Reviews
[Review] ‘Omen of Sorrow’ is a Solid, Yet Shallow, Horror Icon Fighting Game
Some of Horror’s Classic Icons go toe to claw in mortal combat, but don’t pack much of a punch. Find out why in our Omen of Sorrow review.
These past few years have seen fighting game thrust back into the spotlight with most of the genre’s heavy hitters turning up for the current console generation. From Street Fighter and Tekken to Soulcalibur, Mortal Kombat, and even The King of Fighters, some have thrived while others have struggled to gain a foothold among impressive newcomers such as Dragon Ball FighterZ.
It’s an exciting time for fighting game fans though one that’s also pretty scary for a game like Omen of Sorrow. For a fledgling developer like Chilean studio AOne Games to go up against the giants that have continued to mould this genre for more than two decades must be daunting to say the least, especially when launching at full retail price.
Omen of Sorrow styles itself traditionally, sporting a familiar 2D movement system and an attack button for each limb that can chain together for devastating combos or, when paired with a specific input, unleash character-specific special moves.
What sets Omen of Sorrow apart is its choice of setting. Although fighting games are ultimately judged in terms of balance and mechanics, having a strong theme and a unique visual identity can go a long way, especially if you don’t have a popular media license or a lineage of iconic characters to fall back on.
Quite cleverly, AOne has been able to assemble a legendary roster without needing to be a film, comic, or television tie-in. We use the term “legendary” very literally here as Omen of Sorrow lets you throwdown against characters Quasimodo, Dr. Hyde, and Frankenstein’s monster, pulling from a patchwork of gothic lore and mythos. There are a couple of more exotic inclusions too, such as everybody’s favour Egyptian high priest, Imhotep. Sadly, Brendan Fraser is nowhere to be seen.
The way AOne attempts to bring these characters together isn’t quite as interesting. This isn’t the early 90s and, as such, we’ve become accustomed to every fighting game having its own story mode instead of just the basic handful of game modes and the akward cutscene here and there. This shift was championed by NetherRealm and, in truth, no developer has been able to match its knack for weaving a solid story into a fighting game, whether its Mortal Kombat’s bizarre fantasy/sci-fi mashups or the superhero showdowns of Injustice.
Although it has a dedicated story mode, the narrative thread that pulls Omen’s various myths and legends together is simply uninteresting. A series of battles bookended by dry and overly serious exchanges between its 12 playable characters, presented in drab text. It’s a weak mode and one that feels like filler, the game lacking enough content for AOne to stretch it into a convincing, enjoyable story-driven experience.
Arcade mode fares much better and at least gives you time to learn the ins and outs of a chosen character instead of constantly shifting focus. There’s nothing unique or inventive here, just a solid ladder-style lineup of battles that gradually increase in difficulty before facing a final boss.
The core fighting is pretty solid and clearly inspired by earlier 2D fighting games, feeling most akin to Street Fighter with its combination attacks, throws, and specials, as well as their accompanying inputs. Each character is defined by their moveset, some preferring a higher mobility, getting up close, or even laying down traps for their enemies to walk over. For example, the harpy-like Radegonda’s flight ability makes her the most versatile aerial character while Dr. Hyde can inject himself with various toxins. Meanwhile Imhotep can summon zombie-like thralls as well as split himself at the waist, extending his height and reach considerably.
Not all characters are quite as exciting and you’ll have to conduct your own training experiments with each of them to work out their nuances and see which best suit your own personal playstyle. While there is a practice mode on hand, Omen of Sorrow lacks any in-depth tutorials to succinctly demonstrate its finer, more advanced systems.
It carries a premise that will be of interest to classical horror fans but comes up short on content for a full price title, especially when going up against the current crop of fighting games also duking it out against one another. It’s fighting is solid and there’s an intriguing lineup of legends to choose from. However, once you’ve given its arcade and story modes a fair shake, there’s little else to draw you back in unless you’re looking to throw down against friends locally. Sadly, just days after launch, we’ve struggled to find a single match online.
Omen of Sorrow is a budget fighting game with AAA ambitions. AOne’s attempts to stretch it into something bigger don’t pay off and while there’s some enjoyment to be had, there are so many better, more polished alternatives that offer way more value for your money.
Omen of Sorrow review code on PS4 provided by the publisher.
Omen of Sorrow is out now on PS4, Xbox One, and PC.
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
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