Resident Evil has always been a strange creature: Like many of its most notable monsters, it has shifted and evolved into various forms. From its blocky days of tank-controlled Z-list actors to first-person fright fests, the franchise’s identity is not so much tied to genre as theme: zombies, viruses, very ugly monsters. Now, with Requiem, we have its first proper chimera, mixing the first-person horror of the latest installments with the fan-favorite action of Resident Evil 4.

Along with this are two playable characters that embody these two very different styles, with beloved Leon S. Kennedy returning as a middle-aged action hero alongside newcomer Grace Ashcroft. The pair come together for a Resident Evil that seamlessly shifts between tone and view to create yet another terrifying evolution for the franchise.

Requiem sees Grace, an FBI analyst, investigating a series of strange murders. All the victims are survivors of the 1998 Raccoon City Incident, the inciting event that’s central to much of Resident Evil’s history. Grace’s section begins in 2026 in a burnt-down hotel encased in a rainy urban environment, which reminded me of the cold, wet horror of David Fincher’s Seven. She navigates the dark hotel, armed only with a flashlight, before realizing she is not, in fact, alone. She soon finds herself in the hands of the main villain, Dr. Victor Gideon.

The game lets you swap between first- and third-person views, but also recommends a particular view for each character. Much like the two previous entries, Biohazard and Village, Grace’s section is designed with a first-person viewpoint in mind. With her limited ammo and inventory space, low health, and tiny frame, Grace is this game’s unprepared horror protagonist, surrounded by enemies who can often kill her in one or two hits. Grace has to prioritize hiding, using one-off but powerful weapons and gadgets, and fleeing. Playing this in first-person helps articulate her vulnerability.

Soon I was controlling Leon (who looks much worse for wear since his last appearance in Resident Evil 6, a game everyone, including me, pretends does not exist). Leon arrives near the hotel after Grace, and he’s soon killing zombies in the middle of a public street, giving chase to Gideon. It is rather unnerving watching Dr. Gideon shoot needles into innocent passersby as he escapes, quickly creating zombies. Leon’s sections are much like Resident Evil 4: third-person action, with melee prompts and a new ax weapon. Despite being in his 50s, Leon remains an efficient killing machine: As with his abilities in Resident Evil 4, Leon has melee and instant kills, with incredible animations and satisfying gore gushing from successful takedowns. There has never been this much gore caused by a Resident Evil protagonist; it’s glorious to watch him paint rooms red.

It’s remarkable how seamlessly the game shifts between perspectives. If you have ever watched videos showing what first-person games look like from a third-person perspective, you will know things are… different. For example, when Grace opens a creepy cupboard, the game wants to show you a disgusting mass with ooze. The animation for her arms, the angle you view it from, and more will differ if you’re watching it from a first or third-person perspective. Incredibly, Requiem has achieved this fidelity for both angles at any time. It’s truly masterful work by Capcom. 

There is no optional character switching, however. You will simply find yourself playing Grace or Leon based on where you are in the story. For example, after playing as Grace for an hour, navigating very creepy hallways and avoiding a large monstrosity known only as the girl, she ends up being saved by Leon. The game then cuts back to show how Leon got the point of saving her. Later, when Grace is separated from Leon, you take over as Leon and give her covering fire from a sniper’s nest.

You cannot predict when you will play as either character, but most of the first half of the game is in the shoes of Grace, with Leon’s sections notably shorter; by the time I crossed the halfway mark, the game put Grace on the back burner for a very long time.  

The mashup works surprisingly well, as it feels like the style of play reflects the characters and their particular story. Leon just could never be afraid, underprepared, or ill-suited to the horror around him by this stage in his story. Even with his bare hands, he is a formidable fighter, and remains the lovable weirdo from Resident Evil 4. His sections are refined, tight combat sequences; at one point you can even block a rocket with an ax.

Grace is another story. Despite being an FBI analyst, she looks like a very small teenager. While I appreciate that her being unprepared adds to the horror, nothing portrayed her as a criminal analyst or FBI agent. Indeed, her being a lonely college student would have made more sense, as nothing in any part of the story demonstrated any abilities. Her backstory, which I won’t spoil here, is also underwhelming, and discovering why she is so important to the all-powerful villains left me rolling my eyes. While she felt good to play and embodied vulnerability, her constant sniveling and delivering lines with a whimper became very jarring. Thankfully she shows some growth toward the end of the game.

The environments and scenarios are also wonderfully varied, throwing you from a creepy hospital-like area to the bombed-out remains of Raccoon City Police Department — also known as Leon’s origin story. It was quite emotional returning, as the original Resident Evil 2 was the first big-budget game I got in the 2000s. Leon and I were somewhat aligned in taking a breath before opening those doors. I chuckled as 50-year-old Leon commented on puzzles and items he dealt with nearly 30 years ago, which returning players will appreciate. 

The series’ enemies have also continued to evolve beyond just the shambling undead. My favorites were the new partially sentient zombies who retain some semblance of humanity — a cook keeps chopping decaying meat in the kitchen, a cleaner keeps rubbing a stained mirror and bashing her face, a hotel guest nursing a hangover keeps turning a light on and off. Grace can use these tics to her advantage when trying to escape them; for example, with the light-switcher zombie, you can turn on a light farther down a corridor to get him to move. 

Leon and Grace’s journey centers around what they believe is tracking down the last strain of the zombie virus that upended the world. I can safely say that the ending I got was one of the most satisfying conclusions to any Resident Evil game — and Requiem is a fitting name. This newest installment brings together two of the franchise’s heavy hitters — Resident Evil 4 and the first-person horror of Biohazard and Village — and at just under 11 hours, it doesn’t overstay its welcome, either.

Over the years, Resident Evil has shown that it can be many different types of horror — and Requiem proves that the series can pull it all off in one single experience.

_{Resident Evil Requiem launches on February 27th on the PS5, Xbox, Switch 2, and PC.}

Colonialism is not merely about occupying nations. It’s a project of mass violence, part of which involves total erasure and the widespread theft of some of the most culturally significant artifacts in the world. Even today, colonizing nations proudly display stolen artifacts, acting as peacocking robbers under the guise of tourism. See, for example, the British Museum’s continual hold of the Egyptian Rosetta Stone, the so-called Benin Bronzes, and the Ethiopian Maqdala collection. Colonized nations have sought to reclaim their stolen culture.

But what happens when kind requests and diplomatic maneuvers are not only insufficient but undeserving of the ongoing crime? This is where the fantasy of the moral heist comes in — and no game has done it better than Relooted. 

Developed by South African studio Nyamakop, Relooted focuses on a group of lovable, albeit unprofessional, Johannesburg-based thieves from different African countries. They have a singular goal: Reclaim from colonizer nations what was stolen from Africa. Playing as the frontwoman Nomali, a world-class parkour athlete, you help start this ragtag group inspired by her grandmother, a history professor. The game is an Africanfuturist (as opposed to Afrofuturist) 2.5D heist-’em-up platformer,  sending Nomali and her team around the Global North, infiltrating museums, private collections, and banks to take back legendary but stolen artifacts. 

Once acquired, the team anonymously seeks to deposit them in the the Museum of Black Civilisations in Senegal. What I found surprising was that the museum, like every artifact, is in fact entirely real.

In mission briefings in your Batcave-like base, you get a genuine short history lesson on the artifact and, through it, Africa’s colonized past. For example, did you know the modern Republic of Benin, a West African nation, and the historical and powerful Kingdom of Benin (which reached its peak in the 15th century), located in what is now Nigeria, are different? Legendary masks of this kingdom were looted by colonizers and not returned, held by, among others, the British Museum.

In the fictional world of Relooted, this is precisely where Nomali and her crew come in. If the nations that profited off theft and stolen labor won’t return the artifacts, then Nomali and co. will simply take them back. They’re benevolent thieves; the team doesn’t make a profit and only will only steal what was previously stolen. As a lawyer, I have qualms, since in most legal systems theft of even your own property is still theft — you cannot break into your robber’s home to reclaim your phone, for example. But as someone whose ancestors were colonized by the British in India before moving to a British-occupied South Africa, this was deeply fulfilling and morally wholesome. 

Every mission sees you scouting the level for robot guards, exits, and additional artifacts. You discuss this with your team, each of whom provides a different skill that is itself a mechanic in the game: Your brother is a locksmith who can break into doors or safes, while another team member is a professional acrobat who can use Batman-like skills to reach impossible areas. After scouting, Nomali is then tasked with retrieval of the artifact(s). 

However, you must also make sure of your exit. This is the most exciting part for me, as it requires you to plan your escape route before setting off the alarm. After Nomali snags the object, you must then follow a perfect route out without getting caught by chasing drones. You can also plan to steal a few artifacts, meaning you need to be clever about which item to steal first; it could be that the item closest to the entrance is in fact not the best first option, as it is awkwardly placed. Careful planning and running through the route, placing your teammates in the right areas, all leads to a clockwork-like heist that would make Arsène Lupin proud. 

The game is a cerebral platformer, a satisfying mixture of brains and twitch responses. You feel the exhilaration of a fast chase, as well as the satisfaction of a well-considered exit plan with the coordinated efforts of your teammates, when executed properly and all artifacts are in tow.

The stages are varied, sometimes not using the names as we know them now. For instance, the US is known as “the Shiny Place,” depicted as a mixture of Las Vegas and New York, with more cyberpunk aesthetics. Another is a European mansion, home of a “collector,” depicted in dark, rain-drenched cobblestone streets and with creepy paintings haunting cold brick walls. Stages usually last between five to 10 minutes, unless you repeat them due to a faulty plan or execution. 

Repetition does set in, despite a wider story eventually unfolding. There’s only so much variety when dealing with 2D stages and limited mechanics, but the game does not wear out its welcome. The graphics are quite dated; though it is attempting to look like a Pixar film or other modern animation productions, character faces are flat and dialogue animations look stiff and basic.

However, parkour animations are fluid, and the colors and world are vibrant. Nomali felt great to control, especially when you get into a “flow” of parkour movement. This is heightened by an incredible soundtrack from composers Nick Horsten and Dustin van Wyk, which is able to both soothe as ambience and pump up for the action set pieces. Using a mixture of electronic and traditional instruments, the soundscapes capture the Africanfuturistic theme as well as the ’80s James Bond espionage aesthetics for our sneaky thieves. 

Relooted is very special to me as a South African. Not only is it made by South Africans, but it centres on a pan-African group, working together for a common goal of reclaiming what was stolen by colonial occupiers. Ugandan scholar Yusuf Serunkuma cites one calculation that puts the loss Africa experienced through colonization between 1960–2010 at an estimated $152 trillion. To think of where my country and continent would be today were it not for the enormous theft and exploitation makes me continually angry. Even today, African citizens still have to visit former colonizer nations to view their own history.

Relooted serves as a fine and righteous outlet for the moral rage at the unfairness and unjust occupation and horror experienced by this continent, and fulfills double roles as a history lesson and fun heist platformer. Here’s hoping more people discover just how bloody and unfair African history really was — and how wonderful, beautiful, and inspiring our continent and its people remain.

_{Relooted is available now on the Xbox and PC.}

We are saturated with superhero media to the point where even self-criticism has been done to death with franchises like Watchmen and The Boys. But with its debut choice-driven narrative adventure, AdHoc Studio has managed to find a unique angle for the superhero genre.

In Dispatch, the story focuses on an office-based lackey and corporate manager of said superheroes, rather than the heroes themselves. This is a beautifully animated, episodic choice-driven narrative adventure, very much drawing from the team’s history at Telltale Games. So far, only two of eight episodes have been released, with two more launching every week through November 12th. However, be prepared for very little interaction in this interactive experience.

As the unfortunately named Robert Robertson III (played brilliantly by Aaron Paul), a down-on-his-luck hero without powers, you are a dispatcher for a superhero security company. Instead of cops or security guards, clients call the Superhero Dispatch Network (SDN) to assist in all manner of issues, from cats in trees to jewelry heists. Robert manages his own team of reformed supervillains, and it’s up to you to decide which of the misfits to send, based on their personal history and powers. Do you send the crypto-bro manbat to escort a celebrity, or the charismatic popstar with magic light powers? Do you send the stealthy ex-assassin or the girl who can turn invisible to infiltrate a robbery?

These are the quick choices you make when Robert sits for his first day on the job, after about an hourlong intro. Robert’s choices affect the outcome of the particular emergency, which, if successful, leads to heroes leveling up various attributes. These attributes — like combat and charisma — determine the outcome of a scenario. For example, you wouldn’t send the inarticulate fire superhero to an event that requires a good speaker. The scenarios pop up on his ’90s-era computer screen, much like short emergencies in a SimCity game. You never actually see any animation taking place during these scenarios, given Robert is deskbound and communicating solely via voice. However, having access to just the first two episodes has meant I’ve only dispatched twice, taking up about five to 10 minutes each time.

Outside of dispatch missions, most of the game involves dialogue and action choices, and quick-time events (though these can be turned off). Anyone who played Telltale’s iconic The Walking Dead will know the mechanics. However, this is one of the most restrictive narrative adventures I’ve played. You don’t even get to control Robert’s movements in terms of walking and talking. This is less a Monkey Island adventure and more Black Mirror’s Bandersnatch. This does seem to allow for consistently stunning and handcrafted animation, however, of a quality to match high-quality adult animated shows like Invincible and Arcane. Add to this a stellar cast — including the aforementioned Paul, there’s Laura Bailey, Jeffrey Wright, Travis Willingham, and others — and it really does feel like a high-budget show.

The downside is the limited consequences — at least early on. I played the two episodes a few times, given how brief each one is (the first episode took about 30 minutes), and made different choices to see just how different the outcomes would be. Barring a decision in a bar fight that either did or did not lead to a recurring character’s front tooth getting knocked out, very little of the game’s story changed. To be fair, I have no idea how late into the complete season the consequences will manifest. Several times a pop-up of “X will remember that” appeared, but only a few times did I see the outcome of that.

Related to these limitations are “combat” sequences — despite being quick-time events, the one I experienced had no differing outcome if you just left the buttons alone. You can turn quick-time events off, but even with them on, the outcome doesn’t change. I don’t know what point these quick-time events serve, whether on or off, which speaks to how on-rails and restrictive the game is.

The story begins with Robert, known as MechaMan, who pilots a giant suit of robot armor, tracking down his dad’s killer. His father, who was MechaMan before him, was murdered by a supervillain named Shroud. In an ensuing fight, the suit is destroyed and Robert is left with nothing. He is soon recruited by an actual superpowered superhero, Blonde Blazer, the most generic “hot blonde” hero you could imagine.

By contrast, the main character Robert is not at all generic: neither a grump nor entitled windbag. He’s determined, articulate, and thoughtful. He’s given the worst team to manage but takes it as a challenge rather than a slight. While you get to make choices, Robert’s character is very much set.

The game’s strength lies in its writing and characters. Without the restrictions of working with licensed characters, the developers are wonderfully creative with their heroes. I thoroughly enjoyed the brief interactions between and with the weirdos in spandex you are given. As a non-powered hero, Robert navigates them with both tension and annoyance but not fear. I am looking forward to seeing how relationships develop and with whom Robert bonds.

But for now I’m only cautiously optimistic about where Dispatch is going. Through the first two episodes — which barely take up two hours, and feature on-rails outcomes, limited interaction, and little idea of the actual plot — I am uncertain. I fell in love with the animation, the voice work, and the characters, but those are elements you can experience as a let’s play on YouTube. Now the game needs to show me why I should play rather than watch.

_{The first two episodes of Dispatch are available now on the PS5 and Steam.}

Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater seemed to be designed specifically for me, at first. I’ve played and loved nearly every entry of the Metal Gear Solid series, and the original MGS is one of my favorite games of all time. These weird, third-person stealth action games feature bizarre characters and scenarios that have lingered in my memories through a consistent mixture of intricate political espionage and ridiculous action sequences. The only entry that I never managed to play was Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. 

Delta is a modern remake of MGS3 that uses the same levels, cutscenes, voice lines, and performances, making it ideal for those who adored the earlier entries. Sadly, after hours of play, Delta often left me frustrated. You play as a more novice version of one of the series’ protagonists, Naked Snake, who is completely unequipped to deal with the scenarios before him. This makes sense from a story perspective, but it left me feeling as though I was playing with one hand tied behind my back. I also did not have the benefit of nostalgia to see me through this fog of annoyance. 

Despite its incredible visuals, this is not an overhaul to the extent of recent remakes like Resident Evil 4 or Silent Hill 2. This is an almost shot-for-shot remake of the original Snake Eater (to not complicate matters, we won’t discuss the many different versions of Snake Eater and which is the definitive version). This means that you’ll experience it with warts and all.

You can miss equipment at crucial stages and melee combat works when the game decides (I can hit flying creatures with a torch but I can’t stab a snake with a knife). Healing makes as much sense as reading tea leaves. I could not tell you how or why Snake manages to heal, despite there being an entire mechanic cleverly dedicated to counter broken bones, bullet wounds, and so on. Snake can use a lit cigar to rid himself of leeches or bandages to stop bleeding, but these do not improve health bars so much as stop them from degrading. I don’t know what raises his health bars.

The game’s structure is part of why it feels dated. The levels are broken up by frequent loading screens that show how small they really are, making me feel like I was moving from one tiny fake set to another, rather than navigating a dense jungle. To be fair, that is how the original game works and, as noted, this is not a bottom-up remake. Nevertheless, these small levels feel at odds with the modern visuals.

I have no problem learning a game’s systems through trial and error, especially when loading is lightning fast (the PS5’s SSD has no doubt saved many a potential broken controller). But I felt constantly unprepared in Delta. The early hours saw me frequently reloading a level due to a sudden introduction of landmines, a distinct inability to see or detect enemies, and uninspired boss fights. These all threw me off and made me roll my eyes when I had to come back. The game and I were just not clicking. The versions of Snake I saw in cutscenes felt like a different character in my useless hands during gameplay.

To be clear, Snake feels incredible to control, akin to the Snake in 2015’s Metal Gear Solid V: Phantom Pain, the most recent entry in the series. He responds immediately to controls, directional movements are twitch perfect, and shooting and fighting felt, well, solid. It was also lovely to hear Snake’s English voice being performed by series original David Hayter, whose over-the-top action hero growling once again works perfectly. His performance straddles the line between the ridiculousness of B-grade action flicks and the slick, big-budget productions of a John Wick film. 

Snake does eventually start growing his large arsenal of gadgets and weapons, and learning when and how to use these various gadgets does prove to be part of the joy of the game. But I never felt like I truly understood how and when to use the various gear, which ranges from a weird sonar detector to a crocodile helmet.

For example, moving through a base near water means you could don a crocodile helmet pretending to be said animal, until you find a ledge, climb on top, and quietly deal with various guards. However, despite wearing the helmet, I was immediately spotted in one instance, bringing a whole level of enemies on top of me. Another area required me to sneak into a base, but it was surrounded by an electric fence and landmines, which proved impossible to spot because I had missed out on a landmine detector earlier in the game.

Until I obtained thermal goggles, spotting enemies was a nightmare. I found some success by using the game’s remarkable camouflage system (which allows Snake to wear different outfits and body paint to blend into the immediate environment) that renders him almost invisible to enemies. This meant, if I stumbled on an enemy, I had a higher chance of not being immediately spotted.

The game calls for slow, methodic movement in terrain that can prove hostile, with aforementioned mines, poisonous animals, guard dogs, and so on all trying to find ways to kill you. The game felt more like a collection of puzzles than fully realized environments like in past games, and this structure just never clicked with me.

The story did, however. It is a delightfully convoluted mess that anyone who has played a Metal Gear game will expect. Snake has been sent to a remote jungle location during the Cold War to stop a Very Big Machine from nuking the world. High-ranking government officials from Russia and the US are vying for power but prove vulnerable to some powerful military offshoot who is trying to take control. There’s backstabbing, twists, and the usual reflection on war, technology, conquest, and the horror of power. Series creator — and the original Snake Eater’s director and writer — Hideo Kojima has been obsessed with these themes for decades. It was actually touching to see his name in the credits and displayed prominently, despite his infamous fallout with Konami.

Without the benefit of nostalgia, my perspective — that is, someone who is experienced with all the other Metal Gear games but has not touched this one — puts me in a weird space. The gorgeous visuals and eccentric story make it appear like a perfect fit for me. But Delta left me feeling frustrated in its (deliberately designed) helplessness and old-school structure. It left me wanting to be anywhere else rather than in the jungles with that beloved weirdo Snake.

_{Metal Gear Sold Delta: Snake Eater launches on August 28th on the PC, PS5, and Xbox.}

With FBC: Firebreak, Remedy Entertainment has entered the world of the first-person co-op shooter. Set in its Control universe — specifically the site of the first game, the brutalist nightmare office called the Oldest House — players control a member of the titular three-person team of the Federal Bureau of Control (FBC), tasked with addressing various containment breaches. Unfortunately, all the aspects that make Remedy’s worlds so intriguing are completely absent in this bare-bones co-op shooter, which offers nothing for either longtime fans or those invested in existing shooters.  

Players in Firebreak are like firefighters or disaster responders, with each member occupying a different role: mechanic, water carrier, electrician. Across five recurring levels, teams must work to stop the spread of corruption, called the Hiss (a mysterious red entity that turns people into raging zombies and other types of creatures). Objectives vary from destroying Post-it notes to fixing fans, all while being assailed by swarms of various nightmare monsters.

Control, the central foundation of Remedy’s wider connected universe that also includes Alan Wake, is at its core weird. It’s how Remedy developers have described it — to me and others — allowing for fluctuations between the terrifying, the quirky, the odd, and the hilarious. The Bureau itself is a government agency tasked with containing bizarre items and reacting to huge and strange world events: for example, a traffic light that, when it flashes red, sends people to different locations, or a fridge that eats people if you stop looking at it.

In Remedy’s universe, FBC workers document, monitor, and research these sorts of items with the gray-faced enthusiasm of every bored researcher. The number of times the toy duck teleports needs to be logged as much as how many coffee filters need to be replaced in the break room.

That stone-faced reaction to the weird is only mildly present in Firebreak, with brief interactions with mission provider Hank Wilder, the security chief, detailing bizarre tasks in a slight monotone. Even player character barks demonstrate this. One of the player voice options is called “Pencil Pusher,” who, when receiving friendly fire, screams that such actions “violate office policy.” Health restoration involves characters huddling in a shower together; you can fix equipment by hitting it with a wrench.

As someone obsessed with Control, I was eagerly anticipating a return — particularly in the shoes of ordinary personnel, rather than the almost godlike head of the agency, Jesse Faden (who you play in Control). But that sense of unease that plays off the quirkiness is not here. The Oldest House and its enemies feel like little more than an aesthetic, or even a kind of mod, for a generic co-op shooter. There is no sense of progression, no overarching goal to which you are working. Levels and tasks repeat. There aren’t even creepy big-level bosses, like the terrors in Control, except in one area. 

You will have seen all the game has to offer within a few hours, since each level has only three or four stages (with each successive stage in the same level taking you further in), and some stages can be completed within three to four minutes. As an example, one stage involves destroying replicating Post-it notes. Once you have destroyed a sufficient number, you rush back to the elevator as a horde descends. The second stage requires the same objective, only this time you gain access to a second area to destroy more notes. The third stage repeats this, only you go further in and face a boss. All end with rushing back. 

While the game offers modifiers — such as harder enemies and corrupting anomalies that can slightly keep you on your toes — the core aspect wears out quickly. I do not feel I am making any headway in clearing out an entire level, since once cleared, there’s no indicator our team made any difference. The only incentive is to obtain better gear. At least the game doesn’t push microtransactions and is quite generous in its rewards, especially on harder difficulties. 

You also level up various roles independently: playing mainly as the mechanic, you will have to start from scratch if you switch to, for example, the electrician role. These roles do feel distinct, as you are given different gear and abilities. The mechanic can almost instantly repair broken equipment, a very useful skill given how many broken machines there are. But the game is filled with various hazards, such as fire and gunk, which the water soaker character — with their water cannon — can negate. 

Shooting feels good, but guns are standard: shotguns, machine guns, pistols. Don’t expect weird weapons like the Service Weapon from Control. This is meat-and-potatoes destruction.

That’s precisely what disappointed me: ordinary workers in a world where fridges eat people is what made me love Control, and the idea of being able to play one of the lowly workers was exciting. Yet that charm is largely absent. I barely felt part of the FBC and it didn’t seem like I was containing anything.

In Control, you would clear rooms and see the game world change permanently. Obviously a co-op shooter can’t do things in the exact same way. But why not tie something like this to the host player? If I have to see the same level three times, progressing further each level, why not show some permanent change from a previous run? There’s no indication the world is reacting to the Firebreak team’s efforts.

In reality, Firebreak feels like one of the multiplayer modes that used to be tacked on to big-budget single-player games (think Mass Effect 3, for example). If players don’t feel like they’re making a difference as part of a team trying to stop an outbreak, why should we bother? The levels are akin to hero-shooter arenas, devoid of the deep lore of a Remedy game. At least with hero shooters, playing against other people keeps play constantly fresh. This felt like it was stale within a few hours, an avocado of a game.

I genuinely don’t know who Firebreak is for. Longtime fans of Control won’t find collectibles, environmental storytelling, or anything to even read. And those looking for meaningful multiplayer shooters have plenty of options already. This is a strange dim light for a studio that usually produces brilliance.

_{FBC: Firebreak is available now on the PC, PS5, and Xbox Series X / S. It’s also available for Game Pass and PlayStation Plus subscribers.}

After a year, Finnish studio Remedy Entertainment has opened the gates to a mysterious location in the 2023 third-person horror hit Alan Wake 2, known as The Lake House. In this short DLC, released just in time for Halloween, players step into the shoes of Kiran Estevez, the long-suffering agent of the mysterious Federal Bureau of Control we meet in the main game, who allies with Alan Wake 2’s protagonists, Alan Wake and Saga Anderson. Set before the events of Alan Wake 2, The Lake House sees Kiran recounting a horrifying event at the titular location to Saga, yet the plot is almost firmly removed from the main game itself.

This is both a boon and a curse, depending on what you were looking for. But as a bridge to the continuation of Remedy’s grand connected universe narrative — which also includes the supernatural thriller Control — it’s ideal. Instead of waving goodbye to Alan and Saga, Remedy is extending a hand to take us on its next weird journey.

Kiran is investigating a research station, where FBC researchers, doctors Jules and Diana Marmont and their teams, are looking into the effects of Cauldron Lake. In Remedy’s lore, there is a connection between the power of creating “art” and the power of otherworldly forces to misuse such gifts.

The Marmonts are experimenting on a painter, Rudolf Lane, who some might remember from the main game. Lane’s creativity has a tendency to illustrate — and possibly create — the future, much as Alan’s writing did. (God forbid those two ever make a comic book together.) I won’t spoil what the Marmonts did, save to say they were monsters long before any otherworldly forces came into the frame. Regardless, the Lake House is suddenly cut off and unresponsive to FBC HQ, resulting in Kiran investigating with a small team. 

Remedy has been playing with a connected universe since Control, and the Lake House is a firm bridge backward and forward to that story. Of course, being an Alan Wake DLC, players can expect the solid third-person survival horror of the main game. 

The Lake House, as a setting, is as unnerving as most of the spaces in Alan Wake 2. However, there’s more of a focus on the brutalist and office-space aesthetics from Control, without the outside or natural environments that dominated about half of the main game. In the eerily quiet office spaces, there are visual wonders like looping hallways and rooms of infinite typewriters, which have been programmed to “write” like Alan Wake. 

That last quirk appears to be a clear jab by Remedy’s writers at AI slop, with a page of Alan’s real writing saying, “The art was not art. Just content for the experiment.” Indeed, the whole thesis of The Lake House is the misuse of art for the acquisition of some end product, rather than relishing in the beauty art can create. This is all the more obvious when you figure out who the villain is and who has created the new terrifying humanoid paint beasts that slither out of the walls. Remedy is not subtle in its disdain for the corporatization of creativity, the reconfiguration of art into a harvest field of bland capitalistic fervor. There’s no love lost and much hate gained in the Lake House’s story, outlining the interaction between artistic freedom and corporate control: a golden hand wrapped around imagination’s throat.

To say too much about this already short game would spoil it, so I won’t go into detail about the clever set pieces that would feel right at home in Control. Let’s just say, light switches and motels make a welcome return, as does a familiar and powerful character. 

Kiran, unfortunately, does not mechanically demonstrate any prowess fighting otherworldly beings, despite her years as an FBC agent. She plays no different to Saga or Alan Wake, once again using a flashlight to whittle down enemies’ shadowy armor before unloading a satisfying number of bullets into their bodies. There is also only one new enemy type: the aforementioned long-limbed painting creatures who can only be destroyed with a new weapon Kiran discovers late in the story. 

I would’ve liked some new ability or mechanic that demonstrates her years of experience in dealing with the weird. Instead, this is relegated to her interactions with the odd object / entity, being able to quickly control her fear, and knowing how to deal with recurring “items” Control veterans like myself know all too well. 

Much of the joy of the Lake House is discovering what occurred and experiencing the few floors for yourself. The DLC takes about two hours to complete. But in that short span of time, it made for not only a satisfying send-off of one of my favorite recent games but also a bridge back into the world of Control.

All signs seem to indicate Remedy will be taking the grand plot of this connected universe to an almost apocalyptic level. We can probably expect to see plenty of returning characters, including Kiran herself, as Remedy steers us through its creepy weird lake of stories.

The Lake House expansion for Alan Wake 2 is available now.

In a world terrorized by gods, Flintlock: The Siege of Dawn sees you step into the vengeful boots of Nor Vanek — armed with a cutlass, a flintlock, and a tiny magic god. The steampunk, open world of Kian needs saving as the armies of the dead flood from a magical doorway. But despite some clever ideas, an intriguing cast with excellent performances, and varied environments, this third-person souls-“lite” action RPG can’t escape the trappings of a clearly limited budget and lack of polish — which is a shame because it could’ve been an excellent way into the genre.

Players are thrust into the shoes of Nor during a battle that looks like it’s straight from both World War I and every generic dark fantasy. There are soldiers in uniform, with muskets and flintlocks, firing at zombies pouring out from some strange gateway in the distance. There are trenches and barbed wire, helmets on infantry, and medals on generals, while magical beings tear apart Nor’s comrades. 

While the game does an acceptable job of introducing you to its mechanics, it does absolutely nothing when it comes to the setting. Even now, I cannot tell you much about the world. I can’t even tell you what “gods’’ are, aside from the fact that you are tasked with killing them.

Kills earn Nor reputation points that linger like “souls” or Bloodborne’s Blood Echoes. However, unlike soulsborne games, you can immediately claim the reputation. If you do not claim the reputation, you bolster a multiplier, which exponentially increases how much reputation you then earn, through each subsequent kill. However, if you’re hit even once, you lose it all. It’s a brilliant risk-reward system, balancing the unfairness of losing everything against the safety of immediate usage. You can use reputation points on upgrades, to purchase items, and so on.

The combat is fast-paced, like the new God of War games, allowing Nor to use a variety of melee weapons, her flintlock, or a sniper rifle on the fly. She also gains access to magic after she meets an adorable god called Enki. He is in the shape of a cute fox with a soothing voice and wants to assist Nor in her goal of defeating the other gods. Like God of War, you have a constant companion, with whom Nor exchanges charming dialogue, commenting on the world or situation. Their relationship grows from one of distrust to friendship and proved the golden thread for me throughout the experience. 

With Enki as both the source of magic and a wielder himself, combat turns into a balletic foray into weapon usage, dodging, and spells. Unfortunately, unlike soulsbornes or God of War, the animations are stiff and do not feel responsive. Fluidity and timing are key in such games, and the lack of polish isn’t merely “nice to have” but essential, given the split-second decisions and sense of flow constitutive of these experiences. This is especially felt in boss or miniboss fights, or against larger enemies, where their stiff animation is readily apparent. 

The game is also cursed by repetition: similar enemies resulting in similar fights, with only the background changing. Dying and respawning alongside enemies is of course a key staple of soulsborne games, but enemy variety helped undermine sterility. Flintlock does not really have this. 

The lack of polish is most damning here. You can see it in the game’s dated graphics, even if the designs remain creative. Stiff animations are compounded by faces that lack expression. The environments — ranging from snowy mountains to rock lands, deep caves to magic arenas — are varied, but it’s hard to ignore the ugly textures, poorly drawn nature, and questionable lighting. 

It’s a pity because the game relies a lot on dialogue and interaction with NPCs. For example, Nor travels initially with her surrogate father Baz (with the iconic voice of Elias Toufexis). He’s a merchant and smith of sorts who assists Nor in her travels, having injured himself in an initial foolish raid that led to many soldiers’ deaths. But, due to the poor character details, it was often hard to tell his emotions and feelings. The voice acting did all the lifting. 

The frustration also rests with how the game communicates information. Those of us who suffer through FromSoftware games are used to obfuscation. However, those games don’t rely on dialogue, as they do not even feature a voiced protagonist (unless you count your choice of screaming and ignoring Sekiro for now). But Flintlock drips in dialogue, yet provides no background, introduction, or setup that allowed me to understand who Nor is or what the fight is about. 

Much of that can be conveyed through well-designed cutscenes, with silence and expression doing a lot of work as with Kratos and Atreus in the new God of War. But, because Flintlock does not have that level of polish, we are denied that. Cutscenes are generally spartan and devoid of frills, simply guiding you from one area to the next.

I felt like I was playing the sequel to a game that had introduced me to this world and these characters. Like I’d opened up to a late chapter in a thick fantasy book, without a glossary.  While it was wonderful uncovering the weird world of Kian, I still felt detached from it. 

I did love that Nor and Enki’s journey to defeat the gods does tangibly change the world. Villages can be rescued from bandits and others, returned — in the blink of an eye, with zero cutscenes — to the people. This opens up merchants and quests. Nor can also recruit NPC who provide permanent bonuses and equipment on her quest. 

Flintlock makes for a comfortable introduction to the intimidating soulsborne genre and even creates its own unique spin with its risk-reward mechanic. However, I am hesitant to outright recommend it, given its lack of polish and repetitive play. Its varied environments and the central relationship between Nor and Enki deserve praise, but it doesn’t quite stick the landing for veterans of such action RPGs, let alone for newcomers.

Flintlock launches July 18th on PlayStation, Xbox, and PC.

The sea is basically the blue skin of the world, yet we know so little of its depths. Much like the vastness of space, it is filled with mystery. With both comes the unknown — and, therefore, horror. In Still Wakes the Deep, the latest first-person horror from The Chinese Room, the sea births a mysterious terror that takes over an oil rig, and its workers must fight to survive.

Somewhere in the middle of the ocean, players are introduced to protagonist McLearly, a Scottish oil rig’s troublesome electrician. From the beginning, I was incredibly impressed by the voice acting, writing, and performance. Most of the crew are Glaswegians, who use colloquial terms and slang, which the game warns can be “translated” by turning on subtitles. McLearly (Alec Newman, who plays Cyberpunk 2077’s Adam Smasher and Divinity: Original Sin 2’s Beast, among others) is a very likable protagonist. When we first meet him, he’s fired for causing an onshore brawl that’d led police to the rig, much to his boss’s dismay. As he’s leaving via chopper, the rig strikes something — or something strikes the rig — far below the surface.

From there, everything turns to chaos, as bioluminescent tentacles and large leaves that look like seaweed begin covering the entire rig. But when it interacts with humans, it subsumes them, turning into horrific monsters out of John Carpenter’s The Thing.

McLearly must use his skills as an electrician to navigate his way out of the nautical nightmare. Environmental puzzles — involving turning levers and wheels, putting out fires, and pushing and pulling in the right sequence — make up the majority of your time, all the while the rig is groaning and coming apart and the screams of turned friends and colleagues echo through the metallic hallways.

The game is, at times, wonderfully terrifying, and I was impressed by the creature designs. Friends who you meet early in the game now scream and belt out threats and concerns they had while fully human, their flesh permanently tethered to the growing alien menace that has taken over the rig. (It’s never explained what the menace or monster or virus is, only that it comes from the sea.) When you’re stuck in these hallways with the monsters, McLearly can only hide, throw objects, and sneak past. There’s no combat and insta-death, which can prove somewhat frustrating. You’re never certain when or where a monster will hear you, and the game seems to have a very strict, internally consistent idea of how to succeed in cat-and-mouse levels.

The game is incredibly tactile. Intuitive button mapping meant I always felt embodied in McLearly, from pulling levers to climbing to sliding down ladders. The developers have done an excellent job putting you in McLearly’s shoes, allowing you to see his entire body as he climbs and crawls. McLearly unscrews vents, grabs to pull himself through dark water, slips and slides, cries out, and swears when trying to take leaps. Aside from feeling like I embodied him, McLearly’s reactions to what he was doing also seemed like he was embodying me: taking a huge leap meant I sometimes swore and, hilariously, found McLearly shouting the same when he landed.

As with previous Chinese Room titles, the original orchestral score is bold and loud when you eventually hear it. But unlike Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture, where Jessica Curry’s score did so much to tell that story, here, it’s muted, with few waves of music rushing in. Much of the ambience comes from the rig collapsing, the sound of destruction serving as the music of annihilation rather than a powerful choir. Jason Graves (composer for Supermassive’s horror titles and The Order: 1886) does a good job here, even if it does not live up to Curry’s work. 

The oil rig itself is impressively detailed, with its lifelike textures and appropriate signage, old switch-operated phones, and realistic monitors. While you can’t interact with much of the world, it still feels lived in, a place people had occupied and made their own — especially when visiting individual crew’s quarters.

The level of detail, combined with excellent sound direction, really made me feel like I was in the rig. You will be forced to double back to areas, and your familiarity will assist in navigating a level: doors and passageways you walked through untouched are now blocked by debris, or your friend has turned into a giant, tentacled monster. I appreciated the developers’ strict focus on one specific location, with limited areas, allowing them to demonstrate slow destruction in a way that was tangible.

Though it doesn’t push the genre anywhere new, Still Wakes the Deep is a worthy addition to the horror canon — and further proof that the great void of the ocean is something I want to avoid.

Still Wakes the Deep launches June 18th on PS5, Xbox Series X / S, and PC.