The ‘Horizon’ Set Controversy Isn’t Just Film Drama — It’s a Wake-Up Call for Game Mocap

Why This Film Controversy Actually Matters to Gamers

This story caught my attention not because I’m glued to movie gossip, but because it connects directly to how our games get made. A stuntwoman, Devyn LaBella, has sued over an allegedly unscripted, violent scene during the filming of Horizon: An American Saga – Chapter 2, saying it happened without notice, consent, or an intimacy coordinator. Kevin Costner and his lawyers have called the complaint a “bold-faced lie” and are moving to have it dismissed. The case is ongoing. Why should gamers care? Because the same people who choreograph dangerous, intimate, and emotionally heavy moments on film sets are increasingly doing that work inside game studios via performance capture. If there are gaps in safety and consent standards there, they can easily map to the way our games are made.

Key Takeaways

• Allegations center on an improvised, sensitive scene without an intimacy coordinator; the defense denies it outright. Case status: ongoing.
• Performance capture in games faces the same risks-physical, emotional, and legal-if protocols are ignored.
• Studios should adopt intimacy coordination, closed sets, consent documentation, and mental health support as standard.
• Gamers can push for better practices by backing studios that treat performers like people, not props.

Breaking Down the Allegations (and the Denial)

According to the complaint filed in May 2025, LaBella alleges she was asked to step in after another performer declined a scene and was then directed into a violent, simulated sexual scenario that wasn’t scripted, pre-choreographed, or supported by an intimacy coordinator. She says the set wasn’t closed and the physicality was not agreed beforehand, leading to trauma and distress. Costner’s side has rejected the account, labeling it a fabrication and seeking dismissal. Those are the two poles. The only thing that’s settled right now is that nothing is settled.

For our purposes as a gaming community, the legal outcome matters, but the operational lesson matters more: sensitive scenes demand process. If that process isn’t there, everyone is at risk-especially performers who have the least power on set.

Why This Hits Home for Interactive Media

Modern games lean heavily on performance capture. Whether it’s a gritty brawl in a detective drama, a romance moment in an RPG, or a survival-horror struggle, those beats are performed by real people in volume stages. I’ve talked to enough devs to know that tight schedules, last-minute rewrites, and “one more take” pressure are common. That’s exactly where best practices prevent harm—and lawsuits.

Film and TV have moved toward clear standards: intimacy coordinators for sensitive content, closed sets, consent protocols, and thorough rehearsals. Games aren’t exempt just because there’s a mocap suit and reflective markers involved. If anything, the abstraction of working in a gray box can make directors push boundaries since the “final” scene will be stylized later. That’s a trap. The body in the suit is still a body, and the mind in that scene is still a person who has to live with it after the capture session ends.

A Practical Safety Playbook for Mocap Shoots

• Use intimacy coordinators when scenes involve intimacy, sexual content, nudity simulation, or restraining force—no exceptions because “it’s just mocap.”
• Lock the scene early: performers must receive the exact beats in writing, with choreography and boundaries defined before they step on the stage.
• No last-minute pivots: if the scene changes materially, you pause, re-brief, and obtain fresh consent. “Spontaneity” isn’t a defense.
• Run closed sessions: only essential crew on the volume, devices away, windows covered. Privacy lowers pressure and prevents voyeurism vibes.
• Safe language and tap-outs: establish clear stop-words and hand signals that anyone can use to halt a take without argument.
• Document consent: capture sign-offs for specific actions, with opt-out paths and no retaliation for using them.
• Rehearse with pads and alternatives: pre-block contact, provide crash mats/props, and design non-contact cheats where possible.
• Post-scene decompression: schedule cooldown time and offer access to mental health support. Heavy scenes linger.
• Empower the stunt team: give the stunt coordinator and intimacy coordinator veto power equal to the director’s in safety matters.

The Gamer’s Perspective: What We Should Expect (and Reward)

As players, we demand authenticity—raw fights, messy relationships, big emotions. But that quality shouldn’t come from corner-cutting with people’s safety. If a studio trumpets “cinematic realism” and “boundary-pushing storytelling,” it should be equally loud about the process that keeps performers safe. Behind-the-scenes features showing rehearsals, coordinator roles, and privacy measures aren’t fluff; they’re signals that a team takes this seriously.

And yes, this applies to indies, too. You might not have the budget for a full-time coordinator, but you can still hire a qualified professional for key days, limit on-set personnel, and put consent checklists and stop protocols in place. Good process doesn’t have to be expensive—it has to be non-negotiable.

Looking Ahead

Whatever happens next in court, this controversy has already done one useful thing: it put a spotlight on gaps that still exist in parts of the industry. Games are no longer animated in isolation—they’re performed. That means studios need the same guardrails as film, written into contracts and upheld on the floor. If the conversation stops at “Did it happen?” we miss the bigger point: it shouldn’t be able to happen on a professional set, period.

TL;DR

A stunt performer alleges an unscripted, violent scene on the Horizon film set; Kevin Costner’s team calls it a lie. The case is ongoing. For game studios using mocap, the takeaway is clear: make intimacy coordination, explicit consent, closed sets, and mental health support standard practice before a bad headline—or a real person—gets hurt.