a plague tale: requiem

This world hurts. And it keeps hurting. And you want to hurt it back. But it’s a fight you can’t win, Amicia.

A Plague Tale: Requiem is one of the most indelible horror games ever made. For most, that’s probably not the foremost sentiment that springs to mind. The genre is more readily associated with franchises such as Resident Evil and Silent Hill… Dead Space and The Evil Within and Outlast… games that readily traffic in nerve-jangling tension and panic-inducing jump scares… white knuckle sound design working in concert with atmospheres heavily choked with dread. And yet, few of these titles can rival the harrowing despair that A Plague Tale conjures, or the emotional trauma it inflicts on its underage characters (and, by extension, us). Most horror games bruise; A Plague Tale leaves scar tissue in its wake.    

A Plague Tale: Innocence, developed by Asobo Studio, was one of the great gaming surprises in recent years. It introduced intrepid heroine Amicia de Rune (one of the best protagonists in recent memory - the sort of character you’d willingly go through hell for… and unfortunately, you’ll pretty much have to), a teenager of noble birth in 14th-century France, who becomes a reluctant protector to her younger brother Hugo… his childhood spent in isolation due to a mysterious blood affliction known as the Macula, which appears to be inextricably linked to the hordes of plague-ridden rats terrorizing the countryside. Forced to flee after their home is raided by soldiers with the French Inquisition, Amicia embarks on a desperate quest to unravel the mysteries of Hugo’s illness as they’re relentlessly pursued by Grand Inquisitor Vitalis Benevent (a truly disreputable bastard), who hopes to harness Hugo’s powers for his own ruthless ends.

Control your flame, Protector. Others have burned in it. ​

The first game ended on a hopeful note (albeit one heavily suffused with ominous undertones), but that’s quickly scuppered as Amicia and Hugo - traveling with their mother Beatrice and alchemy apprentice Lucas - arrive at a town in Provence to start a new life and everything immediately and spectacularly goes to shit (let’s just say the Macula lying dormant in Hugo’s blood is stirred, and rats make an appearance. Many, many… many rats. So many rats). Skeptical that the Order - the shadowy league of alchemists headquartered in Marseilles - have her brother’s best interests at heart, Amicia makes the unilateral decision to strike off in search of the mysterious island of La Cuna that’s begun consuming Hugo’s dreams, teasing a potential cure. Along the way they acquire some new allies - including the world-weary mercenary knight Arnaud and saucy sea smuggler Sophia - as the two siblings endure countless trials and confront a destiny far darker than they could have imagined.

Unlike most sequels, which build on the groundwork laid by their predecessors, A Plague Tale: Requiem doesn’t offer a markedly different gaming experience… almost as if Asobo Studio quickly came to the realization that there was only so much potential evolution baked into the core gameplay. The pace and style remain extremely deliberate. Most of the action still revolves around eluding soldiers in large, stealth-based arenas (in which opting for violence is usually more trouble than it’s worth) and manipulating fire and other forms of light in order to navigate the massive swarms of rats that’ll devour Amicia and her companions whole if you so much as put a foot wrong (sometimes the two are even merged, offering an additional layer of challenge/strategic thinking - a carefully-deployed “extinguis" projectile can put out a soldier’s torch, gruesomely sealing his fate in half a heartbeat). An expanded suite of tools and abilities to unlock offer greater flexibility in approach, while combat’s distinctly meatier this time around… though the few sections in which Amicia is tasked with cutting down waves of advancing enemies often feel as if the game is playing against its strengths. Specific skills are directly tied to one’s playstyle (prudence vs aggressive, with opportunism falling somewhere in-between), which does encourage experimentation... even though stealth remains the most advisable course more often than not.​

Where Asobo Studio does strive to raise the bar is technically and narratively. Requiem (even at an increasingly out-of-favor 30 fps) looks fantastic - a genuine tour-de-force of art direction. The majesty and horrors of 14th century France are brought to life in equal measure… the splendors of La Cuna particularly compelling before dream inevitably curdles into nightmare (most horror games are singular in their tonal approach... but it's the moments of genuine happiness and emotional levity that allows A Plague Tale to wound so sharply). But the real processing muscle is flexed in service of the rats, whose disease-ridden reign of terror has been given a significant steroidal boost (if anyone who suffers from musophobia managed to get through the first game, this one will almost certainly leave them a spiritually crippled basket case). Thousands of red-eyed rodents pour onto the screen at any given time and serve as the foundation for some genuinely Naughty Dog-level AAA set pieces… such as when Amicia desperately flees through the streets of Provence as a literal tsunami of rats level the city to its very foundation, buildings and bell towers collapsing all around her as chunks of masonry and debris rain down spectacularly.

Best Performance at the most recent Game Awards was always going to go to Christopher Judge for Kratos in God of War Ragnarok - and not unreasonably - but Charlotte McBurney’s work as Amicia (with a healthy assist from Logan Hannan’s deeply endearing Hugo) is on a whole other level; a vocal portrayal frankly without peer this past year. McBurney infuses the character with such anguish and defiance and rage and sorrow and frustration - but also with a flame of inner hope that flickers and wanes and nearly gutters out, but won’t ever allow itself to be completely extinguished. “I’m Amicia de Rune… and I kneel to NO ONE,” she roars, in a moment that sends shivers reverberating through the controller. Some of the very best gaming experiences of the past decade have reaped the emotional benefits of constructing a campaign around a lead character and an ever-present NPC companion (see: Monkey & Trip in Enslaved; Booker & Elizabeth in Bioshock Infinite; Lee & Clementine in The Walking Dead; Kratos & Atreus in God of War; and of course, Joel & Ellie in The Last of Us)… and the sibling bond between Amicia and Hugo is as potent as any of them. ​

As impressive as A Plague Tale: Requiem is, it’s a difficult game to blitz through… between the methodical nature of the gameplay and the shroud of grim nihilism that hangs over everything - sometimes weighing as heavily as a lead vest. This is not a game one plays casually. Even though the 20-hour campaign is well-paced and tightly packed with narrative ambition, at times you almost wish you were getting slightly *less* bang for your buck… the last of the story’s sixteen chapters in particular is very much the equivalent of an ice pick repeatedly stabbing your heart with the systematic relentlessness of a pneumatic jackhammer. But then most horror games have a fleeting impact, much like the sudden adrenaline spikes they so fondly cultivate and hinge upon. A Plague Tale: Requiem cuts deeper than that. It makes you feel something. It leaves a mark on your soul.