The Leon Problem in Resident Evil Requiem

Resident Evil Requiem, the 9th entry in the RE franchise, is quite an interesting game. It is in many ways a “greatest hits” collection for the franchise that references everything from the original games, to the remakes, to the non-canonical Paul Anderson films. In many ways, it is exceptional. In others, it ends up feeling like perhaps it hasn’t grown at all, and Capcom hasn’t learned as much as we thought from their previous games. What’s so interesting to me is how obviously clear the lines are between fresh and stale. Resident Evil Requiem feels like two different games packaged as one, which is both a genius way to satisfy their audience and an effective pacing tool, but also results in part of the game feeling extraordinarily tired and backwards-facing.

I was hugely excited for the release of Requiem. The trailers were excellent, and the late reveal of Leon S. Kennedy being the co-protagonist was an incredible moment for franchise fans. They presented this dual narrative in a compelling way. Resident Evil has always been trapped between horror and action. The first 6 games show a slow shift from horror-focused gameplay to action, only for 7 to tip in the other direction to become the most horror-focused game in the franchise, and 8 moving the needle back towards action. And throughout, side games were sprinkled in that landed all across that spectrum. There are so many possible answers when you ask a franchise fan their favorite game, often depending on their preference between these two ends of the spectrum.

Leon is the ultimate badass of Resident Evil. Since RE4, he has been roundhouse kicking and suplexing the heads off of every bioweapon in his path, all while cracking jokes. He’s a fan favorite for this reason, and the fact that he appears in many of the series’ best games. It’s no wonder that Capcom decided they wanted to bring him back, and apparently that was their original plan for RE9. But, according to them, Leon is too cool to be afraid of anything, so as a protagonist, the players will therefore not be afraid. I agree with them, I don’t think Leon can ever star in any form of horror-focused gameplay, he’s just overcome too much. However, by switching him over to be the co-protagonist with a new, inexperienced, and terrified character, his role serves a different purpose, as a tension release valve.

To me, what makes the best of Resident Evil work so well is its focus on overcoming fear. Other franchises often make the mistake of not giving the players any means of fighting back. It’s why I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy a hiding simulator like Outlast. You might need to run or hide from the monsters at the start of a Resident Evil game, but every single creature can eventually be killed. Resident Evil 2 Remake and the original Resident Evil 3 are famous for forging a rivalry between Mr. X and Nemesis, respectively. You are constantly stalked by an unkillable monster. You hate and dread these monsters. So, when you eventually get to fight and kill them, it is infinitely more satisfying. Nearly every game in the franchise turns down the fear and turns up the action throughout your playthrough, as the player and the characters gain confidence with the gameplay, and get increasingly frustrated with their opponents. This is an excellent example of emergent storytelling and ludonarrative harmony, perhaps one of the best ever within the medium.

This is actually done incredibly well during Requiem, even if we ignore Leon’s existence. The player forms a rivalry with The Girl, the new iconic monster of the game, over the course of the first half of the game over the course of 3 encounters. At the start of the game, we get an incredibly tense puzzle box where the player is introduced to The Girl and forced to sneak around and run away from her. It’s perhaps the most terrifying sequence the franchise has ever created. The player’s only respite is either by hiding, or staying in well-lit rooms, and at the climax of the sequence, the only lit rooms in the area lose power, forcing the player to run to the exit. This sequence situates the player as a victim, and The Girl as an overwhelming and unbeatable force of nature. We do learn that light burns The Girl, but all we can do is use that light to temporarily hide, and we need to leave it behind to progress our escape.

The second encounter takes place in the basement of the Care Center, where the player is tasked with freeing their ally from a cell. This is a much larger, more complicated area, where the player must collect three fuses to power the switch and unlock the cell door. However, these fuses can also be used to power specific areas of the basement, allowing the player to strategically protect themselves from The Girl. Because of this, the player has a lot more agency in protecting themselves from The Girl. Additionally, now equipped with a powerful Magnum, the player can temporarily stun The Girl to get out of a dicey situation with enough firepower. You still can’t defeat her, but she is now an (admittedly terrifying) obstacle rather than an active threat. Once you clear the basement, the player is likely to feel that sense of rivalry and perhaps even hatred of The Girl that I mentioned earlier, rather than fear, like they did in the first sequence. The scales are still balanced in her favor, but she is an opponent, not a force of nature.

In the final encounter, the player is tasked with opening the huge roof hatch of an underground warehouse, therefore letting in the morning sun to kill The Girl. This time, there are strategically placed spotlights that can be triggered to stun The Girl. The player needs to get to three switches to open the hatch, using various sources of light and heavy firepower to keep The Girl away. Success depends on stunning her using these various methods, every instance of light burning her skin and forcing her to retreat. This sequence now feels like The Girl is desperately trying to stop you from completing your objective rather than hunting you.

Finally, once you open the roof, The Girl tries to take you out one more time as the sun burns her. You’ve got to finish her off with a few well-placed bullets before she melts to the ground, defeating her once and for all with as direct a method as possible in these games. With that, a narrative has played out, not just for the characters, but for the player as well, and their relationship with The Girl. You might even feel bad for her by the time she dies, once you find out she used to be a young child who was transformed against her will.

The Girl and my encounters with her were exceptional, and so were the rest of the sections where you play as the protagonist besides Leon. The other protagonist, Grace, has anxiety due to her PTSD, and she reacts to her horrifying circumstances the same way any of us would in her situation. She can’t keep her hands from shaking while she aims with her gun. She constantly feels out of her depth. Over the course of the game, as she battles The Girl and learns about her connection to the evil Umbrella Corporation, she gains confidence and agency, but she never becomes a badass superhero like Leon. This is fun, but it can be extremely stressful to be in these dangerous situations constantly.

Horror functions best with tension and release. If you expect a scare constantly, you become desensitized to it. Resident Evil games often do this as well using great level design. In RE9, however, the switch to Leon is that release. Playing as Leon is completely different from Grace. He is capable of dealing with 10 zombies at once, when a single one is often a challenge for Grace. He has special kill animations when enemies get stunned and probably finds 4 or 5 times the amount of ammo that Grace does. It’s a remix of his gameplay from Resident Evil 4, often cited as the greatest action game of all time. He’s older, a little slower, perhaps, but he’s still got it and then some. As soon as playing as Grace becomes too stressful, we get a switch to our favorite action hero, often fighting through the same hallways we had to sneak through as Grace. It just works from a pacing perspective.

Until we get to the second half of the game. The first half, taking place in the Care Center is probably split 85/15 between Grace and Leon. Each Leon section takes no more than 15 minutes. But, in the second half, we play as Leon for about 5 hours straight, before one more short sequence at the end where we switch between them.

Leon’s half of the game is what I was most excited about going into this game. The hook that got so many players excited was Leon’s big return to Racoon City, where his story first started 30 years ago. His first encounter with Bioweapons took place on his first day as a cop in Racoon City, and his life hasn’t been the same since. As he escapes, the city is nuked by the US government to contain the emerging threat.

Leon carries a lot of trauma from that night. He let some good people die, and a lot of his motivation in the 30 years of games since then has been doing right by them. So, when he is forced to return to Racoon City to save Grace, it feels like a big deal. For Leon, he’s returning to the place where the nightmare started. These memories are perhaps the only thing that can crack his impenetrable, practically superhuman abilities.

But this half of the game does not work for me. It’s fun in bursts, and there’s some fun fanservice sprinkled in, like a fight against Mr. X, but it completely fails in exploring what makes this such an interesting game to return to. It hints at these concepts, like a brief conversation between Leon and Sherry, another survivor, as well as a few flashbacks to cutscenes from previous games. But, the game refuses to allow Leon to seriously reflect on any of this, outside of these short instances. He hardly pauses for a moment for any of them. His sarcastic, unfaltering personality remains despite this.

Now, all of this is not the end of the world. Resident Evil games use their narratives to hold up the gameplay, not the other way around. But, while controlling Leon feels good, the level design is some of the worst in the series. Resident Evil is famous for it’s iconic locations. Spencer Mansion of RE1, RCPD of RE3, the Village and Castle of RE4, the Baker House of RE7, and countless others. The Care Center of R9 ranks among the best of these. However, the demolished streets of Racoon City are completely barren. Every crumbling building, dusty street, empty subway station feels exactly the same. There are no interesting characters for Leon to meet and interact with. Most of this sequence doesn’t even take place in a familiar part of the city, so there are precisely zero locations we might recognize from previous games. The bulk of this sequence, taking place in the outskirts of the city, sees Leon finding parts for a bomb to open up a gate he could more than likely climb over. This takes hours. It’s an excuse to give him some combat set pieces, which are usually fun, but the lack of progression flattens the interest curve of this location entirely. Every fight feels the same emotionally, even when they have some unique mechanics. Playing this sequence, you will often feel mechanically engaged, but there is no emotional journey to go on. Leon should have a relationship and history with this space, but he barely acknowledges it. The player doesn’t either, because unlike the complexity of the Care Center, or the uphill battle against The Girl, there is nothing to overcome besides finding the next container with a bomb part in it.

The game begins improving again once we arrive at the Racoon City Police Department, the primary location of RE2 that Leon feels most connected to, but that just makes me wish that it didn’t take hours to arrive here in the first place. This half of the game was meant to be a requiem for Leon and the player’s history with the franchise, but it ends up being an uneventful trek through a dusty wasteland with practically no story, and a handful of references and fanservice at the end.

I do enjoy this game. It’s one of my favorites in the franchise, but that’s despite this section, and has little to do with it. It held so much promise, but it ended up feeling shoehorned in as a marketing tactic compared to the excellence of Grace’s journey. Leon’s as fun a character as ever, but he’s got nothing to do besides do tricks, say jokes, and aura farm. He stagnates as a character here, and it was meant to be the peak of his emotional arc.

I hope the next entries in the game are willing to look forwards instead of backwards. I do want to keep seeing the characters I love like Claire and Jill return, but I want to see how this long franchise has changed them, instead of feeling pandered to by their inclusion.

I can’t help but think about Resident Evil 6 as a comparison. 6 is easily the worst game in the franchise. In trying to be everything at once, it is less than the sum of its parts. It’s horrible critical reception inspired the huge shift away from action and back towards horror in 7, and was the lowest point in the franchise. It too felt like a “greatest hits”, bringing back as many characters as possible, with no substance. RE6 is a far, far inferior game to RE9, but I think 9 makes the same mistake of looking back instead of forward in Leon’s half of the game. I hope Capcom can keep innovating in the future, and doing what they do best instead of reminding us of the things we already love.