Why Made in Abyss Is Beautiful and Horrifying | Studio Ghibli Meets Body Horror

Made in Abyss (2017) weaponizes the contrast between its childlike Studio Ghibli-inspired art style and its brutal body horror to create uniquely unsettling storytelling. The series follows children Riko and Reg descending into a mysterious pit called the Abyss, where cute character designs collide with graphic violence, psychological trauma, and existential dread. The beauty—hand-painted backgrounds, whimsical creatures, wonder-filled exploration—makes the horror hit harder. When characters suffer horrific injuries or transformations, the contrast between what you see (adorable kids) and what happens to them (dismemberment, body horror, death) creates cognitive dissonance that haunts viewers long after watching. This isn't accidental—it's the core of what makes Made in Abyss both a masterpiece and deeply controversial.

Since its 2017 release, Made in Abyss has maintained an 8.6+ rating on MyAnimeList and won the 2018 Anime of the Year award at Crunchyroll, proving its impact despite—or because of—its controversial content.

The Deceptive First Impression

Made in Abyss draws viewers in with delicate, storybook visuals and a childlike sense of wonder. The first episodes feel cozy—quirky interactions, whimsical creature designs, and soft character expressions that give off a sense of safety and innocence.

The chibi-style animation reminds viewers of Studio Ghibli's warmest works. Hand-painted backgrounds rival theatrical productions. Sunlight hits the town of Orth beautifully, rivers weave through districts, and everything looks meticulously crafted.

Then episode 10 happens.

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When the Mask Falls Off

What appears at first to be a cutesy adventure story evolves into a claustrophobic, disturbing fable of single-minded determination and a desperate struggle against overwhelming odds that portrays both brutal violence and severe bodily mutilation involving children.

The tonal shift doesn't arrive gradually. It lands with disturbing force—sudden violence, brutal injuries, psychological trauma, and body horror creep into the narrative, shattering any expectation of a fun adventure.

Similar to how Evangelion uses mecha to explore depression, Made in Abyss uses its genre trappings (adventure anime) to smuggle in much darker themes about human cost and sacrifice.

The Studio Ghibli Aesthetic Hiding Cosmic Horror

The comparison to Studio Ghibli isn't superficial. Made in Abyss deliberately evokes that aesthetic—the organic, curvilinear art style, the fantasy environments, the attention to environmental detail that makes worlds feel lived-in.

But where Ghibli uses that style to create comfort and wonder, Made in Abyss uses it as camouflage.

Art Style as Weapon

The art isn't just beautiful—it's strategically beautiful. The cuter the characters look, the more disturbing it becomes when terrible things happen to them.

The Puni Plush aesthetic can be misleading. Made in Abyss is in fact a full-throated Cosmic Horror Story with a caliber of body horror and ultra-violence comparable to some of anime's most uncompromising dark fantasy.

This creates cognitive dissonance. Your brain sees adorable children with big eyes and soft features. Then those same children suffer injuries depicted in agonizing, unflinching detail—bones breaking, flesh tearing, bodies transforming into something unrecognizable.

The contrast makes both elements stronger. The beauty emphasizes the horror. The horror makes the beauty feel fragile, temporary, a thin veneer over something monstrous.

The Abyss Itself: Beauty That Kills

The Abyss is the series' central metaphor—a massive, mysterious pit filled with ancient relics, strange creatures, and otherworldly beauty that hides its grim nature.

No one knows how deep it goes or how it came to be. It's an Eldritch Location that causes phenomena by sheer proximity. Time moves strangely in the depths. Trying to ascend causes life-threatening symptoms called "the Curse."

The Descent as Metaphor

Going into the Abyss is a one-way journey. Each layer down increases danger. The Curse ensures that returning becomes progressively impossible—mild nausea at shallow depths, intense pain deeper, hallucinations deeper still, and eventually death or transformation into something no longer human.

This "no going back" motif solidifies the horror. You're stuck in your pursuit, trapped in Dante's Inferno's downward spiral with no escape route.

This connects to how Mushishi shows problems that can't be fixed—some journeys don't have happy endings, some costs can't be undone.

When Body Horror Happens to Children

The series' most controversial aspect is its willingness to depict graphic violence and body horror involving child characters.

The Poison Scene That Changes Everything

Episode 10 features Riko being poisoned by an Orb Piercer. The poison works fast—her hand balloons grotesquely, blood pours from her eyes and ears. To save her life, Reg must break her arm with a rock, then amputate it while she screams in agony.

The scene is brutal, extended, and unflinching. Smashing, screaming, and shredding fill the soundscape with disturbing vibes. It's rough and ugly in ways that would benefit from leaving elements implied rather than displayed.

But that's the point. Made in Abyss refuses to look away. The series argues that if you're going to show children in danger, you have to show the actual consequences—not sanitized action-hero injuries that heal by next episode.

This parallels the dark side of competition shown in 100 Meters anime—both series refuse to prettify suffering.

Bondrewd: The Monster Who Loves

The character who embodies Made in Abyss's thematic horror is Bondrewd, a White Whistle explorer who conducts human experimentation in the Abyss's depths.

He's polite, articulate, even gentle in manner. He seems like a stand-up character. But he's responsible for atrocities carried out under the guise of progress and paternal care.

The Mitty and Nanachi Tragedy

Bondrewd tells two children—Mitty and Nanachi—that he'll send them deep into the Abyss then bring them back up to study the Curse's effects.

When they ascend, Mitty takes the full force of the Curse. Her body transforms into a blob-like creature in constant pain, unable to die, screaming as Nanachi is forced to watch helplessly. Bondrewd then experiments on Mitty's immortal body, destroying and regenerating her organs repeatedly.

The horror isn't just the body horror—it's that Bondrewd genuinely believes his work is righteous. He's the most memorable villain in recent memory, in the worst way.

Despite the horror of his actions, he genuinely believes that his work is for progress, even as it destroys countless lives. The series questions whether intent matters when the outcome is monstrous.

The Curse of the Abyss: Consequences That Matter

Unlike most adventure anime where injuries heal conveniently, Made in Abyss enforces permanent consequences through the Curse system.

How the Curse Works

Each layer of the Abyss has a "Curse"—symptoms that occur when ascending:

• Layer 1: Mild dizziness and nausea
• Layer 2: Heavy nausea, headache, numbness
• Layer 3: Vertigo, hallucinations, balance loss
• Layer 4: Intense pain throughout body, bleeding from every orifice
• Layer 5: Complete sensory deprivation, self-harm, loss of humanity
• Layer 6: Death or loss of humanity/transformation into something monstrous

This creates constant dread. Every step deeper makes returning more impossible. Characters can't just decide to leave—physics itself prevents escape.

The Curse turns adventure into trap. Similar to why Monster feels more terrifying than horror anime, the horror comes from inevitability, not jump scares.

Why the Beauty Makes the Horror Worse

The series maintains visual beauty throughout its darkest moments. Even in the deepest, most dangerous layers, the Abyss remains stunning. Bioluminescent creatures glow softly. Underground ecosystems burst with color. Ancient ruins inspire awe.

When Reg and Riko share quiet moments discovering new creatures, when they laugh together despite everything, when they create temporary safety in hostile territory—these moments make the horror that follows unbearable.

You care about these characters. You want them to be okay. The series gives you reasons to hope, then systematically destroys that hope in ways that feel earned, not exploitative.

For viewers seeking similar tonal whiplash, 10 underrated anime you probably missed includes other series that balance beauty with darkness.

The Music That Shouldn't Work But Does

Composer Kevin Penkin created a soundtrack that matches the visual contrast—beautiful, sometimes playful orchestration accompanying horrific scenes.

The song "Underground River" begins slow and quiet, builds to sharp and blaring intensity, then mellows out. It contains meaningful lyrics highlighting themes of descent and discovery.

"Hanezeve Caradhina" plays during tragic moments with haunting vocals that sound both ancient and alien. The music treats the Abyss as sacred, not evil—a place of wonder that happens to kill people.

This creates emotional whiplash that reinforces the series' core tension: beauty and horror aren't opposites here. They're the same thing.

Who Should (and Shouldn't) Watch This

Watch If You:

• Appreciate anime that takes creative risks
• Can handle graphic content if it serves thematic purpose
• Enjoyed other "cute exterior, dark interior" series like Madoka Magica
• Want fantasy adventure that respects consequences
• Can separate art style from content maturity

Skip If You:

• Can't handle body horror or child endangerment
• Prefer sanitized adventure stories
• Need happy resolutions to justify dark content
• Are sensitive to graphic depictions of suffering
• Expect art style to indicate content rating

This connects to how Chainsaw Man feels wrong on purpose—discomfort can be intentional artistic choice.

What Made in Abyss Actually Achieves

The series succeeds at something rare: making beauty and horror inseparable. Most anime separate them—beautiful moments provide relief, horrific moments create contrast. Made in Abyss refuses this separation.

Despite its heavy themes, the series maintains delicate balance through pacing that alternates between wonder, tension, and horror—preventing darker elements from becoming overwhelming while never sanitizing consequences.

Nearly a decade after its 2017 premiere, Made in Abyss remains both celebrated and controversial. Its refusal to look away from the costs of adventure created something that haunts viewers in ways typical horror anime can't achieve.

Because when horror wears the face of wonder, you can never look at wonder the same way again.