SexTape

In a world dominated by instant streaming and endless digital content, a surprising wave of nostalgia is bringing the analog past back to life. VHS tapes and cassettes, once consigned to dusty shelves and thrift store bins, are now making a remarkable resurgence. Including the resurfacing of the long-forgotten, homemade sextape – I’m sure.

Collectors and fans, hungry for something more tactile and personal, are drawn to the grainy textures and imperfect sounds of these once-forgotten formats. VHS tapes, with their soft hum of static and tangible sense of history, offer a viewing experience that’s raw and immersive, far from the polished look of modern HD screens.

SexTape, the latest from Splatterpunk Award nominee Matthew Vaughn, is a deep dive into the unsettling world of obsession, a shadowy corridor leading straight to the depths of the human psyche. Known for his shock-driven, envelope-pushing narratives in the horror genre, Vaughn steers away from his usual splatterpunk approach in this outing. Instead, he delivers a dark, transgressive story that strips horror down to its psychological core, giving readers a raw and disturbing glimpse into how a seemingly innocuous object can drive a man to his breaking point.

Thomas, a character as strange as the stories he curates, makes a living collecting and selling VHS tapes—a nostalgic trade that plays well into SexTape‘s grimy storyline. He’s a collector of rare finds, hunting down the forgotten, the unlabeled, and the obscure for his clientele. So, when he stumbles upon an unlabeled tape, he anticipates a hidden gem. But when he presses “play,” he finds himself entranced by the grainy images and the dark, implicit story unfolding on his screen. With each view, his fascination morphs into obsession, one that consumes him to the point of self-destruction.

Vaughn walks a thin line here, using the allure of forbidden voyeurism and toying with underage attraction as the hook, then sinking readers deeper into the effect this has on Thomas’s mind. This isn’t a story of gruesome violence or overt horror, but rather a tale of psychological decline that uses subtlety and suggestion to unsettle.

This journey feels intensely personal. Thomas’s growing obsession and his spiral into darkness are rendered with a depth that makes his transformation painfully believable. Vaughn draws readers in by presenting Thomas as someone whose fascination for the macabre is initially relatable, even rational for a man in his line of work. But as Thomas’s fixation on the tape intensifies, his life crumbles, and we see his own internal darkness surface.

Vaughn’s style in SexTape is almost hypnotic; he lures the reader in with Thomas’s fascination, then subtly raises the stakes as Thomas loses himself. The narrative reads like an unspooling tape, deliberately paced and haunting in its simplicity. Fans of Vaughn’s other works might miss the explicit violence he’s known for, but they’ll likely find his departure into psychological horror just as engrossing.

SexTape is an impressive departure from Vaughn’s splatterpunk roots, proving he’s a versatile writer capable of mining terror from the psychological as effectively as he does from the visceral. While it may not satisfy those looking for blood-soaked horror, it offers a slower, more contemplative exploration of fear—fear of oneself, fear of losing control, and fear of obsession.

For readers of transgressive fiction and fans of psychological horror, SexTape offers a compelling blend of nostalgia, dread, and haunting introspection. It’s a worthy addition to Vaughn’s catalog and a chilling reminder that sometimes, the scariest stories are the ones we tell ourselves.