By Will Bishop
It’s been 30 years since the T-virus outbreak in Raccoon City. During the events of Resident Evil Requiem (RER), survivor, Leon S. Kennedy, must return to the crucible in which he was made in hopes of finding answers about The Umbrella Corporation’s curse. Forged in a trial by fire which rapidly mutated him from a remarkably brave rookie cop — who’s really, really hot — into a ludicrously badass superhero who can roundhouse kick someone’s jaw off of their face — who’s still really, really hot. But, Leon’s is not the only story being told here.
Enter Grace Ashcroft, a new addition to the Resident Evil (RE) roster. The series has long made its name by functioning as an inversion of the usual horror formula. In most horror media, ordinary individuals are placed in extraordinary circumstances and forced to then become extraordinary or face the penalty of death. In RE, you are playing as elite counterterror operatives, the president’s bodyguard — individuals uniquely and highly suited to deal with the extraordinary circumstances they find themselves in, yet still become entrenched in fear. In keeping with the last couple installments, Resident Evil 7: Biohazard and Resident Evil Village — both helmed by stubborn and perpetually bewildered everyman Ethan Winters — our new hero in RER is a regular person. Albeit an FBI agent, but a sedentary one surrounded by towers of files threatening to fall off her desk. Unlike Ethan, Grace is smart enough to be afraid.
The game is split between these two vastly different perspectives, both embodying unique design philosophies which permeate all aspects of their gameplay and the scenarios they face. Leon can stylishly obliterate an entire room full of zombies, and is highly incentivized to do so. Grace, on the other hand, must be careful, methodical, patient, seizing every advantage she can and avoiding conflict whenever possible.
In the game’s first half, the back and forth provided by a dual protagonist setup is absolutely ingenious. It essentially condenses the progression of an RE title to level sized loops of fear and catharsis. The series has always operated according to this paradigm, in the early game resources are scarce, your combat capabilities are limited, and even a small number of assailants can be an enormous threat. By the third act, you become a wrecking ball, armed to the teeth and massacring every grotesque abomination that comes your way. You are rewarded for your suffering and your fear. This often leads to the downfall of many RE games; as by the final act, all tension is out the window and you are simply cruising to the finish line, waiting to count the amount of eyeballs possessed by whatever G-virus flesh ball you’re squaring up with in the big showdown.
RER subverts this by shifting its power dynamic on a constant basis. Spend an hour making panicked runs back to the item box with Grace, chipping away at a level one hastily obtained item at a time in the vein of Resident Evil 2, then spend ten minutes with Leon, running through the same environment decapitating everything in sight with a hatchet in Resident Evil 4 fashion.
Rather than working against itself, this implementation of the fear and catharsis paradigm works brilliantly. Highlighting the strengths of its level design, resource economy and enemy placements while it’s in survival horror mode, then allowing itself to flex its best in class combat and myriad execution animations in action mode.
If there is one area where the game falters, it is in its failure to fully commit to this tag team approach for the entirety of the game. It never fully abandons it, but it never does it quite as well or with as much consistency in its second half. It continues to be a great game, but it stops feeling so clever. In a surprising turn, the main strength of the game over its back half is actually the narrative itself, which successfully weaves Grace and Leon’s stories together while telling a poignant story of regret, hope and motorcycle duels.
Will Bishop is a Cal Poly Humboldt journalism major. He is prone to writing essays about things that bother him, and fictional works about things that also bother him but in different ways. A highly bothered individual, and a lover of cinema, music, and large trees/rocks. He can often be found in the woods, dancing to bring down the sky.