A PROMISING START TO THE END TIMES
Nothing is wrong with a little inspiration, and here is a game that wears its influences proudly. A Plague Tale: Innocence clearly draws from The Last of Us, blending story-driven progression with stealth, grounded combat, and light crafting. Set in plague-stricken medieval France, it depicts a world where superstition and blind faith have curdled into mass hysteria. Here, you flee from inquisitors, angry mobs, and ravenous swarms of rats eager to gnaw flesh down to the bone.
The result is a tight third-person experience wrapped in an atmospheric narrative—often compelling, sometimes haunting—but one that never quite reaches the emotional heights of the genre’s very best. Most of the supporting cast is well written, and their interactions feel natural. The weak link, however, is also the game’s emotional cornerstone: the relationship between fifteen-year-old Amicia de Rune and her five-year-old brother, Hugo. It isn’t disastrous, but it never becomes the sturdy emotional pillar the story so desperately leans on. At times, I wanted to strangle the obstinate little boy—especially when his behavior repeatedly dragged me into trouble.
Still, the story frequently finds its footing. For long stretches, it unfolds like a grim fairy tale turned nightmare: hiding from armed men, crawling through shadows, or desperately keeping vermin at bay. Asobo Studio conjures a convincingly bleak medieval France, grounding its world in historical misery while sprinkling in restrained touches of dark fantasy to form a mythology of its own.
At its core, the narrative revolves around two siblings who are effectively strangers to one another, having been kept apart throughout their childhood. Amicia and Hugo are the sheltered children of local nobility, Robert and Beatrice de Rune. That fragile privilege collapses during an abrupt and brutal visit from the Inquisition. Their home is destroyed, their family torn apart, and the children are forced into flight. Hugo, it turns out, suffers from a mysterious illness—one that may be deeply intertwined with the plague itself and the Inquisition’s obsession with him.
As the siblings flee toward the faint promise of safety, they encounter a world in freefall. In one especially stressful sequence, a mob of peasants—ravaged by disease and desperation—turns on them, blaming the nobility for their suffering. You run, hide, and survive, and then you do it again. The game advances as a tightly scripted, cinematic journey, one calamity flowing naturally into the next.
Thanks to its linear structure and constrained level design, A Plague Tale: Innocence maintains a strong sense of pacing and claustrophobia. Olivier Derivière’s score leans heavily on oppressive strings that echo the children’s growing dread. As the story darkens, the warm golds of autumn give way to cold greys and sickly browns. This is a dying world—and this time, spring may never come.
Gameplay smartly intertwines stealth, light combat, and environmental puzzling. Each area presents a small ecosystem of threats: guards who don’t know exactly where you are, and rats that always do—unless you keep them at bay with fire. Progress means studying your surroundings and improvising solutions. You distract enemies with noise, isolate guards when necessary, and manipulate light to carve safe paths through seas of vermin. Your sling serves both as a tool and a weapon, and once you’re discovered, it becomes your last line of defense.
Combat is unforgiving, and puzzles perhaps a touch too simple, but over the long haul the balance works. This is, after all, a story of David versus Goliath. Amicia is no warrior, merely a frightened teenager wielding a sling. A clean headshot kills instantly. Miss, and you’re dead. There’s rarely time to recover—panic is part of the design.
Crafting eases that tension just enough. Scavenged materials can be assembled at workbenches to improve the sling, reducing aiming and reload times and granting a precious second chance. Aim assist and color-coded crosshairs further reduce frustration without undermining the tension. These systems are used creatively, particularly in the game’s few but memorable boss encounters.
The first boss fight stands out as a nerve-shredding culmination of a prolonged escape sequence. Unfortunately, it’s slightly undermined by a narrative “twist” involving Hugo that once again strained my patience. Still, mechanically the fight shines, demanding precision, timing, and quick thinking. Credit where it’s due: the game introduces new mechanics and tougher foes at a near-perfect pace, and it never overstays its welcome.
The linearity that defines A Plague Tale: Innocence is ultimately one of its greatest strengths. What little we see of the world is richly realized, beautiful, and horrifying in equal measure. The game does not shy away from its subject matter: bloated corpses rot in the mud, half-eaten bodies lie abandoned in stone halls, and accused witches hang burned at the stake amid lush pastoral scenery.
Hugo’s lifelong isolation gives Amicia reason to explain the world to him—and to us. Brief item descriptions and environmental details paint a picture of medieval life steeped in superstition, where rituals and charms serve as fragile shields against death. These quiet moments deepen the tragedy, adding texture to an already somber tale.
For nearly sixteen hours, I was thoroughly absorbed in A Plague Tale: Innocence. My only lingering frustration lies with Hugo himself—a problem not unique to this game. Children are notoriously difficult to portray well in fiction, and the younger they are, the more they risk becoming narrative devices rather than characters. Here, Hugo is burdened with symbolism. He is “Innocence” incarnate, and little else. Given his importance to the story, that limitation leaves a noticeable dent in what is otherwise a powerful and memorable journey.
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