Joseph Bernstein’s review of Resident Evil 6 for Kill Screen is great stuff:
Has there ever been a blander collection of meaningless white people than those in these games? Who in the world cares what happens to them? No one but no one is clamoring to know the fate of Leon Kennedy and Chris Redfield.
It’s an excoriation of a game that by all accounts deserves it. (I won’t be buying it, at least not at full price, while both RE4 and RE5 sit on my shelf, nearly completely unplayed.) I think the big secret about Resident Evil is that the series wasn’t ever really that good to begin with.
But it gets better:
Then, it struck me. Resident Evil 6 is a parable about two heroin addicts. The game is always asking: where is the crank? Can you use the crank in time? Can you avoid the monsters that are trying to keep you from using the crank? Only in the baffling, terrifying, urgent world of the smack-addled could the way this game operates make any sense. The zombies, I think, are not even zombies, just normies, the shuffling masses who don’t and will never know the beauty of a pure shot of china white! The ones who want you to have a normal job and keep normal hours and not use the crank!
Delicious. Read the whole thing.