A REMINDER OF WHAT WE LOST
Why has everyone been so secretive about this masterpiece? Had A Plague Tale: Requiem been released during the PS3 era, it would likely be remembered as one of the greatest story-driven experiences of its time. Yes, The Last of Us came first, and without its influence Requiem might never have existed. But the fact that such a linear, cinematic game can still feel so fresh today says more about the current gaming landscape than about the game itself.
This is a direct continuation of 2019’s A Plague Tale: Innocence, also developed by Asobo Studio—a strong debut in its own right. You once again step into the role of Amicia de Rune, guiding her younger brother Hugo through plague-ravaged France in the mid-14th century. Hugo suffers from a mysterious blood disease known as the Macula, seemingly tied to the plague itself. Requiem explores the origins of this affliction, which appears to have resurfaced throughout history. At its core, the game plays like a medieval thriller.
Hugo’s significance makes him a target for religious zealots, power-hungry warlords, and terrified peasants alike. Amicia does everything she can to protect him. Companions come and go, often unceremoniously swept aside by the story’s relentless forward momentum. As Amicia, your tools are modest: a sling, later a crossbow, and a range of alchemical concoctions—explosives, tar, noxious substances—that can be used both in combat and to carve safe paths through rat-infested areas.
What will stay with me longest, however, is the writing. It’s devastatingly effective. Amicia stands among the finest protagonists I’ve encountered in games, easily on par with Joel Miller (The Last of Us) and Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption II). Much of this is due to Charlotte McBurnley’s extraordinary voice performance. Her delivery is so natural and emotionally nuanced that I often forgot the facial animations don’t always fully keep up. That same level of quality extends across the entire cast.
The first game struggled with Hugo’s characterization. His tantrums and reckless behavior often dragged Amicia into frustrating gameplay situations, dulling the emotional impact of their relationship. Requiem corrects this completely. Hugo remains volatile, but now his behavior is believable and deeply rooted in his circumstances. By the end of the journey, his arc moved me close to tears.
Although supernatural elements are present, Requiem is firmly grounded in realism—movement, combat, dialogue, and character psychology all reflect this. Some players may dislike the deliberately “slow” controls, but here they feel appropriate. The game unfolds like a prolonged nightmare, recalling films such as Come and See (1985) in its depiction of psychological trauma. The characters are weighed down by unbearable burdens, and in one especially harrowing moment, Amicia suffers a breakdown that hits with startling force.
Combat is intentionally clumsy and stressful. Reloading the crossbow or swinging the sling takes precious time, and heavily armored enemies feel genuinely threatening. You’re encouraged to think tactically: detonate environmental hazards, stun foes, or target exposed body parts. Both Amicia and her enemies die in a single hit, though on normal difficulty you’re granted one automatic evade—after that, a second mistake is fatal unless you survive a brief cooldown.
More often than not, though, you’re sneaking through tall grass or hugging cover, observing patrols and planning your next move. Chests provide crafting materials and upgrade resources. The enemy AI isn’t exceptional, but that often works in the player’s favor; soldiers sometimes get stuck on debris while investigating distractions. Amicia develops organically across three disciplines—stealth, combat, and alchemy—based on how you play.
The puzzles integrate seamlessly with the narrative and mechanics. Using light, sound, and fire, you manipulate the rat swarms to forge paths through some of the most striking environments I’ve seen this generation. Each area is spacious enough to encourage experimentation without overstaying its welcome. Hugo’s fascination with birds adds a surprisingly tender note, and I liked him enough to go out of my way hunting rare feather collectibles—though I ultimately failed to find them all.
As if all this weren’t enough, A Plague Tale: Requiem is a technical showpiece. It ranks among the most visually impressive games on the PS5. The choral and string-heavy soundtrack perfectly captures the dread of the era, while meticulous lighting design heightens tension at every turn. The characters’ mental anguish is mirrored in the world itself, which gradually decays into something nightmarish—unreal in appearance, yet painfully authentic in feeling.
In an age when AAA development cycles stretch six to eight years, games like Requiem are a reminder of what’s been lost. Following the success of Innocence, Asobo delivered this sequel in just three years, learning from their missteps and expanding the formula in all the right ways. The relatively contained scope allowed for an extraordinary level of polish. It’s not short—it took me 19 hours to complete—but every hour feels purposeful.
Everything serves the story. Every moment oscillates between hope and despair, tenderness and horror. A Plague Tale: Requiem doesn’t exist to help you escape reality—it sharpens it. When certain side characters met their end, I caught myself crying out loud in protest. It’s hardly “fun” in the conventional sense. It’s far more powerful than that.
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