Until Dawn – The Perfect Valentine’s Horror?

Hello spookies, and welcome to another Graveyard Shift where I have a question for you – if you could save your favourite character in a horror, would you? That’s right, this week we are looking at Until Dawn, released in 2015 – not the recent remaster which does change some things about the game. The game truly starts after the deaths of Hannah and Beth Washington after a prank gone wrong that plays on Hannah’s feelings for Mike. One year later, their brother Josh invites their friends back to the lodge where it happened to party and honour their memories. Of course, the twins are officially missing but we know the truth. Even though I kept almost everyone alive, the themes of love and loss intertwine each nerve wracking quick time event and every butterfly effect. Aside from the twins, everyone except Josh survived and Josh learned the truth of his sisters’ disappearance and suffered the same fate as Hannah… yay? Part horror game, part two relationship simulator, the tropes of masked maniac, mystery man, and fighting the doomed narrative they have been thrust into, keeping everyone alive might just be the perfect Valentine’s experience for you and your spooky love. Let’s talk about that. Caution, spoilers ahead.

Snowy Scares

Horror and romance might seem like opposites, but Until Dawn proves that love can be just as terrifying as any monster lurking in the dark. From unspoken crushes to things better left unsaid, the game uses relationships to heighten tension, influence character choices, and ultimately decide who lives or dies.

While primary being a survival game, Until Dawn builds its story around relationships – just like life! Our group of friends is absolutely filled with dating drama, exes forced to work together, and friendships tested to their extreme limits. Let’s take a look at how the main relationships drive each character and – in turn – the story.

Mike and Jess fit the classic horror trope of the “horny couple who sneaks off and dies first.” Early on, their playful, flirtatious energy makes them feel like prime slasher movie victims – they’re fun, young, and full of life, perfect for early kills. The game even encourages this assumption – leading them into a secluded cabin, where – if you play your cards right as Mike – things get steamy before taking a dark turn.

When Jess is dragged away, Mike wastes no time chasing after her. In my game, he was fast enough to save her, though the two are separated through the whole game, only to reunite after the sunrise. However, if by the time Mike gets to her, Jess’s jaw is hanging off her face, her death drives Mike’s drive to not only survive, but to avenge her. Throughout the game, what seems like an initially shallow fling becomes so much deeper than that.

Emily and Matt’s relationship is one of the more turbulent of the game and between control issues and a lingering attachment to a certain extent, it can get a little tense. Let’s face it, Emily is Marmite. She’s demanding, assertive, and a little bitchy. How smoothly her relationship with Matt goes seems to depend on how much he agrees with her. However he needs to think about himself a little or it can literally be the end of him.

Whether he agrees with her or not, Emily takes them to the fire tower to try and get help. When it inevitably collapses, Matt’s survival depends on how willing he is to put his needs first and trust Emily will be okay. In my game, he survives by leaping to safety but if he’s too focused on saving Emily, he’ll fall before he can save her. He stands a chance if she gave him the flare gun earlier, but if not, if he puts her before himself too much, he’s done for. Keeping both of them alive is about balance. After all, you can’t be a lifeboat if you’re too busy drowning yourself.

The ultimate “will-they-won’t-they” put to the test when Josh puts Chris through some Saw-like tests, forcing him to choose Ashley or Josh, then between Ashley and himself after Josh “dies”. Choose Ashley, and keep choosing her, and love blossoms. Choose to save yourself as Chris and it leads to your doom when she leaves you at the mercy of the Wendigo. I kept both alive, choosing to save Ashley and earning Chris the admittance of her feelings. Through them, we see love makes us vulnerable but stronger at the same time. When the ones we love are in danger it may exploit the love we have for them, exposing a weakness, but it can give us something to fight for, to be strong for.

Josh and Hannah. Fuelled by love, fated to tragedy. Hannah falls to her near death after her feelings for Mike are exploited. In her fight for survival, she turns to Beth, who died on impact, cannibalising her just to stay alive. This keeps Hannah from death, but maybe her fate was worse, losing her humanity and becoming a creature of pure instinct and hunger. Josh is fuelled by the madness he was driven to after the disappearance of his sisters, his love for them and his anger for his friends stopping him from moving on. This drives him to torment his friends, descending deeper into delusion through the night as he hallucinates rotting versions of his sisters in the mines. Eventually he is reunited with Hannah, their love for each other reuniting them in tragedy. If you uncover the secrets of what happened to the twins, Josh will recognise Hannah, and Hannah will recognise Josh. She spares him from death, but he is revealed to suffer the same fate as her, losing his humanity deep in the mines. This dark ending reinforces one of Until Dawn’s core themes: love can be just as destructive as it is redemptive. Josh’s love for his sisters drives him to madness, and Hannah’s love for Josh keeps her from killing him – but it doesn’t save him, either.

Why It Works

The game’s relationship mechanics make the horror feel more personal. Unlike traditional slasher films where characters exist just to be killed in gory, creative ways, Until Dawn forces players to care about the cast – because their lives on and off the mountain are in your hands. Love can be a source of strength, like we see with Mike and Jess, or Chris and Ashley. But it can also be a weakness. Josh and Hannah’s love for another spared him from death, but given his fate, is it kinder to let him die not knowing the truth, not exposing that weakness?  This emotional weight makes every choice feel more meaningful – because saving someone isn’t just about survival; it’s about preserving relationships, trust, and love in the face of horror.

Slasher movies often use romance as a plot device, but Until Dawn turns it into a survival mechanic. Your choices shape the fate of every relationship, making love just as deadly as any monster in the dark. But beyond slasher tropes, the game also explores something even more terrifying—how love and guilt can twist the human mind into something monstrous.

Love and Guilt

While Until Dawn is packed with monster-movie thrills, its deeper horror comes from something far more unsettling – guilt, grief, and the psychological torment that love can bring. Unlike a typical horror story where the killer is just a masked murderer, Until Dawn explores how the weight of past mistakes and unspoken emotions can be just as terrifying as any monster.

In horror, love is often a double-edged sword – it can be a source of redemption, or it can drive people to madness. The game’s most tragic characters, Josh and Hannah, both suffer fates worse than death because of their love for others. And in the end, your choices determine whether love becomes a saving grace or a curse that haunts them forever.

Josh is one of Until Dawn’s most tragic figures, and his story is a powerful example of how love, when twisted by guilt and grief, can drive someone to destruction. He deeply loves his twin sisters, but their disappearance breaks him. He isn’t just sad, he’s consumed by an overwhelming need to make others feel his pain. Unlike most horror game antagonists, Josh isn’t inherently evil – he’s mentally unraveling, creating an elaborate revenge plot to cope with his loss. We see this through the segments with Dr Hill, his therapist in his real life, acting here as his subconscious battling with his mortality and his need for revenge. His love for his friends, particularly Sam, adds another layer of tragedy. Sam is one of the few people who genuinely cares about Josh, but even she can’t save him from himself.

Josh can either die, consumed by pain but never knowing the truth of what happened to his sisters, or learn the truth, but become something monstrous. The final cutscene reveals the horrifying truth: Hannah, who had already turned into a Wendigo, recognised Josh and chose not to kill him. But by sparing his life, by leaving him in the mines, he becomes a Wendigo too, dooming him to a life of mindless hunger and suffering. This is one of Until Dawn’s most haunting moments. Josh, who was already suffering, becomes a true monster—not because of his actions, but because of his tragic fate.

His transformation mirrors classic horror themes: What if the real horror isn’t death, but losing your humanity? This echoes films like The Thing (1982), where a character slowly becomes the very thing they fear. Josh’s love for his sisters ultimately seals his fate – his inability to let go of his grief dooms him from the beginning.

Beyond Josh and the twins’ tragic arcs, Until Dawn also plays with another terrifying psychological theme: Survivor’s guilt. Many horror movies end with a final girl or a last survivor, but Until Dawn gives you control over who makes it to the end. Sam seems out obvious final girl, but even she die in this story. Your choices determine who will be haunted by the events of the night. In my play through, most of the group survived—but what kind of psychological scars will they carry?

Even though my choices kept most of the group alive, the trauma of what they went through and saw can’t be erased and ultimately they have to live with the knowledge they can’t save Josh – their friend – from his fate. Much like in horror films such as The Descent (2005) or Hereditary (2018), surviving doesn’t mean the nightmare is over. Sometimes, the real horror begins after the credits roll – when the survivors have to live with what they’ve seen and done.

At its core, Until Dawn isn’t just about jump scares and monsters—it’s about how love can shape people in ways both beautiful and terrifying.

Love can be a source of strength:

Chris and Ashley’s growing bond helps them survive.

Mike’s determination to save Jess shows that love can be a powerful motivator.


But love can also be a destructive force:

Hannah’s love for Mike led to her downfall.

Josh’s love for his sisters shattered his mind.

Hannah’s love for Josh made her spare him—only for him to share her cursed fate.

By intertwining love with horror, Until Dawn turns relationships into something far more than side plots. It makes them part of the terror itself. Horror movies often use romance to create tension, but Until Dawn takes it a step further – turning love into both a salvation and a curse. In the end, the scariest part of the game isn’t just the monsters or the deaths. It’s the realization that sometimes, love itself is the thing that haunts us the most.

So what does this mean?

Until Dawn is more than just a horror game – it’s a twisted love story, where emotions are just as dangerous as Wendigos in the dark. It takes the classic themes of romance and heartbreak and injects them with adrenaline, forcing players to face the reality that love isn’t always sweet. Sometimes, it’s cruel, tragic, and terrifying.

So if you’re looking for the perfect horror game to play on Valentine’s Day, forget the rom-coms and heart-shaped chocolates. Instead, turn off the lights, gather some friends, and dive into Until Dawn. Just remember:

Love can save you.

Love can destroy you.

And in the end, love might be the scariest thing of all.