Game intel
Resident Evil Requiem
Resident Evil Requiem is the ninth entry in the Resident Evil series. Experience terrifying survival horror with FBI analyst Grace Ashcroft, and dive into puls…
The moment Resident Evil Requiem’s return to the Raccoon Police Department was revealed, I felt that old, specific kind of Resident Evil excitement — the “I am absolutely going to get lost in a puzzle for 40 minutes and love it” kind. After actually playing around four and a half hours of the game, that feeling hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s sharpened.
Requiem splits itself right down the middle: Grace’s campaign is first-person survival horror, Leon’s is over-the-shoulder action. On paper, that sounds like a recipe for tonal whiplash. In practice, at least in this early slice, it feels like Capcom finally stopped apologizing for classic survival horror and decided to embrace it again — while still giving Leon his modern action-hero swagger.
I’m firmly on the “Resident Evil is a survival horror series first” side of the eternal fandom argument. Once Raccoon City went up in flames, the tone shifted, puzzles thinned, and the series leaned far more into action than creeping dread. The games were still fun, but they often felt like they were borrowing the name “Resident Evil” more than the identity.
So when I loaded into Requiem and realized just how heavily it leans on Resident Evil 2’s DNA — structurally, mechanically, tonally — it felt like Capcom quietly admitting, “Yeah, we know what you miss.” Not in a cheap nostalgia-skin way, but in the nuts-and-bolts design: the claustrophobic layout, constant inventory pressure, and puzzles that route you back through spaces you thought you’d mastered.
The first thing that surprised me: by default, Grace’s segments are first-person, Leon’s are third-person. I already knew both perspectives were in the game, but I expected a global toggle, not character-specific defaults. It’s a small detail, but it speaks volumes about Capcom’s intent.
With Grace, you’re right up against the horror — literally. The camera sits at head height, and every encounter feels uncomfortably intimate. Walking through Rhodes Hill Clinic, your flashlight cuts through dark corners where you can see individual chunks missing from zombies’ faces, blood slicked across tiles, and that awful, wet twitch when something that should be dead moves again. Light and shadow matter a lot here: stepping from a brightly lit hallway into a dim room feels like putting a bag over your own head.
Leon’s half is a different beast. Third-person, over-the-shoulder, with brutal melee finishers that only make sense from that vantage. This is older, seasoned Leon — the man who has survived more viral outbreaks than most people have had Mondays. His sections feel closer to Resident Evil 4: you’re still managing ammo, but you’re encouraged to press the attack, close gaps, and chain melee into gunplay. When you land one of those brutal finishers, the camera framing and animation sell him as the hardened action hero he’s become.
Grace’s segments are slower, methodical, and frankly more unnerving. Leon’s are louder, faster, and more empowering. In the slice I played, that push and pull kept me engaged rather than disoriented — it feels intentionally like two genres in one game.
I haven’t reached the RPD section yet, and honestly I’m glad; I want to experience that cold. Instead, the preview dropped me into Rhodes Hill Clinic, which is entirely new but instantly familiar in the right ways.
Rhodes Hill is big and layered, the kind of place that initially feels like a maze and then slowly reveals itself as a knot you’re patiently untangling. Dead ends hide key items. Locked doors become mental post-it notes. Glittering emblem-like trinkets slot into elaborate mechanisms. Documents aren’t just lore dumps; they’re riddles that point you toward codes, patterns, and hidden stashes.
The front lobby in particular gave me déjà vu: a grand central space, a main exit that’s tantalizingly visible but impossible to use yet, and multiple branching corridors that loop back into each other. It’s not a one-to-one copy of the mansion or RPD, but it’s clearly designed by people who understand why those spaces are still iconic.
By the end of my session, I had that classic RE feeling of knowing the building better than my own apartment: which staircases to avoid, which route is fastest back to a safe room, and where I’d left a stubbornly locked door waiting for its oddly shaped key.
Rhodes Hill isn’t just populated by standard zombies. The first time I wandered into the clinic’s kitchen, a hulking chef — a literal rock of a man swinging a massive blade — came barreling at me. Later, a different monstrous figure punched straight through a wall like a nightmare Kool-Aid Man. Both then started roaming the corridors, stalking me in a way that immediately triggered my Mr X instincts.
I did what years of Resident Evil training taught me: I treated them as unkillable forces of nature. I ran. I ducked into side rooms. I mapped out patrol routes to conserve ammo. Only after my session ended did I learn that, even as Grace, you can kill these roaming threats. That realization reframed my experience — I had been rationing ammo like RE1’s hardest mode, making my own experience scarier by being overly cautious. But it also undercut some of what the game is quietly telling you about Grace’s capabilities versus Leon’s.
Still, judged purely as moment-to-moment encounters, these roaming threats work. Hearing heavy footsteps echo through a hallway and not knowing which corner they’ll come around is one of the best tricks in Resident Evil’s bag, and Requiem uses it well.
One of the reasons I still think about Resident Evil 2 so often is Claire. She was the first true civilian protagonist in the series: not a trained agent, not a special forces bruiser, just someone thrust into chaos and forced to adapt. Across that game, she grows into a protector — of herself, of Sherry, of anyone she can help.
Grace initially looked like a clever way to revisit that dynamic. She’s technically FBI, but in practice she’s a desk-bound agent. On paper, that sets up a great arc: someone who knows evil exists in theory suddenly forced to confront it up close, discovering real strength along the way.
In the portion I played, that’s not really who Grace is. She comes across as timid, anxious, and sometimes randomly reckless: grabbing loose items without a plan, stepping into dark rooms without checking or backtracking in a moment that felt driven more by design than character motivation. In-game lore snippets describe her as a reclusive analyst, which underlines her outsider status rather than hinting at hidden reserves of courage.
The more time I spent with Leon, the more it felt like Grace was positioned as someone for Leon to rescue, a narrative foil reinforcing his action-hero credentials. I can see the logic: pairing a grizzled veteran with a more fragile partner to recapture the terror of encountering the T-Virus horrors “for the first time.” But it’s also a missed opportunity for another Claire-style arc — a woman who starts scared and ends up undeniable. To be fair, I’ve only seen the opening chunk. There’s room for Grace to grow into someone more confident later on. Right now, though, early impressions leave me more frustrated by her portrayal than inspired.
Mechanically, Requiem is at its strongest when it leans into old-school survival horror systems — and it really does lean. Playing as Grace, I ran out of inventory space constantly. That wonderful, awful feeling of staring at the screen and thinking, “Do I really need this ammo more than that healing item?” is back in full force. I regularly made trips back to safe rooms just to rearrange, store, and plan my loadouts.
Hip pouches return, just like in the RE2 remake. Some you find tucked in corners; one in my session was locked behind a cabinet that required ancient coins, a nod to RE7’s upgrade cages. The coin economy here feels light-touch: you’re not grinding for cash, just keeping an eye out for enough to grab a few optional upgrades or utility items.
Mr Raccoon is back as a shootable collectible. I haven’t seen what happens if you find them all in this preview, but given Requiem’s fondness for callbacks, there’s almost certainly a reward — perhaps an extra weapon or lore files — for fully hunting them down.
Ink ribbons and typewriters, traditional hallmarks of classic RE saving, aren’t part of the default preview build’s save system. Instead, they appear only if you toggle on “Classic Save Mode” in the options. By default you get a mix of autosaves and checkpoint saves — forgiving for newcomers but optional for purists who want to bring back ribbon-based tension.
With mechanics and ambiance nailed, it’s time to sum up these early impressions.
After four and a half hours, Resident Evil Requiem feels like Capcom’s best shot yet at recapturing classic RE tension without losing modern polish. Grace’s first-person stealth and inventory crunch deliver genuine dread, while Leon’s third-person segments bring adrenaline-fueled action. Character-wise, Grace’s early timidity raises questions about her growth arc, but there’s room for her to evolve. If the full game maintains this balance of horror, puzzle design, and pacing, it could be the series high point fans have been waiting for.
Full release is expected later this year, with a demo available now on all platforms. Those craving a taste of classic survival horror should dive in — just remember to toggle Classic Save Mode if you want ink ribbons and typewriters back in your life.
Get access to exclusive strategies, hidden tips, and pro-level insights that we don't share publicly.
Ultimate Reviews Strategy Guide + Weekly Pro Tips