A Plague Tale: Innocence
PC, PS4, Xbox One
Amicia’s repeated cries of “Don’t look!” seem comically pointless with death and decay in every direction
Developer Asobo Studio
Publisher Focus Home Interactive
Format PC (tested), PS4, Xbox One
Release Out now
Fair play to Asobo Studio, and fair warning: this medieval melange of stealth, horror and actionadventure does not pull its punches. Its opening introduces you to a family of French nobles in 14th century Aquitaine, in the kind of idyllic scene you immediately know is about to go horribly wrong. But just how wrong – and how horribly – is really quite startling. The family’s delightful pet dog is gruesomely despatched. Then, just to prove it’s not messing around, Asobo apparently orphans its two young protagonists, Amicia de Rune and her younger brother Hugo. The boy, to compound matters, is suffering from a curious ailment that’s significant enough to have the English army pursuing the pair. Still, at least things can’t get any worse, right? Oh, but they can, and they do.
It’s an impressively pitiless start, and yet A Plague Tale: Innocence is much more than a grimdark wallow in blood, mud and piles of corpses. That suffix is key: this may be a story about the loss of innocence, but there’s a sincerity to the relationship between the two siblings that becomes a beacon in the gloom. Their time apart gives them the opportunity to learn about one another as they learn how to negotiate this dangerous, diseased world. And though Amicia’s repeated cries of “Don’t look!” seem comically pointless with death and decay in every direction, her concern for her brother feels affectingly genuine; likewise, the way Hugo delicately places flowers he finds in his sister’s hair. With sensitive voice work (and apparent script input) from young actors Charlotte McBurney and Logan Hannan, the two sound authentically childlike, rather than adults in young bodies. Their rapport is warm and credible, and we quickly find ourselves invested in their journey.
The secret behind Hugo’s worsening illness is one of several small mysteries that exert a gentle narrative pull. Meanwhile, the environments draw you in, even when you can’t hear the clank of steel boots at your heels. Typically, it follows a rote thirdperson action-adventure template, showing you a landmark and challenging you to make your way there; this usually involves a route past enemies and hazards, each area functioning as an environmental puzzle of sorts. Though you’ll mostly stick to a linear path, these are persuasively realised, handsomely lit places – and even when you revisit familiar haunts, Asobo finds ways to vary its palette. In one stage, you creep through an enemy camp in broad daylight; another has you sneaking through a town after dark. There’s a torchlit trek through a large castle, and a return to the de Rune estate in gentle snowfall.
Naturally, you need to stay hidden when the soldiers show up, though these are not exactly England’s best and brightest: they’re short-sighted, follow predictable patrol routes and even on full alert they don’t spend long searching for you before giving up. Yet Amicia always feels vulnerable. If she’s caught it’s usually a one-hit kill unless you’ve prepared a last-resort item which functions like Resident Evil’s grenades and knives. Otherwise, you can use Amicia’s sling, or any nearby pots, to distract them long enough to slip by unnoticed. She can kill a man with a single rock, as long as they’re not wearing a helmet. And if they are, a corrosive compound can force them to remove it, leaving them wide open for the subsequent headshot. Inevitably, there’s risk involved when several guards are present, not least given the nerve-wracking delay in loading and aiming the sling. Generous checkpoints mean death is no real hardship, but the suspense remains. It’s partly down to the score – composer Olivier Derivière’s chilling string-laden themes glide between slow, doomladen anticipation and jittery horror-movie tension, while thudding percussion arrives in a feverish crescendo when you’re in danger – but mainly you’ll want to avoid being caught simply because you care.
It makes for stealth that feels fraught but always fair. If at times it seems overly ordered, Asobo has an extra ingredient up its sleeve to add a little chaos. Rats occasionally swarm forth from the ground in their thousands, crawling all over one another, their eyes flashing red. They’re a shiveringly unpleasant sight, and while wandering into a group means instant death, more often they’re a danger to your pursuers as you use light to manipulate them to your own ends – or, rather, those of your enemies. This leads to some truly macabre moments: break an enemy’s lantern with your sling and you’ll hear him scream as the vermin scurry into his armour to eat him alive. There are plenty of deliciously nasty variations on this theme. If that sounds cruel, it feels like justice when you stumble across evidence of the army’s terrible handiwork: piles of infected animals and townsfolk, all mercilessly slaughtered.
Grisly stuff, then, yet there are always glimmers of light in the darkness. Sometimes you supply them: a range of alchemical projectiles let you light braziers and even conjure flames from nothing. And sometimes that warmth comes from others. You run into a succession of NPCs who become friends, from trainee alchemist Lucas to burly blacksmith Rodric and nimble thief Melie. Sure, this is the kind of game where you’ll boost one up a high wall, and ask another to pull a lever to lift a bookcase while you manoeuvre a crate from beneath it. But sharp writing makes them good company.
Yes, we could gripe about its mechanical simplicity. But between its script, score and swarms, Asobo has made a little spread a long way. And at a time when so many singleplayer games feel like all-you-can-eat buffets, how refreshing to get a satisfying fill within 12 hours. It’s unlikely Innocence will lead to an epidemic of similarly snappy games, but we’d love this particular contagion to catch on.