Returnal (2021): The Review

Overview

Returnal is brutally demanding from the very first moment, yet beneath all of its punishing intensity lies a game that perfectly captures everything that makes Housemarque’s design philosophy so electrifying. Its haunting atmosphere, strange sci-fi identity, and constantly shifting levels create an experience that feels unpredictable in the best possible way, where every run becomes a tense fight for survival fueled by razor-sharp movement and chaotic bullet-hell combat. Fully embracing its roguelike structure without compromise, Returnal delivers more than just a technical showcase for the PlayStation 5, it’s an adrenaline-fueled masterclass in precision, momentum, and relentless arcade action.

Score: 8,5 out of 10

The Positives ✅

Death in Returnal doesn’t feel like failure. It feels inevitable. The game establishes that almost immediately. Selene crashes onto Atropos, explores its hostile ruins, dies horribly, and then wakes up beside the wreckage of her ship again as if the planet itself refuses to let her leave. Over and over, the cycle repeats. New rooms appear. Old paths vanish. Audio logs echo through abandoned corridors like messages from a version of herself already broken by the loop. Before long, Returnal stops feeling like a traditional roguelike and starts feeling like a psychological horror story disguised as one.

What makes the game so remarkable is how perfectly every single element feeds into that central feeling of repetition and deterioration. The gameplay, narrative, audio design, visuals, and even the structure of progression all reinforce Selene’s mental and emotional state. Atropos itself feels less like a planet and more like a living manifestation of grief, guilt, and unresolved trauma. The deeper Selene ventures into its shifting landscapes, the more the game begins unraveling psychologically alongside her.

And honestly, few modern AAA games feel this mechanically alive. Returnal’s movement is extraordinary. Selene moves with a fluidity that almost feels unfair once the combat fully clicks into place. Dashing through projectiles, grappling across arenas, sprinting between enemies, and maintaining momentum while bullets flood the screen creates this incredible rhythm where survival becomes less about hiding and more about constant controlled aggression. It’s one of the rare shooters where movement itself becomes intoxicating.

Combat is equally phenomenal. Housemarque took the chaos of arcade bullet-hell shooters and somehow translated it into a fully 3D third-person action game without sacrificing clarity or intensity. Every encounter feels overwhelming at first, then strangely elegant once you settle into the flow of combat. Projectiles flood arenas in impossible patterns while enemies force constant repositioning, creating fights that feel almost musical in their pacing. The adrenaline system especially rewards precision and confidence beautifully because the game constantly pushes players toward mastery instead of passive survival.

The DualSense implementation also deserves enormous praise because it genuinely enhances immersion rather than functioning as simple gimmickry. Rainfall subtly tapping through the controller, adaptive triggers altering weapon functionality, environmental vibrations pulsing during combat — it all contributes to making Atropos feel tangible in a way very few games achieve. Combined with the game’s incredible 3D audio design, the atmosphere becomes almost suffocating at times.

Visually, Returnal is stunning in this cold, alien sort of way. Atropos constantly feels ancient and unknowable, full of impossible architecture, decaying statues, endless ruins, and landscapes that seem suspended between organic life and cosmic machinery. Every biome carries its own oppressive identity, from overgrown forests to crimson wastelands and abyssal depths. The game never fully explains what Atropos actually is, and that ambiguity only makes the world feel more haunting.

Then there’s the story, which is easily one of the most fascinating aspects of the experience. Returnal slowly unfolds through fragmented memories, environmental storytelling, surreal house sequences, and increasingly unreliable narration. Selene herself is a deeply compelling protagonist because she feels emotionally exhausted from the very beginning. The game constantly blurs the line between reality, memory, and hallucination in ways that become increasingly unsettling the longer the cycle continues.

The house sequences especially remain some of the most memorable horror moments I’ve experienced in years. They completely shift the game’s tone from cosmic sci-fi into deeply intimate psychological horror, weaponizing ordinary domestic spaces in ways that feel profoundly uncomfortable. Few games understand how terrifying familiarity can become when distorted by trauma.

The Negatives ⚠️

As incredible as Returnal is, it’s also a game that absolutely will not work for everyone. The difficulty is relentless, and while later updates softened some progression frustrations slightly, the core experience still demands patience, repetition, and mechanical mastery in ways many players may find exhausting rather than rewarding.

The roguelike structure especially creates a divisive rhythm. Runs can last incredibly long, particularly during the earlier portions of the game when players are still learning systems and enemy behaviors. Dying after a strong multi-hour run can feel emotionally devastating, especially because randomness occasionally results in wildly uneven builds or resource availability. Personally, I think the repetition strengthens the game’s themes enormously, but there’s no denying the structure can become mentally draining over time.

The story’s ambiguity will also frustrate some players. Returnal constantly hints at deeper explanations regarding Selene, Atropos, the crash, and the recurring imagery surrounding motherhood and trauma, but it rarely offers definitive answers. The narrative is intentionally fragmented and symbolic, which works beautifully atmospherically, but players expecting concrete explanations may walk away unsatisfied.

Enemy variety, while strong overall, occasionally becomes repetitive during longer stretches of repeated runs through earlier biomes. Because players revisit certain areas frequently after death, some encounters inevitably lose a bit of their impact through repetition even if the core combat remains enjoyable mechanically.

There are also moments where the randomness inherent to roguelike progression can slightly undermine the otherwise skill-focused gameplay. Certain weapon drops or parasite combinations dramatically affect run quality, and while skill remains the most important factor overall, some runs undeniably feel more manageable than others simply due to RNG.

And honestly, the emotional heaviness of the experience can become exhausting. Returnal is not interested in providing comfort. The atmosphere is lonely, oppressive, and relentlessly melancholic from beginning to end. Even moments of progress often feel temporary because the game constantly reinforces the idea that Selene may never truly escape the cycle consuming her.

The Experience 🎮

Playing Returnal feels like being trapped inside someone else’s breakdown.

Not in a melodramatic sense, but in the way the game slowly erodes certainty until every environment, memory, and narrative detail starts feeling unstable. The further I progressed, the less Atropos felt like a real place and the more it felt like an emotional landscape built entirely from guilt and unresolved grief. The repetition stopped feeling mechanical after a while and became psychological instead. Every death carried this strange mixture of frustration, dread, and determination that few games manage to evoke so consistently.

What stayed with me most was the loneliness. Even during intense combat encounters, Returnal feels deeply isolated. Selene spends most of the game talking to herself, listening to fragmented recordings left behind by alternate versions of herself, or wandering through ruins that seem completely indifferent to her suffering. There’s this constant sense that the planet is observing her rather than attacking her outright, almost studying how much punishment she can endure before finally breaking completely.

At the same time, the gameplay itself becomes almost euphoric once mastered. There’s an incredible transformation that happens somewhere midway through the experience where chaos suddenly becomes clarity. Bullet patterns that once felt impossible become readable. Movement becomes instinctive. Combat stops feeling like survival and starts feeling like flow-state. Few games create that sense of earned mastery this effectively.

The horror also hit me harder than I expected. Not because of jump scares or grotesque imagery, although the game certainly has both, but because of how emotionally intimate the terror eventually becomes. The house sequences especially unsettled me in ways cosmic horror usually doesn’t. There’s something deeply disturbing about how the game juxtaposes alien landscapes with mundane domestic memories until both start contaminating each other emotionally.

And honestly, I think that’s why Returnal lingers in my head long after finishing it. The game refuses to fully explain itself because trauma itself often doesn’t make perfect sense. Memory becomes fragmented. Time becomes distorted. Certain moments replay endlessly while others disappear completely. Returnal captures that emotional confusion remarkably well through both its story and mechanics.

By the end, Returnal didn’t feel like a game about escaping a hostile alien planet. It felt like a game about being unable to escape yourself. It’s difficult, emotionally exhausting, mechanically brilliant, visually haunting, and occasionally frustrating in ways that feel almost intentional.

And honestly, few modern AAA games take risks this strange anymore.