I think it's important to note right away, assuming this account somehow at sometime becomes valuable to future scholars, that relative to the first game Requiem is a slog. Which isn't to say that it doesn't go, but this game is devout in its belief of more being good.
The story, or should I say plot, asks the least of this fervor for more because it mostly says what players of the first game already knew. The Boy is a menace, but The Sister loves him, and The Sister is also The Player Character, so The Boy must be saved. To both Innocence and Requiem's credit, the obviousness of the problem fails time after time to subsume the narrative. From a pointillist's perspective I'd eagerly argue Asobo Studio is wasting its time with this, but thanks to the fantastic imagination of their environmental artists and game designers these games - and this game in particular - are quite fascinating.
Being a video game, let's address that bit. This is a sequel to a game in which the main character primarily wielded a slingshot and some pots. The slingshot had to be charged and the pots couldn't kill, no matter their contents. At various moments Innocence tries to address this with a new elemental effect, a crossbow and even the critters by which it's predecessor demanded attention, unfortunately its DNA often demands at least one death animation if not a scramble towards guides that not only tell you to do what you've been doing but make it sound easier than serving a single scoop of ice cream.
The combat explicitly stank whenever it was highlighted by Innocence, and whatever satisfaction this sequel allows the player is often couched more in the conquering of sub-menus than the men their elementally infused rocks and pots allowed for. But Requiem seems to think otherwise, replacing typical boss fights with arenas upon which a mysterious number (imagine every enemy type you've seen prior to said arena - hell, imagine every enemy you might expect to see in said arena while collecting materials before you trigger their entrance) of enemies descend upon you ... and yet it does all build to this one conflict that feels all the more satisfying for the knowledge that makes it quickly become as manageable as it appears overwhelming. So maybe I insisted on being dense for too long.
(I had to edit this in after the fact so I'm making it parenthetical just in case, BUT: more than anything, I spent most of this game marveling at its lighting. Particularly later in the game when both story and setting can be very dark, Innocence is VERY dark. Some of the more open areas carry a Red Dead Redemption 2 level of verisimilitude as well. The motion capture, facial animation and general cinematography belies the studio's budget, but the objects those variables sometimes fail are ALWAYS stunning. Despite the many, many inspirations you can immediately recognize Asobo Team drawing from, their results are fascinating.)
Still, being a year in which so many sequels seemed to understand "more complicated" as "more interesting", A Plague Tale takes the crown. Horizon held its ground against the bloat, God of War sashayed its way through several game designers' ambitions and The Last of Us Part I shied away from reinvention period (I swear I played more than Sony first party games!) but this game is absolutely dense with, well, game.
The really neat thing about both of Asobo Team's Plague Tale games is that despite their ambitions they have no interest in ignoring the core of video games. Sometimes this makes some of their dramatic beats absolutely comedic, but then even in their storytelling Asobo seems eager to ask themselves "if we already did X, what the hell is Y?"
This game has seventeen chapters - and some of them aren't much more than walking and talking - yet Asobo finds a way at every turn to make the player feel like a part of the story their telling. In the press for Innocence it seemed like they loved to point at Uncharted and Brothers as frames of reference. But here they've realized what I felt the first game was straining to commit to: this is a story about blinding passion, unrealistic faith and absurd love.
I'd never say this Plague Tale sequel is a better game than The Last of Us Part II but I think it has a more intuitive understanding of what it means to manipulate the player into being a villain.
So here is where I'll say it: this game is full of likable characters, but only a madman could love them. I love the reasons why the eight or so main characters in this game are all incapable of recognizing the shadows they cast - that number comes off the cuff, so I'd like to note that Hugo is absolutely not included in that count - but it also makes for a wildly incongruous experience. For those who've played the first game, it should come as no surprise that every festival is a funeral, nor every companion a friend.
But when you recognize that early (or remember it from the first game) and catch what the chapter breaks are implying (like the first game) you can be gifted with this truly unique amalgamation of Resident Evil 4, whichever Wicker Man you please, The Last of Us and Rise of the Tomb Raider that is truly bizarre. Because environmental art costs what it costs so many games have chosen to either bask in the relatively cheap labor of the Philippines or cross their fingers that animation, art or - ugh - gameplay will dominate the trailers and criticism.
Like Innocence before it, Requiem spends all of its time finding new ways for you to use its tools. I found this took nearly half the game to get used to, as you spend most of the game with four interactions containing five (four?) modifiers selected via either one supremely dense weapon wheel or fully logical yet no less mystical hot buttons on the d-pad. I'd love to say that when I'd finally earned more capacity for crafting materials (the game doles out some core character progression based on, supposedly, your play style) I got more inventive during combat, but it's honestly impossible to enjoy this game's definition of conflict after playing Horizon, Elden Ring and God of War this year, let alone some rabbit in a hat like Ratchet & Clank: Going Commando.
Or, y'know, Resident Evil 4 or Last of Us Part II. The Last of Us Part I had this problem as well I suppose but the latter game really hammered home that just because the player/protagonist alerted some foes doesn't mean they can't just find the progression point and nope the fuck out. Requiem loves punishing a player who finds the exit before they've introduced death to whichever lumbering oafs know that door or hatch means asylum.
Anyway, yes, not always a great game! However, as I said before but couldn't possibly emphasize enough what this game aspires to be and what it is fascinates me. Without saying more than amounts to a sales pitch, this game imagines a world in which H.R. Giger were asked to dream about and then illustrate Ellie Williams (The Last of Us - don't worry, I had to look it up too) and Nathan Drake (Spider-Man's alterego) noshing s'mores and sharing each others' adventures.
But that's also barely this game at all! Despite some clear animation shortcomings this may be the best looking game of 2022, and despite a heavy dose of schlock this story worthy of being told by a game this year as well. I recognize this is particular to the Playstation 5's DualSense but there are two specific moments during the game's last five or so chapters where the combination of contextual rumble and trigger pull blew me away. Especially in the trigger's case, I'm talking about a situation anybody who's played a Naughty Dog game from Crash 2 onward would be familiar with. It's relatively rote, even bland, in description. Yet I was absolutely roped in, as though I'd never helped Nathan Drake scale a train before.
I don't have a full paragraph for this because ultimately I'm an idiot and even I could tell most of this game's puzzles were pretty elementary, but if the imperative was to create 17 (disclosure: yes, 17 chapters, but not all 17 carry the same weight) mutations of the previous game's puzzles, they both mildly succeeded at replicating the first game and spectacularly failed at making Naughty Dog's Portal 2. Said another way, it's fun to see these puzzles for what they are up to the point they refuse to be anything else, and then you're just stuck following a script you've never read, merely acted out wrongly over and over.
And I think that's ultimately where this franchise - franchise? - wins with me - the bit from the paragraph before the last! It isn't just that the first game was wildly propulsive and charming in its Cleveland-esque ambitions, nor that the second game satisfactorily delivers on the promises of said propulsion or ambition. This game's a bit of a mess at times (I'm not sure I said it just before so I'll make it plain now: the sling Amecia relies on might be cute and she may only be 15 but them blokes got iron helmets and chain mail) and from the vantage of a Goodyear blimp I think the real evil behind the rat infestation of 15th century southern France is clearly the player characters we puppeteered along the way...but I can't help but root for these kids.
Rats off to ya.
The story, or should I say plot, asks the least of this fervor for more because it mostly says what players of the first game already knew. The Boy is a menace, but The Sister loves him, and The Sister is also The Player Character, so The Boy must be saved. To both Innocence and Requiem's credit, the obviousness of the problem fails time after time to subsume the narrative. From a pointillist's perspective I'd eagerly argue Asobo Studio is wasting its time with this, but thanks to the fantastic imagination of their environmental artists and game designers these games - and this game in particular - are quite fascinating.
Being a video game, let's address that bit. This is a sequel to a game in which the main character primarily wielded a slingshot and some pots. The slingshot had to be charged and the pots couldn't kill, no matter their contents. At various moments Innocence tries to address this with a new elemental effect, a crossbow and even the critters by which it's predecessor demanded attention, unfortunately its DNA often demands at least one death animation if not a scramble towards guides that not only tell you to do what you've been doing but make it sound easier than serving a single scoop of ice cream.
The combat explicitly stank whenever it was highlighted by Innocence, and whatever satisfaction this sequel allows the player is often couched more in the conquering of sub-menus than the men their elementally infused rocks and pots allowed for. But Requiem seems to think otherwise, replacing typical boss fights with arenas upon which a mysterious number (imagine every enemy type you've seen prior to said arena - hell, imagine every enemy you might expect to see in said arena while collecting materials before you trigger their entrance) of enemies descend upon you ... and yet it does all build to this one conflict that feels all the more satisfying for the knowledge that makes it quickly become as manageable as it appears overwhelming. So maybe I insisted on being dense for too long.
(I had to edit this in after the fact so I'm making it parenthetical just in case, BUT: more than anything, I spent most of this game marveling at its lighting. Particularly later in the game when both story and setting can be very dark, Innocence is VERY dark. Some of the more open areas carry a Red Dead Redemption 2 level of verisimilitude as well. The motion capture, facial animation and general cinematography belies the studio's budget, but the objects those variables sometimes fail are ALWAYS stunning. Despite the many, many inspirations you can immediately recognize Asobo Team drawing from, their results are fascinating.)
Still, being a year in which so many sequels seemed to understand "more complicated" as "more interesting", A Plague Tale takes the crown. Horizon held its ground against the bloat, God of War sashayed its way through several game designers' ambitions and The Last of Us Part I shied away from reinvention period (I swear I played more than Sony first party games!) but this game is absolutely dense with, well, game.
The really neat thing about both of Asobo Team's Plague Tale games is that despite their ambitions they have no interest in ignoring the core of video games. Sometimes this makes some of their dramatic beats absolutely comedic, but then even in their storytelling Asobo seems eager to ask themselves "if we already did X, what the hell is Y?"
This game has seventeen chapters - and some of them aren't much more than walking and talking - yet Asobo finds a way at every turn to make the player feel like a part of the story their telling. In the press for Innocence it seemed like they loved to point at Uncharted and Brothers as frames of reference. But here they've realized what I felt the first game was straining to commit to: this is a story about blinding passion, unrealistic faith and absurd love.
I'd never say this Plague Tale sequel is a better game than The Last of Us Part II but I think it has a more intuitive understanding of what it means to manipulate the player into being a villain.
So here is where I'll say it: this game is full of likable characters, but only a madman could love them. I love the reasons why the eight or so main characters in this game are all incapable of recognizing the shadows they cast - that number comes off the cuff, so I'd like to note that Hugo is absolutely not included in that count - but it also makes for a wildly incongruous experience. For those who've played the first game, it should come as no surprise that every festival is a funeral, nor every companion a friend.
But when you recognize that early (or remember it from the first game) and catch what the chapter breaks are implying (like the first game) you can be gifted with this truly unique amalgamation of Resident Evil 4, whichever Wicker Man you please, The Last of Us and Rise of the Tomb Raider that is truly bizarre. Because environmental art costs what it costs so many games have chosen to either bask in the relatively cheap labor of the Philippines or cross their fingers that animation, art or - ugh - gameplay will dominate the trailers and criticism.
Like Innocence before it, Requiem spends all of its time finding new ways for you to use its tools. I found this took nearly half the game to get used to, as you spend most of the game with four interactions containing five (four?) modifiers selected via either one supremely dense weapon wheel or fully logical yet no less mystical hot buttons on the d-pad. I'd love to say that when I'd finally earned more capacity for crafting materials (the game doles out some core character progression based on, supposedly, your play style) I got more inventive during combat, but it's honestly impossible to enjoy this game's definition of conflict after playing Horizon, Elden Ring and God of War this year, let alone some rabbit in a hat like Ratchet & Clank: Going Commando.
Or, y'know, Resident Evil 4 or Last of Us Part II. The Last of Us Part I had this problem as well I suppose but the latter game really hammered home that just because the player/protagonist alerted some foes doesn't mean they can't just find the progression point and nope the fuck out. Requiem loves punishing a player who finds the exit before they've introduced death to whichever lumbering oafs know that door or hatch means asylum.
Anyway, yes, not always a great game! However, as I said before but couldn't possibly emphasize enough what this game aspires to be and what it is fascinates me. Without saying more than amounts to a sales pitch, this game imagines a world in which H.R. Giger were asked to dream about and then illustrate Ellie Williams (The Last of Us - don't worry, I had to look it up too) and Nathan Drake (Spider-Man's alterego) noshing s'mores and sharing each others' adventures.
But that's also barely this game at all! Despite some clear animation shortcomings this may be the best looking game of 2022, and despite a heavy dose of schlock this story worthy of being told by a game this year as well. I recognize this is particular to the Playstation 5's DualSense but there are two specific moments during the game's last five or so chapters where the combination of contextual rumble and trigger pull blew me away. Especially in the trigger's case, I'm talking about a situation anybody who's played a Naughty Dog game from Crash 2 onward would be familiar with. It's relatively rote, even bland, in description. Yet I was absolutely roped in, as though I'd never helped Nathan Drake scale a train before.
I don't have a full paragraph for this because ultimately I'm an idiot and even I could tell most of this game's puzzles were pretty elementary, but if the imperative was to create 17 (disclosure: yes, 17 chapters, but not all 17 carry the same weight) mutations of the previous game's puzzles, they both mildly succeeded at replicating the first game and spectacularly failed at making Naughty Dog's Portal 2. Said another way, it's fun to see these puzzles for what they are up to the point they refuse to be anything else, and then you're just stuck following a script you've never read, merely acted out wrongly over and over.
And I think that's ultimately where this franchise - franchise? - wins with me - the bit from the paragraph before the last! It isn't just that the first game was wildly propulsive and charming in its Cleveland-esque ambitions, nor that the second game satisfactorily delivers on the promises of said propulsion or ambition. This game's a bit of a mess at times (I'm not sure I said it just before so I'll make it plain now: the sling Amecia relies on might be cute and she may only be 15 but them blokes got iron helmets and chain mail) and from the vantage of a Goodyear blimp I think the real evil behind the rat infestation of 15th century southern France is clearly the player characters we puppeteered along the way...but I can't help but root for these kids.
Rats off to ya.