The constant shift in perspective keeps the game feeling immersive
Three decades after Resident Evil first taught players to fear a hallway, Capcom returns with Requiem — a game that resists the temptation of nostalgia and instead earns its place in the canon on its own terms. Through two protagonists whose contrasting fears mirror the genre's own dual nature — dread and action, scarcity and spectacle — the franchise finds a way to honor its past without being consumed by it. It is a reminder that legacy, at its best, is not a museum but a living thing.
- A franchise at its 30-year mark risks becoming a monument to itself, but Resident Evil Requiem sidesteps that trap with a story dense enough to demand attention from the first scene to the last.
- The tension between Grace's survival-horror scarcity and Leon's action-driven sequences creates a constant, productive discomfort — just as one rhythm threatens to become routine, the game pulls the floor away.
- Multiple endings raise the stakes of every decision, giving players the unsettling sense that the story's shape is genuinely contingent on how they move through it.
- Minor technical artifacts — hair rendering glitches, occasional clipping — briefly crack the immersion, but never long enough to undo the world the game has so carefully constructed.
- Releasing February 27 across all major platforms, Requiem arrives not as a celebration of what the series was, but as a confident statement about what survival horror can still be.
Resident Evil Requiem is the latest mainline entry in a franchise that has spent thirty years defining survival horror, and it arrives with something to prove beyond mere anniversary fanfare. Capcom pairs returning series icon Leon Kennedy with new protagonist Grace Ashcroft, binding them to a mystery rooted in the Raccoon City incident — but the game never lets that mythology become a crutch. The story stands on its own, dense with reversals and personal stakes, and the presence of multiple endings gives every moment a genuine sense of consequence. Narrative tension rarely slackens, even when puzzles or combat might otherwise invite distraction.
The dual-protagonist structure is where the game finds its mechanical identity. Grace's sections are built around limitation — scarce resources, mounting vulnerability, the particular dread of realizing you are underprepared. Leon's sequences pivot toward action and momentum, shifting the emotional register entirely. The alternation is deliberate: each time one playstyle begins to feel familiar, the perspective changes, and the game resets its grip on the player. Neither character overstays their welcome, and the balance feels earned rather than formulaic.
Visually, Requiem is meticulous to the point of clinical precision — gore rendered in exacting detail, character models that register subtle physical responses like flushed skin or the accurate play of light on eyeglasses. Small imperfections exist: hair artifacts in bright light, occasional clipping in close-quarters combat. They are brief interruptions rather than lasting damage.
Thirty years in, Capcom has made a game that is neither a greatest-hits collection nor a reinvention, but something rarer — a confident, self-possessed entry that respects its lineage without being defined by it. Resident Evil Requiem releases February 27 across PS5, Xbox Series X/S, Nintendo Switch 2, and PC.
Resident Evil Requiem arrives as the latest mainline chapter in a franchise that has defined survival horror for three decades. Capcom's newest entry brings back Leon Kennedy, the series stalwart, and introduces Grace Ashcroft as a co-lead, tasking them both with unraveling a string of deaths connected to the Raccoon City incident that haunts the series' mythology. What emerges from this setup is not a nostalgic greatest-hits collection, but a game that stands firmly on its own merits while honoring where it came from.
The narrative itself is the game's greatest strength. Playing through on a base PS5 reveals a story dense with turns and reversals, layered with both the central mystery of the deaths and the personal demons each protagonist carries. The pacing never lets the story slip into the background—even during puzzle-solving and combat sequences, the momentum toward revelation remains taut. Survival horror games often struggle to maintain narrative tension across their full runtime, but Resident Evil Requiem resists that trap. The presence of multiple endings gives the story additional weight, suggesting that player choice and character perspective genuinely shape the outcome. There's a palpable sense of wanting to push forward simply to discover what happens next.
The dual-protagonist structure is the mechanical innovation that prevents the game from feeling stale. Grace's sections emphasize pure survival horror—careful resource management, the constant awareness of scarcity, the vulnerability that comes when you realize your preparations were insufficient. These moments build dread through limitation. Leon's sequences shift the tone entirely, pivoting toward action and tension rather than fear. The contrast is deliberate and effective. Just as one playstyle threatens to calcify into routine, the perspective switches. This constant recalibration keeps the game feeling unpredictable and immersive, and it allows the narrative to progress with more meaning than a single protagonist could provide. Neither character's sections overstay their welcome, and the balance between them feels considered rather than arbitrary.
Visually, the game is a technical showcase. The gore is meticulous—decapitations, dismemberment, blood splatters rendered with such detail that it becomes almost clinical in its precision. But the craft extends far beyond the visceral. Character models display remarkable subtlety: Grace's face reddens when held upside down, light reflects accurately in eyeglasses, wrinkles on hands catch the eye. Environments are rendered with similar care. The attention to these small details creates a world that feels inhabited and real, which paradoxically makes the horror more effective.
There are minor blemishes. Some hair rendering shows visible artifacts in brightly lit areas, and occasional clipping occurs when enemies stand too close during Leon's action sequences. Frame rates remained stable throughout the experience, but these small technical imperfections do briefly interrupt the immersion the game works so hard to maintain. They are, however, minor enough not to significantly undermine what Resident Evil Requiem accomplishes overall.
Thirty years into the franchise, Capcom has delivered a game that feels both respectful of its legacy and confident in its own identity. The story engages without relying on nostalgia, the dual protagonists create genuine gameplay variety, and the visual presentation sets a new standard for the genre. Resident Evil Requiem releases February 27 across PS5, Xbox Series X/S, Nintendo Switch 2, and PC. It stands among the best entries in the series and among the finest survival horror games available today.
Citas Notables
Resident Evil Requiem stands not only among the best Resident Evil games in this regard but among the best in the genre— Jake Brigstock, reviewer
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does having two protagonists with different playstyles matter so much here? Couldn't a single character just switch between horror and action modes?
Because it's not just mechanical—it's narrative. When you're Grace, you're experiencing her vulnerability, her specific fears. When you switch to Leon, you're in his headspace, his confidence. The game uses that shift to tell the story differently, not just to vary the gameplay.
So the story actually changes based on who you're playing?
The core mystery stays the same, but how you understand it, what you see, what you're afraid of—that shifts. Grace's resource scarcity isn't just a game mechanic. It's her reality. Leon's action focus isn't just faster pacing. It's his approach to the same problem.
You mentioned multiple endings. Does that mean the choices you make as each character matter?
It suggests they do. The game doesn't telegraph it, but the structure implies that who you are—Grace or Leon—shapes how things resolve. That's more sophisticated than most survival horror games attempt.
What about the technical issues you noted? Did they pull you out of the experience?
Only briefly, and only in specific moments. A hair artifact in bright light, some clipping during action. They're noticeable if you're looking for them, but they don't undermine the immersion the game builds so carefully everywhere else.
Is this a game that needed to exist, or does it feel obligatory?
It feels necessary. After 30 years, a franchise could easily coast on legacy. This one doesn't. It respects what came before but insists on having its own voice.