Consider the most silent character of the American horror film.  The character always sketched in silhouette high on a hill.  As stark and tall as Mother Bates.  As ramshackled as a cannibalistic family of killers in west Texas.  As small-town boring as Judith Meyers.  There's a reason the house is center of American horror.  It tells us who's inside.  It tells us with its gables, with its eaves, with its rain gutters & with its windows.  With its porches & with its storm doors.  If you listen, it'll whisper. 

Pack 100 of them together on a converted plot of farmland and what might they say, whimpering all at once?  Maybe something about the animals inside.  Hungry beasts with bottomless stomachs growling like chainsaws.  Beasts a lot like pigs.