Reviews
[Review] ‘Call of Cthulhu’ is an Immersive RPG, But Struggles to Remain Consistently Enjoyable
See if we can play with madness in our Call of Cthulhu Review.
On paper, Cyanide’s Call of Cthulhu has the potential to be a deeply enriching dive into classic Lovecraft mythos thanks to a heavy influence from the 1981 tabletop pen and paper role-playing game of the same name. and you know what? Those pen and paper roots are where Call of Cthulhu tends to be strongest, but that’s also a part of the reason the game’s weaknesses are so prominent.
You play as private detective Edward Pierce, stuck in a rut via existential crisis when an intriguing case lands in his lap. Pierce must travel to Darkwater Island to investigate the death of the Hawkins family, who all tragically died in a fire at their home. Pierce hasn’t got much to go on, but a disturbing painting by the family’s mother could provide an otherworldy clue. Before you know it, there’s cultists, unspeakable creatures, and a sense of impending doom around every green-hued corner.
Call of Cthulhu is presented in first-person and gives you a procession of large open areas to explore and investigate during each chapter. Pierce can interact with the people of Darkwater, asking them questions to gain fresh insight and information on the case. Here is where Call of Cthulhu shines. The game doesn’t point out its clues to you in an obvious way, rather, it asks you to pay attention to what you see and what you’re told and go back over the notes in Pierce’s journal. As you complete smaller objectives you gain points to upgrade your skills in deduction, conversation, and knowledge of the occult among others. These effectively improve your chances of succeeding in certain sections of the game, be it gleaning extra info from an artifact or sweet-talking a disgruntled fisherman into starting a ruckus.
While this method oversimplifies interaction in some ways, it makes for a great spin on the visual novel genre where you have a bit more control. Not so much a ‘walking simulator’, but rather a digital equivalent of a pen and paper RPG. This means you can fail an opportunity to progress one way, and still have a variety of other routes available depending on how skilled you are at a certain thing. The system is the most in-depth part of Call of Cthulhu and it’s a very good reason to persevere when certain other aspects of the game fall spectacularly short.
You see, while Call of Cthulhu talks a good game, whenever it tries to be a more ‘traditional’ video game it struggles. Stealth is introduced a few chapters in and is of the insta-fail variety. The first time it appears it’s fairly easy to navigate, though the game doesn’t explain itself very well in regards to how it works. It’s when it shows up the next time that it’s a frustrating mess. You’re hunted by a foe, unable to defend yourself without obtaining a certain weapon. Problem is, the stealth is implemented in such a patchy, ineffectual way that it makes traversing the environment a harrowing affair as you’ll be killed the second you’re touched by the enemy and its view of you is a tad vague.
Combat is another sore point. It’s very, very rare, confined mostly to situational button prompts that you can barely class as combat to begin with, but it does appear in an ever-so-slightly more fleshed out form later in the game, and it is wholly unpleasant and ill-fitting with the game. It’s telling that the source material has an aversion to combat in the first place, but quite why that extends to shonky stealth is a bit of a mystery, especially when Cyanide is no stranger to it.
These are somewhat brief ripples in the water thankfully. The structure outside of it is so well handled you can almost forgive these indiscretions. Take the way the game handles sanity. It’s woven into every kind of action you take, and your understanding, or lack thereof, can determine just how Pierce’s psyche holds up over the ten or so hours he spends on the damned island. That then flows through into the game’s branching choices and eventual multiple endings too, and the results are satisfying even with the more risible things you have to endure to get there.
These deep systems are nothing though if Call of Cthulhu can’t capture the tone and atmosphere of Lovecraft’s work, and for the most part, it does that exceedingly well, but this is a game with a fair few rough edges to navigate in the technical department. Visually-speaking, Cthulhu is a suitably uneven beast. On the one hand, it’s strong in its world design. The somber, grim greens of the game’s visual atmosphere wash over everything, giving an ethereal look to this once-proud fishing town. The biggest compliment you can pay Call of Cthulhu is that it often manages to feel positively Lovecraftian. Not all the time (there are some sections that are a tad humdrum and could be from any first-person horror), but a significant portion of it.
Detail isn’t always Call of Cthulhu’s friend sadly. The character models are largely stunningly similar, and for a game that does not exactly have the biggest cast of characters around, it’s rather unfortunate how cheap that makes Call of Cthulhu look. The animation commits a comparable crime. Lip-sync is well out, and character models move rigidly and mechanically. It surprisingly doesn’t take as much out of the immersion as you’d expect, but the wrong combination of issues (which is an all-too-common occurrence) really can derail the mood.
Throw in an endgame that funnels you towards the conclusion in a far more basic manner than the opening sections and the overall feeling I came away with was one of frustration. There is a lot of promise here, but not quite enough of it fulfilled. The combat could have been done away with completely (rare as it is anyway) and the stealth either ditched or simplified. The strong suit of Call of Cthulhu is in its conversation/investigation mechanics. Sure the game would have been a little lacking in variety if that’s all there was but honestly, it would have been a much more consistently enjoyable and immersive adventure for it.
Call of Cthulhu review code provided by the publisher.
Call of Cthulhu is available now on PS4, Xbox One, and PC.
Reviews
‘Cape Fear’ Redefines A Cutthroat Classic & Turns The American Dream Into A Psychological Nightmare [Review]
Hollywood has been stuck in a trend where a recognizable property — any recognizable property — holds more value than an original idea. This has led to a trend where a slew of acclaimed films have transitioned over to television and become limited series, because why not?
Which has led to a very mixed bag of results that’s usually viewed as a hollow exercise in IP renewal that’s become a growing cliche that’s something to mock. Dead Ringers, Fatal Attraction, Presumed Innocent, and even The Birds are just some of the most recent titles in the movie-to-limited series pipeline. Admittedly, this formula can still work. It just needs to actually have not only a point of view, but a point, otherwise it’s destined to disappear into the vast streaming abyss.
Cape Fear definitely has a point of view and is well aware that it’s the fourth proper adaptation of this story — fifth if The Simpsons’ masterful “Cape Feare” parody is included. It’s an adaptation that’s not only aware of its past’s baggage, but intentionally embraces it and uses it to its advantage. Nick Antosca’s Cape Fear is so exciting because it functions as a remix of every version of this story — the ’60s film, Martin Scorsese’s ’90s remake, and John D. MacDonald’s original novel, The Executioners — to create this glorious amalgamation of the narrative. It’s not unlike what was done with Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal series and how it remixed the breadth of Thomas Harris’ works and their cinematic adaptations.
This approach is most effective when certain iconic scenes from the ’90s film are recontextualized and given to different characters in order to make grander thematic statements. It’s a really striking approach that reflects the generational ripples and overlap between these adaptations, yet it’s never distracting or ostentatious to anyone who is experiencing this story for the first time. It helps this series feel different from the deluge of forgettable adaptations that are flooding the market.
On paper, Antosca is the perfect showrunner to tell this story. He has an impressive body of work to pull from that includes horror series like Channel Zero, Hannibal, and Brand New Cherry Flavor, but also lots of true-crime titles like The Act, A Friend of the Family, and Candy. This series falls squarely within these two extremes as it blurs the lines between these genres and styles of horror storytelling. It’s Big Little Lies on bath salts. Cape Fear perhaps doesn’t need to exist, but it’s still a hell of a terrifying experience that has something timely to say.
Horror is full of stories in which one bad day is all it takes to break someone and turn them into a completely different person. Cape Fear isn’t doing exactly this. It’s more of a psychological waterboarding until the target’s sense of self is eroded to rubble. However, it takes the kernel of this idea and expands it onto the pristine ideal of the picturesque American family. It plays with the self-aware realization that the stories we tell are not necessarily what we think they are.
It’s a story about forgiveness, salvation, and revenge that blows up the Bowden family when a violent offender, Max Cady (Javier Bardem), is released from prison and systematically sets his sights on the people he holds accountable. Anna and Tom Bowden (Amy Adams and Patrick Wilson), the married couple who represented his case in court, receive a rude awakening when Cady’s psychological torture tour begins. Cape Fear, as a property, is most famously known for being the ultimate cat-and-mouse psychological thriller. This rendition culminates in such an explosive climax that’s right out of a slasher film.
Antosca was involved with an unproduced Friday the 13th reboot draft back in 2015, and there are certainly moments in which Max Cady moves with the hulking intensity of Jason Voorhees. So much of what makes all this work rests on Bardem’s complex performance. He’s very careful not to just copy Robert Mitchum or Robert De Niro’s versions of Cady, while he also taps into a terrifying intensity that feels completely different from what he brought forward with No Country for Old Men’s Anton Chigurh.
Apple TV’s new series also introduces a mental injury to Cady that adds psychological fractures that pull him between different versions of events as he struggles to grasp the truth. It’s an element that’s not exactly necessary and often feels like a convenient obstacle that can be activated whenever necessary. However, it allows for some creative visual flourishes and more opportunities for Bardem to get lost in Cady’s complexities.
Opposite Bardem’s Cady, Adams and Wilson do some of their best work as Anna and Tom. Anna is much more front and center than Tom, and Cape Fear is really Adams and Bardem’s time to shine. Wilson still does amazing, understated work, especially whenever the rug gets pulled out from under him regarding someone in his family. The visceral, brutal violence that Cady introduces to the Bowden family hits hard and highlights the anger and intensity that’s fundamental to this story.
What Cape Fear does best is its enlightening deconstruction of the ideal American family, how much work it takes to preserve such a pure thing, and the lengths that people go when they feel like the sanctity of this union is under fire. All it takes is for one of these foundational pillars to weaken before the whole unit becomes compromised. It moves the damage and pressure from one family member to the next as everyone struggles, and it’s unclear what will be left of this family when all is said and done.
This dynamic makes Cape Fear’s story so much more layered and interesting than if the series were just focused on Cady, Anna, and Tom, rather than making their children as much of a priority. Each member of the Bowden family experiences their own obstacles and arcs, although Natalie (Lily Collias) and Zack’s (Joe Anders) storylines are often the most grating. It all boils down to forgiveness, identity, and wanting to be perceived as the person we think we are, versus how we’re viewed by the public, and the dangerous dissonance that can exist between these separate selves.
These ideas are at their most potent when Cape Fear taps into the growing paranoia that bubbles up to the surface and becomes unbearable, so that even the littlest action is triggering. These moments are usually captured through a more erratic filming style that ramps up the tension for both the characters and the audience, unsure of what will strike and when.
Cape Fear never struggles to create uncomfortable setpieces where the anxiety just crescendos and hangs over the scene. On this note, the series’ musical score really captures the perfect aesthetic. It immediately evokes the suspenseful power of the previous Cape Fear films whenever Bernard Herrmann’s virtuosic original theme kicks in. It’s magic every single time.
Antosca delivers an exhilarating update to a classic thriller that pushes its source material to exciting, new places that justify its existence. It’s an exciting story that’s full of terrifying performances and cataclysmic consequences. Admittedly, Cape Fear could have been shortened to eight episodes rather than ten. There are a few plot threads that feel unnecessary and artificially expanded upon, but every episode is still an adrenaline-pumping experience.
If nothing else, it reminds audiences why Cape Fear is such an evergreen story that’s lasted the test of time and will continue to unnerve and get under the skin of whole new generations.
The 10-episode series will make its global debut on June 5 with a two-episode premiere on Apple TV, followed by new episodes every Friday through July 31, 2026.
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