world.  It is serene and cozy and wonderful and makes for something truly brilliant.

The Mystery of the Deep

One question permeates Dredge: what exactly is it the Collector wants.  As mentioned previously, the Collector is searching for artifacts that are hidden within the deep, guarded by its monsters.  With each artifact you collect, he is willing to grant powers from his mysterious book, powers which serve to drive the Fisherman mad when using them but also allow him to be more effective at navigating the ocean.  Allowing him to warp around the sea, or granting his boat supernatural speed, stuff like that.  However, something is not right about the Collector's goals.  The artifacts he's finding are not lost treasures of the hidden deep, they're women's clothing.  Jewelry, dresses, stuff of that sort.  Stuff that looks contemporary.  As you near the end of your quest, the Collector speaks of a ritual, one that requires all the artifacts to be in place to conduct.  Something weird is going on, something the Collector is not telling us.  And the clues are everywhere in the ocean, just waiting for the Fisherman to find them.

Julie

Throughout your adventures across the sea, you will constantly stumble upon messages in bottles.  These bottles include many different things, sidequest hints, advertisements for where to sell your wares to get higher money out of specific fish, general notes from people in the world, stuff like that.  But the vast majority of these bottles come from a very specific source: the diary of a young woman named Julie.  Julie was a newlywed from some time in the past who lived in the island chain where Dredge takes place.  Her husband was, seemingly, the previous fisherman who vacated his post not too long ago and who the current Fisherman has taken over for.  And the story Julie tells is the most significant thing in this entire game.

Julie was, as mentioned previously, a newlywed to a Fisherman in the island chain.  Her diary tells of her early days being married, her husband proposing, the death of his mother and her insecurity about whether or not her mother-in-law is trying to slight her from beyond the grave, the long, lonely hours she spends at home while her husband is attempting to make his living.  It tells of happy days, of a couple truly in love.  It tells of that love being separated by the work, but still holding strong in spite of this fact.  We learn much about her from very little, that she is quick to think people are upset with her, that she feels unfulfilled in her marriage, that she has needs that are not being met and more and more she asks to join her husband on the sea just to have his company.  It is a tragic account of a woman who feels that, despite getting everything she wanted, she is potentially more unhappy now than she was before all this occurred.

6th, 7th March 1927

We are engaged to be married!

He sailed us out to the very center of Stellar Basin to see the lights. We talked for hours - something we have not done in such a long time - waiting and hoping. Some time past midnight, as we were growing delirious and hysterical from the lack of sleep, the aurora shimmered into the skies above. When I turned to see his reaction, he was already down on one knee.

I cannot even remember what he said, or what I said, but I know that I said yes! The ring is beautiful, with a span of jewels going right the way around. I cannot take my eyes off of it.

P.S. I was not sure whether to write this under yesterday's date, or today's, given that it occurred at the conjunction of days - but I feel that the news is significant enough to warrant spanning multiple entries.