Saros (2026): The Review

Overview

A relentless, adrenaline-fueled triumph unlike anything else, Saros stands tall as both a masterclass in third-person action and a bold evolution of the roguelike formula, all cloaked in visuals so stunning they rank among the finest ever seen on PlayStation 5. This is their magnum opus, the next truly essential PlayStation exclusive. Carcosa awaits.

Score: 9 out of 10

The Positives ✅

There are few forms of horror more crushing than cosmic horror. It’s the fear of infinity itself, the realization that humanity is microscopic in the face of something ancient and incomprehensible. Usually, the genre leans on familiar imagery: writhing tentacles, impossible eyes, drowned gods, and fish-like monstrosities lurking beyond reason. Saros takes those expectations and burns them to ash. It doesn’t merely participate in cosmic horror; it reshapes it into something uniquely its own.

Saros feels like an anomaly within the genre. It understands the foundations of eldritch storytelling while refusing to be trapped by them. Instead of relying solely on despair and insignificance, it builds a deeply emotional and surprisingly human story inside its sprawling nightmare. Pair that with a gameplay loop engineered specifically for shooter and roguelite addicts, an absurdly rewarding progression system, and an impressive level of player customization, and you end up with a game that overshadows nearly everything around it.

The game’s strongest aspect is undoubtedly its worldbuilding. Saros is more than just another sci-fi horror title, it feels like pure creative ambition unleashed. Housemarque crafted something that feels alien even compared to other alien worlds. Set on the planet Carcosa, the game borrows the infamous name from The King in Yellow, but transforms it into something entirely different. Gone are the expected yellow skies and black stars; instead, the world is filled with the remains of a civilization that once towered over the planet, its ruins stretching across the surface and winding far beneath it.

Housemarque already proved their talent for strange environments with Returnal, but Saros somehow pushes even further. Its environments are massive, mysterious, and deeply oppressive. Entire city-sized structures can be traversed in minutes, and every region feels handcrafted to maximize both atmosphere and gameplay potential. What makes it stand out most is its visual identity, gold, flame, light, eclipses. These aren’t the usual symbols associated with cosmic horror, and that subversion gives Saros a fresh identity in a genre that often recycles the same aesthetics.

The story itself also deserves praise for refusing to rely solely on nihilism. Rather than constantly hammering home humanity’s irrelevance, Saros focuses on emotional decay: fractured relationships, guilt, denial, obsession, and grief. It paints deeply personal emotions across an impossibly massive canvas. The result is cosmic horror that somehow feels intimate.

Gameplay-wise, Saros is essentially Returnal amplified to absurd levels, in the best way possible. The core gameplay loop revolves around fast-paced third-person combat, randomized loot, platforming, and increasingly chaotic encounters. However, its biggest innovations come from its Auto-hit and Shield systems.

Auto-hit gives ranged weapons heavy aim assistance, allowing players to focus less on precision aiming and more on timing, movement, and survival. It perfectly suits the game’s pace, which is significantly faster and denser than Returnal. Meanwhile, the shield system creates a satisfying defensive layer that lets players block or parry incoming attacks while weaving through oceans of projectiles.

What ties everything together is the Power system. Absorbing enemy fire converts it into offensive energy, creating a constant back-and-forth between aggression and defense. The game also reintroduces mechanics similar to Adrenaline and Parasites from Returnal, rewarding clean gameplay while tempting players with high-risk buffs.

All of these mechanics combine into a gameplay loop that feels dangerously addictive. Shoot, survive, absorb, empower yourself, gather stronger loot, and repeat. For fans of shooters or roguelites, Saros is basically digital narcotics.

The metagame progression system is equally impressive. Unlike Returnal’s harsher progression structure, Saros embraces a more traditional roguelike philosophy by allowing players to become permanently stronger between runs. Using Lucenite earned during expeditions, players can unlock upgrades, passives, and stat boosts through an extensive branching skill tree.

What makes this system work is its balance between generosity and restraint. The game showers players with enough resources that every run feels meaningful, but progression is still gated behind mandatory boss victories. You cannot simply grind forever and trivialize the game. Skill is still required, even if the Carcosan Modifier system allows players to customize difficulty however they want.

That customization system is one of Saros’s smartest additions. Players can alter nearly every aspect of the experience, enemy damage, corruption frequency, resource scarcity, and more. Whether you want a brutal survival nightmare or a more narrative-focused journey, Saros gives you the tools to shape the experience yourself.

The writing and voice acting also deserve serious recognition. The game’s portrayal of slow psychological collapse is genuinely unsettling. Across multiple runs, the Echelon IV crew gradually descends into different forms of madness, and hearing their dialogue shift from fear to worship of some unseen eclipse-born entity is chilling in the best possible way.

Arjun Devraj, in particular, is an incredibly compelling protagonist. His performance constantly balances desperation, guilt, and dishonesty, making him fascinating to follow. The supporting cast complements him perfectly, delivering increasingly unstable performances that sell the horror completely.

At its best, Saros feels like exceptional gameplay fused with genuine science-fiction horror cinema.

The Negatives ⚠️

As incredible as Saros is, it isn’t flawless.

The most noticeable issue comes from occasional visual glitches. Enemy particle effects and flowing trails can bug out during chaotic encounters, especially when the screen becomes overloaded with explosions and effects. Thankfully, these issues are relatively uncommon and rarely impact gameplay in a meaningful way, but they are noticeable enough to mention.

The game’s biggest weakness, however, is accessibility.

Saros is visually overwhelming by design. Between enemy projectiles, environmental effects, glowing particle storms, dynamic lighting, and the sheer density of its bullet-hell combat, the game can become sensory overload extremely quickly. Players sensitive to flashing lights, excessive visual noise, or seizures should approach with caution because this game pushes visual intensity to its absolute limit.

The PlayStation 5 haptic feedback is another mixed point. While immersive at first, the near-constant controller vibration can quickly become exhausting. Thankfully, it can be adjusted or disabled entirely, but players unaware of that option may find the experience unnecessarily irritating early on.

There’s also the inevitable comparison to Returnal. Some players may feel Saros leans too heavily on its predecessor’s structure and ideas. While I personally believe Saros fully evolves what Returnal started, the similarities are impossible to ignore.

The Experience 🎮

I was lucky enough to receive early access to Saros through Sony Interactive Entertainment, but I genuinely wasn’t prepared for what I was stepping into. What I expected was another ambitious sci-fi roguelite. What I got instead was a front-row seat to one of the most memorable cosmic horror experiences I’ve had in gaming.

Saros constantly feels like it’s balancing beauty and terror at the same time. One moment you’re standing beneath massive golden ruins illuminated by an eclipse, and the next you’re fighting through storms of bullets while your own crew slowly loses their sanity around you. There’s an oppressive atmosphere hanging over the entire game, but it never becomes emotionally hollow. Beneath all the cosmic grandeur is an intensely human story about grief, guilt, and emotional decay.

What surprised me most was how effortlessly the gameplay loop consumed me. Every run felt rewarding, even failed ones. The progression systems constantly feed you new upgrades, new builds, and new ways to approach combat, making “just one more run” impossible to resist.

And despite its difficulty, Saros never felt punishing in a frustrating way. The customization systems let me shape the challenge exactly how I wanted, which made experimentation far more enjoyable than stressful. It respects both hardcore roguelite players and people who simply want to experience its world and story.

By the time the credits rolled, I didn’t feel like I had simply played another roguelike shooter. I felt like I had experienced Housemarque fully realizing the potential they hinted at with Returnal.

At $69.99, Saros is expensive, but honestly, it earns that price tag. Between the campaign, the replayability, the progression depth, and the sheer scale of its systems, it offers an absurd amount of value.

And even if you can’t play it yourself, this is still the kind of game that deserves to be witnessed. The sort of beautiful madness you want other people to experience simply because something this ambitious doesn’t come around very often.