A Plague Tale: Requiem
Awe and beauty wherever you look.
There are ghastly things in this game. People are gnawed to the bone in seconds by massive swarms of rats. Violence and decease roam freely, and as the tale progresses, a depressive state befalls our heroes, Amicia and Hugo.
But throughout and at frequent intervals, there is beauty and awe. I have never played a game that managed to cultivate these feelings so often and with such great effect as in Plague Tale: Requiem. That’s not to say there aren’t any edges around, but for the majority of the game, you will want to enter photo mode or just stand there and look, or walk your way slowly and try to get the camera in just the right spot.
Towards the end, I was overwhelmed. I said it out loud as I played. “This is one of the best games I’ve ever played”, I said. And I stand by it. But first, let’s look at the shadows that A Plague Tale draws before I come back around to what makes this shine so bright for me.
As in the previous instalment, A Plague Tale: Innocence, I have my qualms about the plot, character decisions, some moments and words, and some twists and turns. Overall, I’d say it’s much better, much more honest and very well-paced. But, like in Innocence, the villains don’t do it for me. They are overly plain, painful to listen to and impossible to relate to. You can see they tried, and what they have here is better than the evil mastermind bishop in the last game (both incredibly contrived and unbelievably shallow), but they don’t find an antagonist that has anything meaningful to contribute other than move the plot along; other than, well, be the bad guy to beat.
There are a couple more ambivalent characters. All the companions you meet have a good dose of personality. They are, for the most part, believable. And then there are still the rats, of course. Massive amounts of them. In the finale of Part 1, they became towering pillars that would crash down on Amicia during a boss fight. It’s that sort of crazy video-game-esque idea that mingles itself into this narrative of trauma and loss, and somehow doesn’t distract, but adds. And adding up they literally do. At times, the amount of rats visible on-screen looks more like a pretty competent fluid simulation than a few too many unloved pets. The world feels more frightening because of them, and the balancing act between silly and frightening works just as well as in the Resident Evil titles — Resident Evil has a very different tone, but it is equally impressive that within all these campy tropes and monstrous inventions, the atmosphere still manages to capture and intrigue; you are on your toes in Resident Evil, and similarly, Plague Tale doesn’t break its world with this fantasy element, it nourishes it. I won’t go into detail about what they do with these possessed rats, but the team manages to wield this fantastic element as more than just a parable, opening up a surprisingly engaging world of myth around them.
Sadly, they do try to tie the knot too quickly in the end, which hampered much of the emotional impact they were going for. It felt, just like in Innocence, a bit contrived and by the numbers. It’s a common mistake and perhaps the most difficult part of storytelling to manage to draw to a close while still letting the story breathe; letting it open up and flourish instead of tying it down to the ground, never to fly out and about, meeting the audience on higher pains.
It doesn’t entirely close the doors on interpretation, but it does leave a lot on the floor. So much so that, after the credits rolled and an ominous end-credit scene played out, a third part in the series would have to not just pick all those loose themes up again, but also deepen the mythology substantially. Let’s just say that, while they started out exclusively mocking the Christian Church in Part 1, they came — knowingly or unknowingly — much closer to its themes in Part 2 (there is at least one conscious approach to shed a different light on Christianity in an optional scene were Amicia prays for her Mother when you find a rosary in a Church you pass though). And Part 3 would have to come closer still — approach the spiritual and cuddle up right beside — if it isn’t to end in complete cynicism and a mocking of the human life; or dare I say, soul.
But fret not. As I said, there is room for interpretation and you can come to a satisfying conclusion by pondering and, I have to say, rewriting or rather adding a few notes that were left unsung. But back to the good stuff. And since I just made an analogy to singing, let’s start with the music, which is easily one of my favourite soundtracks to emerge in recent years. I don’t make a distinction here between movies or TV shows. It’s just that good, and It completely plays in my wheelhouse. Already a standout in Innocence, Olivier Deriviere goes to the heart. Epic choirs, at times minimalist string melodies, and when the orchestra swells up, it does so with conviction; it knows what it is. It is deeply moving. It is one of the main drivers of awe and beauty in this game.
The other drivers are the art designs, the environments, the play of light and shadow and some of the best character models I’ve seen. Amicia alone has so much presence, that she could carry the show alone. But every other supporting character stands believably beside her. There may be some exceptions I am missing, but the picture created on screen is lively, vibrant as it can be dark, and filled with joy.
Yes, joy. I can spot when someone has fun creating. There isn’t a place in this game that felt rushed; that felt like someone just quickly put this here, copy-pasted and that, and moved on to get it over with. There’s a lot of love to be found in the little details as well as the great, sweeping scenes that will surely make your jaw drop.
But what do you do? Do you just walk around in this game? I know I could, but thankfully, there’s a surprisingly deep stealth game here. Its richness comes not so much from enemy AI (something that still hasn’t made the leaps I was hoping, and often is overshadowed by much older games like Splinter Cell 3, or MGS 3), but from the level design. There are so many ways one can go about most enemy encounters. I was reminded of Splinter Cell: Blacklist, which probably had the best stealth levels I’ve ever seen (perhaps Dishonoured 1 and 2 could be mentioned here as well). You can run, hide, use traps, manipulate enemies or, especially later in the game, fight it out. It feels like there is always an option to do something else when a plan goes sideways and adequately punishing if you try to rush through. But even rushing through has its place, I wouldn't be surprised if a few more craft-able smoke bombs of traps will enable speed-runners to make all of this look very easy.
That’s not a complaint, by the way. I like player expression. I like it when, after some time of fiddling around with a certain location, you find a way that feels like YOUR way; one that clicks and suddenly makes it look very easy and doable. That’s a great feeling to get from video games (and probably one of their strongest hooks, both in a good and a potentially bad way). So, for someone who loves stealth, I approve of this. I feel immersed, and I don’t just see the way of tall grass (although there’s quite a lot of it here), but I feel motivated and engaged in solving a problem creatively.
Technically, the game is extremely demanding. I’d stay within the recommended specs and settle for a 30 fps experience if you must. The game doesn’t require quick reflexes or expert aim. There’s a generous auto-lock whenever you use Amicia’s weapons and throwables (which can in some circumstances lead to unintended behaviour), but there are settings to hone this in a little according to taste.
But enough with all the parts. The whole of this game is not about whether the stealth beats out the competition. It all comes together to create an experience. There are some rusty nails in the telling of this tale, but the experience is one of overwhelming beauty. I am reminded of The Last of Us Part 2. In that title, I had way more serious problems with the story it told. It left important themes almost complexly untouched and circled around REVENGE for 25-30 hours only to end on a depressing note that demands a “To Be Continued…” just to salvage what is left of the characters. A Plague Tale fares much better in that regard, but there is still so much more a potential Plague Tale Part 3 must do with its themes to seriously have something to say. But just like in The Last of Part 2, I caught myself wandering around the place, just soaking it all in. I listened to the breath of it all. The scope. The artistry. The love that was poured in.
If the storytellers of these games (and there are many that fall into similar trappings, myself included) could let more of this love into their writing, then, I think, they’ll have much more to say.
