There are many good reasons to summon a demon. Revenge. Forbidden knowledge. A dramatic disagreement with the natural order. Encarnita has a more immediate concern: the television needs fixing. OH DEMON! Fix my TV begins with the deeply satisfying suggestion that supernatural power is just another service industry once an elderly customer has decided what she wants. Ancient evil may stalk the earth, but it will apparently also need to check the cables.
Developed and published on Windows by Melt and Mister Jägger, this single-player horror-comedy adventure released on January 15, 2026. You play the summoned demon, exploring a strange mansion, solving puzzles, and receiving orders from the woman responsible for your unfortunate career change. Selecta Play has announced a PS5 version, which remains listed without a release date. On PC, the service call is already in progress, and the job description has become alarming.
Reasons to look closer
The gaze mechanic gives this ridiculous premise an interesting practical center. Looking can change the environment, reveal clues, switch on lights, or activate hidden passages. Observation therefore has an active role: inspecting the house can alter what the house allows you to do. That is a particularly fitting power for a demon assigned domestic maintenance. You may not have arrived with the correct screwdriver, but you can apparently stare at the building until it becomes less uncooperative.
The customer is always more frightening
Encarnita supplies objectives and keeps interacting with the demon as the assignment expands. That relationship is the comic foundation. The protagonist's supernatural identity does not grant authority over the situation; the person with the broken appliance still sets the agenda. It is a neat reversal of the usual horror hierarchy. The mysterious creature has entered the house, yes, but the homeowner would like to know whether it intends to accomplish anything while it is here.
A mundane objective also gives absurdity a useful anchor. Repairing a television is understandable even when the route toward doing it becomes impossible. The greater the gap between the ordinary request and the extraordinary circumstances, the more room there is for comedy. You can follow the basic obligation without expecting the world around it to remain reasonable. That is very close to the emotional experience of troubleshooting electronics, only with more explicit acknowledgment of infernal involvement.
Please look directly at the problem
First-person exploration suits the idea of a gaze that does work. A light, passage, or overlooked clue becomes something to attend to rather than merely another object competing for an inventory slot. The central question is how to read a space: what matters here, what might respond, and what new possibility that response creates. That makes the act of looking part of the adventure's vocabulary. The house is withholding information, and your eyes have been promoted to tools.
There is also a natural tension in making observation useful within a horror game. Curiosity invites you to inspect, while fear encourages you to keep moving. OH DEMON's combination has room for both impulses because the same mansion contains puzzles and threats. The challenge is not simply deciding whether you are brave enough to look. It is accepting that properly investigating the premises may be essential to leaving them, which is an outrageous requirement for a job that began with one malfunctioning screen.
The repair appointment includes running
Chase sequences interrupt the investigative work with creatures that demand a more immediate response. This gives the premise different kinds of pressure: a puzzle asks for attention, while pursuit asks you to get somewhere else. The change of pace is important to the comedy too. A ridiculous assignment can remain ridiculous while its consequences become urgent. Knowing that the situation is absurd does not make the thing coming after you a better coworker.
Sound has a stated role in building that tension, alongside an original soundtrack. For a game centered on looking, the other side of the room still needs a voice. Audio can make a space feel larger than the portion currently visible, leaving the player to negotiate between what is seen and what might be nearby. That relationship gives a small-scale horror adventure useful expressive room. The television may be the original complaint, but it would be optimistic to assume it is the house's only source of disturbing noise.
A short visit with an expandable definition of repairs
Melt describes OH DEMON as a short experience built around comedy, puzzles, and scares, rather than a sprawling campaign. That scale suits a premise with such a clear comic engine. There is value in taking an ordinary request somewhere bizarre without turning the journey into an obligation that consumes the rest of your calendar. A repair appointment should ideally end before you become eligible for employee benefits, even when the employer has bypassed conventional recruitment and gone directly to summoning.
The obvious audience is anyone who likes horror with an absurd personality and puzzles woven into exploration. The mix still includes pursuit and threatening creatures, so the joke is not a promise of a peaceful household errand. Its most appealing inversion remains the simplest one: the demon is the person trying to get through the workday. OH DEMON! Fix my TV takes cosmic menace, gives it a customer, and discovers that the customer has several additional instructions.