I stood with my back against a damp wall, heart thudding as the corridor breathed around me. You hold the controller and feel the room shrink until every creak announces danger. It switches perspectives like a coin caught mid-spin.
I didn’t pre-order a physical copy of Resident Evil Requiem. I finished it this week, almost two months after release, on PC through Steam and on a friend’s PlayStation 5. Capcom built something deliberate here: Grace’s first-person segments are claustrophobic horror; Leon’s are open, violent catharsis. The game is on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, Switch 2 and PC, and carries a typical new-release price of $69.99 (€65) on console storefronts.
At a cheap rental I ducked behind a couch. Grace’s first-person sections make fear personal.
When you play as Grace Ashcroft, the screen narrows. Your field of view becomes a theater of threats and you have to decide, in a heartbeat, whether to run or to hide. You can’t sprint forever. You get one pistol and a handful of scarce supplies, which turns each door into a gamble: open it and risk a confrontation, close it and leave an unsolved puzzle hanging.
That tension is engineered with sensory detail: muffled breathing, sudden silhouettes, the Girl as a recurring dread. Facing the Girl felt like standing in a phone booth as thunder closes in, and the game refuses to hand you a simple remedy early on. Capcom leverages restraint—fewer tools, tighter corridors—to amplify every heartbeat and make curiosity painful and addictive.
Is Resident Evil Requiem first person or third person?
It’s both. Grace’s chapters are in first person for an immersive, survival-horror pulse. Leon’s chapters snap to classic third-person over-the-shoulder angles to let you plan attacks, manage inventory, and revel in more explosive set pieces on PS5, Xbox, Switch 2, or PC.
On a dusty shooting range I emptied a clip. Leon’s third-person play scratches a different itch.
Leon Kennedy’s sections widen the stage. You carry more weapons, more ammo, and a bigger inventory. The camera gives you breathing room to choreograph violence and indulge in the variety of tools the game offers: shotgun up-close devastation, machine-gun suppression, or the satisfying precision of a sniper rifle.
The design choice here is simple and effective: one perspective to terrify, one to gratify. You switch mental gears between stealth and spectacle. If you grouse about modern shooters being the same, Requiem is a reminder that viewpoint matters more than glossy effects when you want real emotional payoff.
Which perspective is better in Resident Evil Requiem?
There’s no single answer. Grace delivers sustained dread; Leon delivers branching fun and messy creativity. If you prize atmosphere and nerve-shredding choices, Grace will cling to you. If you prefer improvisation and weapon variety, Leon will be your default. I lean Leon for sheer variety of carnage, but that margin is small.
At a friend’s place we traded controllers between chapters. The design keeps momentum high.
The alternating perspective performs a narrative trick: it prevents fatigue and keeps curiosity active. After a heavy, adrenaline-soaked Grace segment, you get to decompress with Leon and blow off steam. Then the tension ramps up again. That oscillation is a psychological lever—fear of loss when resources shrink, relief when you score a weapon, curiosity about what each door hides—that pushes you to keep playing.
And it’s smart from a market angle, too: players on Steam, the PlayStation Store, or Xbox storefronts who prefer action still get horror beats, and horror purists can savor focused terror without constant gunplay. Capcom managed to balance both without making either feel tacked on.
So tell me: did you prefer creeping as Grace, or tearing through enemies as Leon?