You see the art style and you think it’s a Zelda clone. It looks soft. The characters have these round, pinchable cheeks and big, expressive eyes that scream "wholesome Sunday morning cartoon." But if you’ve actually sat through the first season or dared to watch Dawn of the Deep Soul, you know the truth. Made in Abyss horror isn't just a subgenre tag; it’s a visceral, often deeply upsetting exploration of biological and psychological suffering that catches you completely off guard.
The contrast is the point.
Akihito Tsukushi, the series creator, isn't just drawing a fantasy world. He’s building a meat grinder. The Abyss itself is a character, a vertical hellscape where the very act of leaving—climbing back up—results in what the lore calls the "Curse of the Abyss." It starts with nausea. Then it moves to bleeding from every orifice. Eventually? You lose your humanity entirely, melting into a "Narehate," a hollow shell of meat and fur. It’s body horror that would make David Cronenberg flinch, wrapped in the packaging of a Studio Ghibli film.
The Psychological Toll of the "Curse"
What makes the horror in this series so effective is how it ties physical pain to emotional stakes. We aren't just watching nameless redshirts get eaten by monsters. We’re watching Riko, a child driven by an almost pathological curiosity, lose chunks of her soul and body.
Remember the "Elevator Scene"?
If you know, you know. It’s perhaps the most infamous moment in modern anime. Bondrewd, the Sovereign of Dawn, isn't a villain who wants to rule the world. He’s a scientist. That is much scarier. He views children as "cartridges." He literally strips away their humanity, leaving only the vital organs and a bit of brain matter to process the Curse so he doesn't have to. The horror here isn't a jump scare. It’s the realization of cold, calculated utility. It’s the sound of a suitcase leaking.
Honestly, the show handles trauma better than most prestige dramas. When Nanachi explains what happened to Mitty, the horror stems from the longevity of the pain. Mitty isn't just dead; she’s in a state of perpetual, immortal agony. She’s a puddle of flesh that can still cry. That is a level of dark writing that most "horror" anime wouldn't dare touch.
Nature as an Indifferent Killer
The Abyss is beautiful. That’s the trap.
You’ve got the Garden of Flowers of Resilience on the fourth layer. It looks like a paradise. Then the Orb Piercer shows up. This creature doesn't just bite; it predicts your movements and injects a poison that makes your senses go haywire. It’s evolutionary horror. The creatures in Made in Abyss feel like they belong to a real, albeit terrifying, ecosystem. They aren't "monsters" in the traditional sense; they are apex predators in a place where humans are at the bottom of the food chain.
Why Made in Abyss Horror Hits Different
Most horror relies on the "unseen." We fear the ghost in the corner or the killer in the mask because we don't know what they are. Made in Abyss does the opposite. It shows you everything. It gives you the diagrams. It explains the biology of the transformation.
- Layer 1: Light dizziness.
- Layer 4: Intense full-body pain and bleeding from eyes/nose.
- Layer 6: Loss of humanity or death.
By the time our protagonists reach the Capital of the Unreturned, the dread is suffocating because the "rules" of the world have been established so clearly. You know that for every step down they take, the journey back becomes more impossible. It’s a one-way trip into a digestive system.
The Village of Ilblu in the second season takes this even further. It’s a society built on "Value," where the currency is literally your own body parts or your most precious memories. The backstory of Vueko and the Ganja suicide corps is a masterclass in desperation horror. Seeing a mother forced to eat the "cradles" of her own deformed children to survive? That’s not just scary. It’s soul-crushing. It taps into primal fears about motherhood, survival, and the cost of ambition.
The Bondrewd Factor: The "Kind" Monster
We have to talk about Bondrewd again because he represents the pinnacle of the series' horror. He isn't "evil" in his own mind. He loves the children he experiments on. He remembers all their names. He thinks he’s doing them a favor by making them part of his "progress."
This subversion of the typical villain trope makes the Made in Abyss horror experience feel much more intimate. It’s not a battle of good vs. evil. It’s a battle between human empathy and the cold, unyielding pursuit of knowledge. Bondrewd is the personification of the Abyss: beautiful, technologically advanced, and completely devoid of mercy for the individual.
Common Misconceptions About the Series
People often say this show is "torture porn."
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That’s a lazy take. Sorta.
While the violence is extreme, it’s never purposeless. In Made in Abyss, the horror serves the theme of "Longing." The characters endure these horrors because the drive to discover—to see what’s at the bottom—is more powerful than the fear of death. It’s a commentary on the human spirit. We are a species that will walk into a furnace just to see what the fire is made of.
The show also gets accused of being "grimdark" for the sake of it. But if you look at the quiet moments, the cooking scenes, the friendship between Reg and Riko, the horror only works because you care about them. If the show were just constant misery, you’d go numb. Instead, it gives you hope just so it can twist the knife later.
What You Need To Watch (In Order)
If you’re trying to experience the full weight of this, don't skip the movie.
- Season 1: Sets the stage, ends with the Nanachi/Mitty heartbreak.
- Dawn of the Deep Soul (Movie): This is essential. It’s not a recap. It covers the Ido Front arc and the full introduction of Bondrewd.
- The Golden City of the Scorching Sun (Season 2): The most complex and arguably the darkest part of the story.
Actionable Insights for Horror Fans
If you're diving into Made in Abyss for the first time, or re-watching to catch the details you missed, keep these things in mind:
Watch the background details. Tsukushi hides a lot of lore in the flora and fauna. Many of the "monsters" are actually mutated humans from previous cycles of the Abyss. The environmental storytelling is top-tier.
Pay attention to the sound design. Kevin Penkin’s score is a masterpiece, but the foley work—the sound of breaking bones, the squelch of the Abyss, the distorted cries of the Narehate—is what builds the atmospheric dread.
Understand the "Value" system. In the later arcs, horror is transactional. Think about what the characters are willing to trade. It’s a reflection of their internal growth and their eventual descent into something non-human.
Prepare for the "2000-year cycle." The manga (and the latest anime episodes) hint at a recurring extinction event. The horror isn't just what’s happening now; it’s the realization that this has all happened before and will happen again. You aren't watching a journey; you're watching a cycle.
The real terror of Made in Abyss isn't that Riko might die. It's that she might become something that can no longer be called Riko, all in the pursuit of a "truth" that might not even be worth the cost. It’s a haunting, beautiful, and deeply traumatic masterpiece that redefines what animated horror can achieve.