Resident Evil: Requiem Review 2

Few franchises in gaming have survived as many transformations as Resident Evil. From fixed-camera corridors to cinematic action, then to first-person terror, the series has reinvented itself time and again. Now, with Resident Evil: Requiem, Capcom returns to the roots of fear—trapped in the dark, hunted, and desperately human. It’s a confident, unnerving experience that feels both familiar and frighteningly new.

The story introduces Grace Ashcroft, an FBI technical analyst investigating a string of grisly murders at the Wrenwood Hotel, a decaying structure with a sinister legacy. For Grace, this is no ordinary case—it’s personal. The same place claimed the life of her mother years ago, and as she delves deeper into the mystery, the line between her trauma and the supernatural horrors surrounding her begins to blur. This personal, psychological lens is what sets Requiem apart from its predecessors. Rather than another tale of global bioterrorism, this is an intimate, character-driven descent into fear.

From the moment you enter the Wrenwood Hotel, Requiem makes one thing clear: terror is patient. The sound of floorboards groaning overhead, the flicker of dying lights, the faint echo of footsteps that don’t belong to you—every detail builds a suffocating tension. The hotel itself is practically alive, a maze of shadow and memory that mirrors Grace’s unraveling mind. It’s less about jump scares and more about an ever-present sense of dread, like being watched by something that’s always one step away.

Capcom’s use of the RE Engine has never looked better. The textures, lighting, and environmental detail create a stunningly realistic world, but one that never feels safe. Path-traced illumination gives rooms an eerie glow, and fog seeps through the cracks like something alive. Even the smallest objects—a child’s toy, a half-burned photo—tell silent stories of what’s been lost here. Every corner of Requiem feels crafted to unnerve, to lure you into complacency before pulling the rug out from under you.

Gameplay-wise, Resident Evil: Requiem strikes a remarkable balance between vulnerability and control. Grace isn’t a soldier; she’s resourceful but fragile. Ammunition is scarce, and confrontation is rarely the best option. Players must rely on stealth, evasion, and environmental awareness to survive. There’s a constant push-and-pull between fight and flight, and the fear of running out of options is as real as any monster in the game.

One of Requiem’s standout features is the ability to switch between first-person and third-person perspectives seamlessly. It’s more than a gimmick—it changes how you experience fear. First-person immerses you in claustrophobic terror, while third-person offers a broader view that feels closer to the classic Resident Evil formula. The two modes complement each other beautifully, giving players a sense of control over their fear—though never quite enough to feel safe.

The enemies you encounter in Requiem are not just grotesque—they’re unpredictable. The game features a central stalking creature, a relentless presence that hunts Grace throughout the story. It learns from your actions, forcing you to adapt on the fly. Some encounters feel almost cinematic in their intensity, yet Capcom ensures the gameplay always feels grounded. When Grace hides, you hold your breath with her. When she runs, you feel every heartbeat.

Narratively, Requiem is one of the most grounded Resident Evil entries in years. It leans heavily on psychological horror, exploring themes of guilt, loss, and the price of obsession. The story doesn’t bombard you with exposition; it unfolds through exploration—notes, echoes, and ghostly memories that fill the silence. Grace’s journey feels personal and tragic, echoing the best character work Capcom has done in decades.

If there’s one weakness, it’s pacing. The game’s slow-burn approach can test your patience early on, and some may wish for more variety in enemy encounters. Yet these moments of stillness also serve a purpose—they amplify the impact of every scare, every revelation. By the time the truth behind the Wrenwood Hotel is revealed, the emotional weight hits like a punch to the chest.

Resident Evil: Requiem isn’t just another sequel—it’s a statement. It reminds us that horror doesn’t need to be loud or relentless to be effective; it needs to be human. Capcom has crafted a world that feels lived-in, haunted, and heartbreakingly real. It’s a return to form that doesn’t just celebrate the past but builds on it, proving that the series still has plenty of nightmares left to share.