I’ll get this out of the way: I’m the person in your group chat still ranting about Resident Evil Zero, and not in an ironic nostalgia way. I’m that old-school, T-virus-obsessed fan who wishes Capcom had left Leon running around Raccoon City forever, and who never really forgave Resident Evil 4 for swapping out shuffling zombies and weird mansion layouts for a parade of suplexes and Spanish villagers. When the bomb dropped on Raccoon City, a little part of me felt like the soul of the series went with it. But times change, and maybe-just maybe-so can Capcom.
That’s why I approached the Resident Evil Requiem demo with plenty of skepticism (and, let’s be real, a pinch of hope). What I wanted was a shivery crawl through a haunted maze, not a shooting gallery. What I got? I’ll get to that. But first, some context about where I’m coming from: I loved Resi 1, 2, 3-even Zero (call me a heretic!). I’m more about hunched shoulders and cryptic statues than dual-wielding rocket launchers. So, where does Requiem fit?
The demo starts with Grace—our new protagonist—waking up in a suspiciously cozy, if subtly sinister, room. I kid you not, the first thing I noticed was an inversion table in the corner, next to a leather armchair and a medicine-laden IV stand. It’s the kind of dingy comfort that’s always hiding something monstrous, and it instantly conjured the memory of Spencer Mansion’s ornate yet creepy rooms. I felt my heart rate shift up a gear. There’s that classic Resident Evil unease: nothing’s trying to kill me yet, which is exactly why I’m nervous.
Moving through the building, Grace’s footsteps echo while her breath quivers—an auditory reminder that yes, this is the Resi I remember. There’s an ornate, cherub-carved door, and the sort of heavy red glow that makes you second-guess every corridor. Within my first five minutes, I’d already circled a weird horse statue jutting from a wall three times, convinced it had to be part of a puzzle (spoiler: it is). The nods to Resident Evil 2 are everywhere, but not in a lazy nostalgia-mining way. They’re genuinely unsettling, and I found myself gleefully re-experiencing the dread of stumbling into RPD as a kid.
Maybe Capcom finally remembered what made the series special: the helplessness. I spent most of my 20 minutes fiddling with keys, hunting for fuse-box-like switches, and scrutinizing every document for a code or lore breadcrumb. That sense of, “if I miss this, I’m definitely dead in two rooms,” is back. The puzzles make you paranoid about missing a vital piece, and the game’s deliberate pace means you notice every creak and shadow—sometimes more than you want to.
What hit me hardest was how the demo teases the presence of zombies. I didn’t actually have to fight any as Grace—the undead here are more set-dressing and narrative flavor—but their implied threat hangs over every interaction. Even without enemies to whack (yet), I spent half the time policing my ammo as if some lurching T-virus nightmare was about to shoulder through a door at any moment. That’s the best kind of survival horror: the tension lives in your head, not just on the screen.
What’s interesting is how Requiem walks a tightrope between “classic” and “modern.” The biggest headline feature: you can swap between first-person (à la Biohazard, Village) and third-person (the beloved standard for ages). I spent my demo time toggling back and forth—third-person for that comfortable “I see what’s going to try and eat me” view, first-person when I wanted to really stew in the dread. It’s a simple feature, but it’s honestly one of the smartest ways Capcom could cater to both old weirdos like me and folks who only hopped aboard in the Ethan Winters saga.
There’s also a sly Outbreak connection: Grace is confirmed as Alyssa’s daughter (anyone else have Outbreak nostalgia whiplash?), and the presence of an empty ink ribbon—deliberately shown off—tips Capcom’s cap to the panic and pride of saving only when you really must. Resident Evil 2’s limited saves were a formative trauma for my teenage years; seeing that ribbon again, even if only as a collectible or Easter egg, got an honest laugh (and groan) from me.
The game’s “where” is as much a character as Grace herself, and Requiem is gleeful about guiding you back into the shadowy remains of Raccoon City, or somewhere just like it. The level I played felt equal parts haunted house and ruined lab, with fragments of medical paperwork scattered—often just tantalizingly out of reach at first glance. There’s the strong suggestion that the narrative will bring back classic T-virus lore, with passages hinting at half-forgotten experiments, as well as the usual blend of hidden notes and disturbing bedside tables. The density of environmental clues (and red herrings) makes me excited to dig for secrets in the full release.
But I have to be honest: this slice is pure tease. Besides the tense puzzles, I didn’t get to see how the game handles enemy encounters or more complicated combat. There’s enough in the ominous story snips and item descriptions to assure me the undead aren’t gone for good—but this is still just an appetizer, not the meal. A familiar, even “big” presence seems likely (the door is definitely open for Leon’s arrival), and if the full game keeps this atmosphere, they’re finally striking the right moody, macabre chord again.
Some “I really played this” anecdotes for you: the inky clatter of boots as I backtracked (again!) to a puzzle door, the involuntary curse when I realized a keycard I’d been hoarding was actually for a side-office three rooms back. The best/worst was finally completing a puzzle, only to hear a low groan in the hallway—a reminder that just because you’ve solved something doesn’t mean you’re any safer. Capcom even included flavor notes that have that ‘Itchy, Tasty’ vibe, which is, honestly, all I want from a Resi text log. If you’ve missed scanning every drawer for a scrap of lore, you’re going to feel right at home.
And Grace! After just this short encounter, she’s already won me over. She’s less invincible action hero and more survivalist—vulnerable, uncertain, but not a damsel. She fits seamlessly alongside Jill, Claire, or even Alyssa (shoutout to the three people who remember Outbreak as fondly as I do). If the full game deepens her story instead of sidelining her in favor of returning celebs, I’ll be even happier.
Demo, so take this with a grain of salt, but there are a couple of things that could derail the party. I didn’t get to test out the combat, and without zombies to face, it’s unclear whether those tense, unpredictable enemy encounters are really back, or if we’re still headed for boss-centric, set-piece action sequences. And while I love a good environmental puzzle, too many, too close together can quickly slide from “immersive” to “tedious fetch quest”—that line’s always razor-thin with RE games. Also, here’s hoping the perspective switch is more than a novelty and actually meaningfully affects how you play. If not, there’s a risk of ending up with a “for everyone, but really for no one” design.
If Capcom keeps the full game as taut and unsettling as this slice, dials in the writing, and avoids hanging too much on old references, Requiem might just be the apology letter old fans like me needed. For now, color me genuinely hopeful, but also cautious.
If you’re one of those action-first, ammo-hoarder types who was happiest roundhouse-kicking cultists in Spain, this demo might feel… slow. But if puzzles, ambient story, and old-school dread are your jam, you’re going to feel like Capcom made this for you. Maybe even for us: the lapsed, quietly bitter old fans who still know every safe code from the Spencer Mansion. If you’re a newcomer, I think the perspective choice, modern polish, and hints of deeper lore will draw you in—the foundation here feels accessible without being dumbed down. And hey, if you skipped Outbreak, you get a story reason to look up Alyssa Ashcroft now. Win-win.
After almost two decades of feeling like an outsider to Resident Evil’s evolution, Requiem’s demo made me feel welcome again. It’s not just a love letter to classic RE: it’s a smart attempt to bridge old and new by respecting our nostalgia and genuinely trying to unsettle us, not just scare us with brute force or excess. Sure, the real test will come with full enemy encounters and the mid-game pace, but if Capcom holds the line, Resident Evil Requiem could finally be the follow-up I’ve wanted since the doors slammed shut on Raccoon City.
My score (demo caveat, of course): 8/10—old ghosts, new tricks, and honest chills. May the rest of the game keep us nervously checking every corridor for the undead.
Resident Evil Requiem’s demo is the first time in over a decade the series has made me anxious in all the right ways. Classic puzzles, moody tension, and just enough new mechanics to keep things fresh. If you ever loved RPD or the terror of the unknown, watch this one closely.
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