Dying Light: The Beast Delivers Wild Parkour and Horror

Parkour ecstasy, B-movie revenge, and nights that still make my palms sweat

I’ve got a ritual with every Dying Light game: I promise myself I’ll play cautiously, loot methodically, and be back before sunset. Then it’s 1:37 a.m. in real life, I’m perched on a rusted ski lift cable above Castor Woods with two battered weapons and a single UV flare, and a pack of volatiles is sniffing the air below like I’m a rotisserie chicken. Dying Light: The Beast recaptures that nail-biting thrill—when you’re improvising with sweaty hands, one jump from disaster, and the parkour flow kicks in like a survivalist trance.

I dove in on PS5 in Performance mode (60 fps), motion blur off, FOV cranked to 95, and Hard difficulty for most of the run. Between solo hours and three late-night co-op sessions, I logged just over 35 hours—finished the story, tackled side quests, and lit up a dozen safehouses and towers. I flirted with the French voice track for a few cutscenes (surprisingly solid), but mostly stuck to English audio and subtitles. With that context: The Beast nails the rush, polishes the parkour, and crafts a gorgeous Alpine playground—then stumbles when it hands you a rifle or asks you to slip past guards like a shadow.

Kyle Crane’s pulpy revenge lands with a thud and a grin

Thirteen years after the original fallout, Kyle Crane is back—locked up by the aptly named Baron, and now on a one-man blood-lust mission through Castor Woods. This isn’t subtle drama; it’s pulpy revenge with monstrous set pieces and cringe-worthy one-liners that somehow still land when delivered with grit. The plot hits familiar beats—grim escape, uneasy alliances, super-creature showdowns, a showdown with Big Bad—but it’s staged competently, and a handful of side characters sneak past the grimdark greasepaint to feel like actual people.

That said, the staging is safe. Conversations play out in plain shot/reverse-shot, exposition dumps stretch on, and cutscenes pause the action for “dramatic” moments. One early mission has Crane escort a nervous medic through a flooded tunnel—prime horror potential squandered by static camera angles. The performances bail it out, though: even when lines verge on corny, the actors sell the desperation of folks stuck in an endless nightmare.

Side quests, thankfully, inject variety. “The Brewer’s Last Batch,” where a cantankerous old man drags you into a looter-infested warehouse, threaded moral messiness into the climb-and-climb loop. “The Lost Hiker” had me stalking flares through a fog-choked ridge, turning a simple fetch quest into a miniature horror story. Not every detour hits the mark—some feel padded—but I rarely fast-traveled past a quest board without pinning one more errand.

Castor Woods is a vertical Alpine playground worth getting lost in

Techland’s new map is the series’ best. A tourist town grafted onto a ski resort, drab industrial flats, moss-covered marshes, and postcard-perfect national park—all carved into a towering vertical canvas. Each zone flavors parkour differently: clean rooflines and cable swings at the resort, tight container mazes in the industrial yard, endurance-taxing soggy marshlands.

Exploration feels “organically directed.” You still light up safehouses and survey towers, but most markings on your map appear as you venture. I stumbled on hidden lockpicking challenges beneath a collapsed chalet, discovered a UV-lit ranger station with zip-line catwalks, and navigated ductwork into a generator room with multiple entry points. The world is more stage than sandbox, but cleverly authored paths reward curiosity with secret vents, hidden ladders, and pipe routes.

Parkour finally hits that true flow state

This series’ defining magic—turning rooftops into a living map—feels sharper than ever. Crane’s run has a visceral snap at ledges, and mantle detection rescues far more mistakes than it should. Stamina factors in, but as a gentle governor: plan your line, pivot when you mess up, and keep moving.

Traversal tools layer in new depth. Vaults chain into drop-kicks, slide-cancels fluidly transition to pipe climbs, and gaps reward a last-second sprint tap. The grappling hook returns, not as a crutch but a beat extender in fights and climbs. The paraglider whispers in on updrafts near cliff edges, but rooftops remain king. My favorite trick is the new wall-boost—a quick kick off a vertical surface that extends jumps, making you feel clever without demanding pixel-perfect timing.

One radio mast puzzle above a misty valley stood out: a locked gate forced me into a maintenance shaft, which spat me onto a broken catwalk. I wall-boosted, vaulted a dangling ladder, grappling-hooked to redirect my fall, then cut a padlock from the inside. No waypoint told me that was “right.” I figured it out, and it sang.

Combat: glorious melee, limp guns, and feral bursts that feel illegal

Melee combat remains the star—crunchy, brutal, and fun. Perfect blocks into riposte, wrench-smashing a biter’s face in slow-mo, and watching limbs arc through the air never quits. Weapon archetypes feel distinct: heavy axes chew stamina and crowds, fast machetes let you dance around grabs, and my go-to reinforced bat stunned foes just long enough for a follow-up swipe.

Ranged weapons, though? They still feel limp. Guns sound sharper, but hit reactions wobble and AI collapses under pressure. Foes forget flanks, huddle behind flimsy cover, and get baffled by simple vertical environments. Suppressed headshots occasionally drop guards silently, but other times they trigger Keystone Cops-worthy alarm spam. I leaned on a modded SMG with shock ammo for cleanup, but I never reached the same satisfaction or safety as with a well-tuned blade.

Then there’s “Beast mode.” A ring around your health pulses hot, and when you click both sticks, Crane becomes a mountain-eating brute. Burst dashes snap you to targets, ground slams stun infected in a ring, and a claw combo sends acid-splattered brutes staggering. It’s balanced by brief duration and a cooldown you can feel, so it stays a panic button for special enemy mixes. My best Beast moment? Spinning into a slam after a wildcard howler chase, then sprinting up a delivery truck into a safe perch—all in one breath.

Night remains the series’ masterpiece. My first neon ski-village chase saw me biff a jump into a patio, slice a UV flare into the gloom, and map a rooftop escape by string lights. I stumbled into a safehouse on a razor-thin health sliver, heart pounding, as distant shrieks faded. Few games capture panic and focus like this.

Progression and loot: a steady climb with familiar chores

RPG systems here are lean and tidy. Four trees—Parkour, Combat, Beast, and Survivor—level in tune with your playstyle. Early picks like Parkour Vault Stun and Perfect Block riposte set table-stun combos, while Beast perks extended that surge by seconds. Late-game nodes like “Cat’s Cradle” (safer landings from chained vaults) genuinely tweak your chase-routing.

Gear follows rarity tiers—bleed, shock, durability, stamina tweaks. Durability still bites, but repairs only cost materials you gather from junk and blueprints. Crafting never overwhelms; it’s a maintenance loop with “ooh” moments when a mod perfectly pairs with your favorite machete. Quick-craft in combat works smoothly—you can slap a medkit onto Crane’s arm while shimmying through ducts if you’re nimble.

Exploration-driven materials hunting can feel repetitive in the midgame. Cabinets, toolboxes, trunks—rinse and repeat. The lockpicking minigame is a mild time tax (haptics included), and I’d have loved more environmental puzzles in those supply rooms. On Hard, scarce resources nudge you into smarter routes and riskier nighttime raids, which I enjoyed, but Normal difficulty might turn this loop into busywork for some.

Co-op: chaotic joy with smart sharing—and a stealth caveat

Three-player and four-player co-op on PS5 hits highs and lows. Quest progress and story beats sync smoothly—no one gets stranded in “did you talk to the quest giver yet?” limbo. Loot is instanced, so no bat-wielding brawls over purples. Enemy scaling feels fair, and the revive window gives rescuing a buddy that adrenaline zap when you nail a mid-air catch after a failed slide.

Co-op amplifies parkour races across the ski town into whoops and groans. Tag-team Beast mode takedowns on elites make solo roadblocks vaporize. But stealth basically disintegrates—one bottle clink or laggy guard patrol, and the whole compound lights up. If you treat stealth as a joke, great. If you want surgical ghost moves, you’ll face too many alarms to stay hidden.

Platform and Crossplay Notes

Tested on PlayStation 5 in Performance mode (60 fps cap, VRR on a 120 Hz display). Quality mode looks richer but locks at 30 fps, which feels sluggish in a game this kinetic. There’s no crossplay support, so co-op is limited to your console family.

Accessibility and Performance Recap

The generous FOV slider and motion-blur toggle let you tune clarity. Hard difficulty ramps up resource scarcity and rewards risk, while Normal smooths the loops. VRR handles storm‐ridden marshes and particle-heavy Beast battles without tearing. Subtitles, colorblind presets, and simple remap options cover basic accessibility needs, though I’d welcome deeper audio cues or toggleable cutscene pacing for players who prefer faster dialogue.

Conclusion and Verdict

Dying Light: The Beast is a triumphant return to raw, rooftop-racing survival horror. Its pulpy story and static cameras hold it back in cutscenes, and firearms remain second-class, but the engine for parkour and melee shines brighter than ever. Castor Woods’s vertical playground, Beast mode’s savage burst, and heart-pounding night chases deliver edge-of-your-seat moments few games match. Co-op adds chaos and camaraderie—just don’t expect ghost-quiet stealth. If you crave kinetic thrills and can forgive the odd narrative stumble, The Beast has what you need.