Centum
Released: March 11th, 2025
Developer: Hack The Publisher
Publisher: Serenity Forge
Systems: PC, PS5, Switch (reviewed), Xbox X/S
Body horror, existential crises, deceptive storytelling, the emerging role of so-called artificial intelligence in media. Centum.
It takes a lot for me to bite off on a point-and-click adventure. Despite genuinely enjoying the ones I’ve played, I know my attention issues well enough to understand how quickly I can drop off of games typically characterized by puzzle-focused, methodical progression. Every now and again, one comes along and speaks to me at a volume I can’t ignore.
This one screamed.
Centrum has much to unpack, and I don’t want to diminish its best elements by starting with how dark, grisly, or weird it is. By the same token, I must admit that Centum’s dark, grisly weirdness is exactly what got my attention. It’s hard not to notice a rat with the head of a bug-eyed man bleeding out in a trap like it’s Watership Down.
I expected strange and I expected horror. Not only did I get these things, I was gifted a fascinating, poignant, and thoroughly relevant story. There are mysteries to unravel. There is gruesomeness to endure. Above all, there is an incredible dissection of generative AI to enjoy.
Centum’s opening conceit is reminiscent of something like Hypnospace Outlaw, presenting players with a computer desktop to click around in. A handful of documents containing strange text surround a software program, the contents of which are… well, they’re dark, grisly, and weird.
_100.bat is a simulated escape room. It kicks off with a multi-headed judge asking you a series of questions regarding your identity. The selection of potential answers, like the questions themselves, lack context. You’re not told why you’re in a dingy jail cell, why the judge calls your answers lies, or what your answers even mean.
What becomes clear is that you have three nights to spend in this cell, a limited number of interactions available, and the general sense that you should be finding a way out. There’s a cubic radio thing, a cup that’s sometimes got liquid inside, a rat trap, a small hole in the wall, all unassuming things that could lead to sensible scenarios like growing a tree out of dead meat.
I said what I said.
You can’t make every possible decision within a three-night simulation, and frustrating your potential escape is the issue of progress resetting whenever you start it up again. As you try different things, however, it won’t take too long until a method of lasting change presents itself, and what at first looks like a simple game about escaping a virtual prison becomes a far more complex game about escaping a virtual prison.
Centum is full of esoteric dialogue and confusing statements. You can talk to the creepy rat and he may level accusations your way, referencing a war you allegedly started, and you can answer in ways that suggest you know what he’s talking about despite the fact you, as a player, really don’t.
While this may sound like any number of games that use vagueness as a mask for having nothing meaningful to say - let’s face it, there are lots of those - Centum rolls around in obfuscation just long enough to stretch the bounds of your curiosity without breaking it, providing surprisingly frank exposition at just the right moments.
For all its allegory and unreliable narration, the writing can be less than subtle at times. Each clear answer only leads to more curious questions in the aftermath, however, and this is how Centum deftly held my attention - it kept drawing me in with mystery, providing enough of an answer to keep me from growing frustrated, and then dove back into mysterious territory.
That’s not to say Centum freely volunteers its entire hand by the end. Much is left to interpretation, and it leaves you with plenty to mull over in its conclusion.
Without saying too much - I hope - this is a trip into a virtual purgatory overseen by an AI with a personality and purpose. While there are similarities to be drawn with I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, there’s a clear distinction between the antagonistic AM of Harlan Ellison’s short story and Centum’s BeeMK (affectionately named Beemkie). For all the horror and misery found within Beemkie’s simulated prison, it is not built from a position of malice.
An AI generator doesn’t operate from a position of malice. It simply generates.
Context, consequences, they see neither concern nor consideration from something that exists simply to perform a function to the best of its ability. This distinction between the stereotypical “evil AI” of science fiction and the impersonal nature of AI as it’s come to exist in reality lies at the core of Centum’s themes and, indeed, its horror.
Some truly disturbing stuff unfolds throughout the plot. Grotesque visuals of warped flesh and mutilation, lurid descriptions of death and destruction, themes of decay and dilapidation, there’s plenty to unsettle the brain, but I wouldn’t consider any of it gratuitous - nothing is played for shock value alone, it’s all there to build a sense of dread and morbid curiosity in the player. It does this to great effect.
Horribly beautiful pixel art forms an integral part of the experience. While the initial cell environment is rather basic, later backdrops are richly detailed, expertly communicating such feelings as isolation or claustrophobia when the narrative calls for it. I love the character designs, bizarre in ways both outlandish and understated. Their animations are minimal when rendered up close, but they can be wonderfully eerie all the same.
Some alternate - though still pixelated - art styles show up at key points. Narrated flashback sequences resemble feverishly animated chalk drawings, white outlines shivering against plain black and cut with harsh splashes of red. There are also a few arcade-style minigames that occur throughout, resembling Game Boy titles with chunky graphics and a greyscale color scheme.
Said minigames, by the by, are fine. They serve a purpose, and that’s about it, but they do bring with them some delightful music. Speaking of which, the soundtrack is an absolute belter.
Much of the music’s made up of beautiful tunes, some truly lovely stuff. In keeping with the game’s themes however, even the prettiest melodies weave in threatening tones to keep you from feeling too comfortable. Sound effects can be far less pleasant, and that’s not a compliment - while unpleasantness is often the goal, some noises wander too far into the realm of genuine sensory discomfort.
I frigging hate that radio noise.
As gripping as the game largely is, there are moments where my interest dipped. I’m not mega fond of the more explicit puzzles that occasionally occur - they feel like they’re included out of a sense of obligation and are rote as a result. A few sections feel like they go on just a little bit too long, affecting the story’s pace.
Another minor issue is how the plot can indulge itself into moments of circularity, hammering home certain points multiple times and going over the same information in a way that adds no further narrative development. It’s not that big a deal, and I barely noticed it while it happened, but I did start to get impatient towards the very end of the game and I don’t think I’d have been so tempted to sprint the final leg of the story had it been just a touch tighter.
A console-specific criticism can be had of the controls, which is common in a genre best interacted with via mouse. Using a controller to interact with tiny objects sat next to other interactables, as well as having to click the X on desktop windows to close them, is a hassle. The only place I noticed an ability to automatically flick between clickable items was an in-game web browser one barely ever uses.
In all honesty though, my complaints exist in the shadow of all the nice things I could say. Given my propensity for losing steam with adventure games as a result of a neurodivergent brain, devoting my spare time to seeing this one through says a lot. It held my attention and has stuck in my mind, and that’s a genuine accomplishment.
Centum is a gripping point-and-click trip, drawing players in with disturbing imagery and a disquieting atmosphere before laying on a terrific critique of generative AI - as well as the kind of people who want to exploit it. Striking a nice balance between enigma and clarity, it presents a world you can’t fully trust contrasted against sincere messaging.
It’s so much more than freaky rat men drooling everywhere. It’s evocative and heartfelt, and has freaky rat men drooling everywhere! An algorithm couldn’t pull it off half as well.
8.5/10
