Beast of Reincarnation review

You ever encounter a game mechanic that just makes you go, “whoa”? It arrests with its creativity, distracting you from whatever pressing mission at hand to play with this shiny new toy. Such were Beast of Reincarnation’s plant powers: its protagonist in the swordswoman Emma can extend vines at will, springing off the ground with towering growths or forming makeshift bridges with her flora-infused hair. I marvel at my newfound control, giddily swinging like Spider-Man from tower to tower or expectantly hopping onto dilapidated roofs, excited at what I might find. A ravaged landscape of ruins, robots and rabid creatures becomes a playground; a never-ending toy chest for me to plunder and experiment.

It’s a fleeting moment of ecstasy in this bleak world from Game Freak, representing their most ambitious step outside of their Pokémon comfort zone. This is not an innocent cartoon of doe-eyed children leaving home to raise pets—Beast of Reincarnation is a post-apocalyptic world set in the far-flung future, where food is scarce and a plague known as the Blight delivers an effective death sentence. Most humans have transferred their souls into robotic constructs called Golems, but this solution proves fruitless—countless centuries of repressed emotions drove many robots to madness, and the few who escaped this corruption have taken to repeating humanity’s mistakes, lording over their former flesh-and-blood kinsmen in an ironic display of classism. With the titular Beast living up to its name every hundred years to propagate more Blight, humanity has resigned itself to a cycle of despair.

And yet, it’s in the depths of said despair does Beast of Reincarnation echo a voice of hope; a message that’s made me a diehard adherent, eager to amplify its message. I say this knowing quite well it bears all the hallmarks of a modern flawed gem: overeager with ambition, bursting at the seams with ideas it can’t fully deliver. It’s an action RPG framed within a soul-searching narrative staged upon a photorealistic setting—nothing Game Freak is known for, yet prime for their infamous performance issues to muck up. Yet it’s that very novelty that sets it apart from your typical parry-heavy sword-fighting game, with flashy gameplay and heart-wrenching humanity woven together into something breathing and living. It’s alive. 

Previews have likened Beast of Reincarnation as a fusion of Sekiro’s swordplay with Final Fantasy VII: Rebirth’s menus and spell-casting. This is largely true, although director Kota Furushima correctly affirms this game is no Souls-like, presenting an approachable model with its abundance of checkpoints, multiple difficulty options, and the presence of Koo—a stray dog serving as Emma’s companion; one also imbued with the very same powers over nature. (The very “Blight” that’s consumed the world, as it happens.) Successful parries aren’t just rewarded with openings—they fill both characters’ respective gauges, which provide the opportunity to unleash their special skills in Blade Arts (Emma) and Bloom Arts (Koo). Koo doesn’t just fight alongside you: he’s another branch of your movepool; a dependable reservoir of damage-dealing status effects to juggle amidst Emma’s acrobatics. 

It’s here where Beast of Reincarnation’s combat shines: mastering its rhythm provides a wealth of approaches, be it simply piling on damage or melding numerous inflictions together to gradually whittle away at the opponent’s health. Players will wisely exploit the latter, as most all Golems and “Malefact” creatures you battle are susceptible to their respective weaknesses in Burn, Poison, Corrosion, and whatever other effects at your disposal. Fully wreath your opponent in flame, and they’ll be left stunned for you string combo after combo; unleash enough attacks to wear down their stagger gauge, and they’re easy pickings for a flashy execution. With how the game encourages build-making with EXP and unlockable skills, the game is prime for experimentation, allowing players to pursue a variety of playstyles. 

Naturally, combat’s where those aforementioned plant powers get their chance to shine. Emma dances across the battlefield with grace, spawning plants every which way to immobilize, shower and pierce through enemies. You’ll summon distant plants to swing away from precarious situations, tag-team with Koo to launch enemies into the air and toss projectiles into your combos, and spring up, up, and away before slamming back down to earth; a deadly swarm of flowers and vines overwhelming your foes. Giant, mutated beasts in the Nushi serve as the game’s boss fights, swipes of antlers and hooves clashing with Emma’s sword as we desperately hack away at their stagger gauge, working in coordination with Koo to inflict effect after effect. Beast of Reincarnation is fast, furious, and simply very cool to watch and play.

Goodness, I can keep talking about how much I love this combat. Say there’s a crowd of enemies impeding my path—they’d surely slaughter me in seconds, so should I send Koo in as a decoy before charging in? But which foe should he attack: a weaker Golem to whittle down their numbers, or the pack leader to distract them as I make my approach? Should said approach involve sneaking through tall grass and enacting an assassination, or do I take to the air via vine and bring my sword down upon a Golem’s skull? Do I use Emma’s bow or crossbow to exploit weaknesses and speed up the status effect bars, or simply to pick off aerial monsters? What if Malefacts launch a surprise attack on the Golems—do I bide my time and wait, or test my luck and charge in using Koo’s binding ability to group them all together? Whatever the case, the game’s open level design carefully plays into each encounter, providing sky-high branches and cliffside vantage points for a malleable approach. (And in the event you’re clearly under-leveled? Go out into the semi-open world and rack up some experience. Maybe scavenge for some goodies and equipment while you’re at.)

It’s the clashing factions I want to emphasize—drawing from the likes of Nausicaa, Princess Mononoke, NieR, and even a touch of Star Wars to illustrate its tragic setting, Beast of Reincarnation paints a picture of how life persists even in this ravaged world. Mutated rats scurry beneath your feet in the ruins of subways, repurposed as makeshift forts between warring robots. Golems are littered across the Japanese landscape in ill-fated quests to reclaim their humanity, from hidden camps replicating another life to bodies desperately clutching to forgotten books to drifters dwelling in landmarks from millennia past. ("I bet you think I'm crazy,” says one robot in a dilapidated building we can’t begin to recognize) Malefacts you hunt can be harvested for meat, vital for staving off hunger; otherwise, running on empty means Emma and Koo can’t heal gradually. Oil, dirt and blood gradually cake the duo from their many battles, and that’s when it’s time for a nice shower.

Their sanctuary in the Cleanse Walker—a bipedal vehicle stepping straight out of the Battle of Endor—pulses with the game’s beating heart. A delicate piano rendition of the main theme by Kow Otani (Shadow of the Colossus) welcomes Emma home, washing off the grime and harvesting her growing seeds for fellow orphan, Kagura, to cook. The ambiguous bond between this found family of four—including Brad: their crusty, enigmatic guide who clearly knows more than he’s letting on—is key; no one knows what they’re doing cramped in this walking apartment, really, least of all those propagating the only status quo they’ve ever known (Emma) or wavering under the burden of their responsibilities (Brad). Beneath every shared meal, every head scratch, every diary entry is a living being prodding at the walls of their shell.  

The “emotionless soldier learns to love” narrative is well-worn, yet Beast of Reincarnation’s interwoven themes and gameplay interactions are what make for a compelling hook. Stepping outside the boundaries of her lifelong duties as a Sealer, Emma is caught between robotically following her orders and following the instinct of human curiosity, echoing newfound entries in her vernacular—ranging from “simpleton” to “pity”—like an inquisitive toddler. Antagonistic foils in her journey operate on malformed examples of the love she attempts to pursue, whereas her growing confidants in Violet—a mysterious apparition acting as her conscience—and little Kagura are where the game bears its soul. (Particularly the latter, contrasting adolescents who’ve two very different lives of servitude and how they come to trust and depend on one another.)

Yet like any growing toddler, Beast of Reincarnation stumbles in the learning process. The game mostly does a good job in emphasizing one enemy to attack—think how Zelda: Ocarina of Time centralizes focus with Z-Targeting—but mobs infrequently swarm poor Emma, leaving inadequate time for the player to react, dodge, and parry accordingly. To cite one example: a certain boss summons enemy hordes as their central gimmick, yet dividing attention between the small fry proves improbable when the big bad comes swooping in to ruin your perfect parry. The lack of coordination breeds chaos, and it flat-out doesn’t work. The overall combat is showy and exciting, but there remain kinks to work out. 

The big sticking point, however, will be performance—I confess that as someone who shrugged off the problems plaguing Final Fantasy VII: Rebirth and The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remastered on my PlayStation 5, my neutrality largely remained the same here. Emphasis on “largely”; while I found any occasional framerate dips didn’t impact combat, there’s no shortage of distant (or not-so-distant) texture flickering, split-second slowdown and aliased graphics lathered across Beasts of Reincarnation. The game offers both Performance and Quality Modes, but while I stuck with the former, I couldn’t spot any notable difference between the two. (Barring the grotesque “Cinematic Mode” for cutscenes—do yourself a favor and switch it to Performance. You’ll thank me.)

Point being: Pokémon Scarlet and Violet this ain’t—the fidelity alone’s leagues above anything Game Freak’s done before—but I imagine more than several will find the overall performance a turn-off. And while that’s a shame, I can’t deny there exist other problems: the game’s world is certainly inviting, but its environmental variety is content with recycling the same ravaged greenery and rusty cliffsides. Inspired concepts in ever-changing forests and a calendarized timeframe feel undeveloped and superfluous. There are typos in the script. Beast of Reincarnation begins in media res practically not once but twice, obstructing our understanding of the story. (Particularly the circumstances surrounding Violet, who, while undeniably vital to Emma’s development, makes a head-scratching first impression.) 

Yet for all its imperfections, I think back to why the game overrode its flaws in ways beyond flashy combat. Beast of Reincarnation invites us to look at a world that can often seem relentlessly cruel, buffeted by countless existential crises, and ask ourselves: what do we have around us that we’re thankful for? Who is in our corner? What reprieves can we lose ourselves in? Might there be a loving dog waiting for us at home?

Beast of Reincarnation frequently weaves this thesis statement into its gameplay. The rapport system builds Emma’s relationship with her new housemates: by feeding Koo treats, we increase his skill slots for battle; by confiding in Kagura, we improve her output for stat-boosting meals. As Emma lies in repose at a makeshift camp site, Kagura excitedly calls in about the new meal she’ll cook, determined to win over Emma’s neutral taste buds. Koo sniffs out landmarks and scavenges through the scrapped metal of fallen Golems, unearthing goodies to gift me. (Good boy!) I might not understand the calendar’s purpose, yet as the sun rises on a Monday, one look at Emma and Koo’s filthy coats has me mutter, “I should go see how Kagura’s doing.”  

Perhaps, then, Beast of Reincarnation isn’t so different from Game Freak’s flagship franchise. Pokémon’s strongest appeal isn’t the number-crunching or the claim to fame by catching ‘em all, but in the invisible bonds and personalities we project onto every one of our collectible critters. Even despite their relative muteness, Emma and her ragtag bunch are more explicit in their motives and desires, but they subscribe to a budding partnership all the same; one fostering a seed of hope, blooming forth human connection in this dire, imperfect, sheltered little world. We might not be filling in the blanks with self-insert avatars, but we remain responsible for maintaining their individual relationships all the same. 

Who wouldn’t get attached amidst all that? Beast of Reincarnation can be clumsy, but it’s earnestly genuine in carving out its own organic niche, dedicated to performing feats of wonder much as it’s resolute in proving that even in a world such as this, we can still pet the dog. Actually, you’re straight-up encouraged to do so. Maybe not the most awe-inspiring feature, but I can't think of a better example in how it won my heart.