You can’t always knock it out of the park. Sometimes you just need to get it done and move on. Maybe you can’t even be bothered to really care about it. It can mean different things to different people, but to the Resident Evil team, it is Resident Evil: Code Veronica. That might be a bit generous. Had Code Veronica merely set out to provide a by-the-numbers entry, it might have made a better impression. Instead, in Code Veronica’s attempt to simply check all the boxes, the pencil it used kept punching holes in the paper.
The tired tropes and clunky gameplay of the bygone era of Resident Evil are all present, but the game falls down several more flights to ensure an unpleasant experience. In a game about zombies, giant worms, and super-powered people, Code Veronica still manages to break my suspension of disbelief. It rips nuance from its characters, as it places them in a story scenario that had no reason to exist. But even if these were the worst sins committed by Code Veronica, it would still be digestible. Code Veronica manages to mix boring, annoying, and offensive to create something that, simply put, is dumb and insulting. It was destined to be the nail in the franchise coffin. The game everyone would point to when asked where it all went wrong. Thank God for Resident Evil 4.
You can’t talk Code Veronica without addressing the loud and obnoxious elephant in the room, Steve. You just want to punch him. Dressed like a failed J-pop star, career teenager Steve meanders around the zombie-infested island, unconcerned about his own survival. He seems thrilled by the whole thing in fact. Never mind his parents are dead, Steve gets a cool gun. Our second hero’s priorities are a little disheveled. Steve’s whole schtick is that he doesn’t trust people. Something he whines with all the depth and sensitivity of an over-privileged high schooler. But Steve will contradict himself every chance he gets. After demonstrating his love of guns, akimbo style, Steve asserts to Claire “See, you can depend on me.” Steve then immediately complains, “You see, this thing (his gun) is much more reliable than any person.” Those two lines are in the same conversation by the way – sequentially. Then the game dares to turn on the somber music to signify that this attitude has some deeper meaning. Oh, poor tormented soul. Are you really tying to make us care for him, game? Really, Steve’s only purpose is to thirst after Claire but as creepy as possible. The game will dismiss his actions or treat them as some blooming love. But when Steve goes to kiss Claire while she sleeps, you realize the writers have no idea what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. Claire and Steve separate often, as is required by the horror genre, but he will occasionally and accidently stumble into the scene to save Claire from some impending doom. In one of the game’s more unintentionally humorous scenes, Claire stares down the barrel of the villain’s rifle when Steve bursts through a door like the Kool-Aid man crashing a frat party, “what’s going on?” We haven’t seen Steve in a good hour before this. Did I mention he can fly a cargo plane? This is where the game really begins to test my disbelief. The best I can say of the guy is that he makes for one of the more unique boss fights later, but that is about it. Steve exemplifies everything that was wrong with Resident Evil’s design philosophy at the time - completely lacking in self-awareness while believing they were the coolest guy in the room.
Let’s talk about other ways the game insults us. Code Veronica has this habit of ramping up then blasting the shock and awe music for the most mundane of encounters. Right from the get-go, Code Veronica throws shambling zombies at you. They are standard at this point, and hardly worth getting worked up over. Suddenly, the music changes, gradually increasing the tension. It tells you something is coming - something big, bad, and horrifying then you turn the corner and – oh it’s another zombie. Just one zombie sometimes. Scary. It has all the impact of letting the air out of a balloon. Code Veronica does this more than a few times and in a few different ways, including with its door transitions. These are meant to hide loading screens, but occasionally the game flavors standard door opening with heart beats and hesitation. Slowly the knob turns. The heart beats intensify. Surely, a horrible sight awaits you beyond the door and - oh, it’s nothing. Literally just another room. The game insists that you be scared because it does not know how to produce the feeling naturally. Please clap. Beyond frights, Code Veronica further demands you believe the absurd.
One of the appeals of Claire was that she was normal. Sure, she is Chris’ brother, but survival horror depends on the fallibility of the would-be survivor. In the opening cutscene of Code Veronica, Claire has infiltrated a heavily guarded Umbrella corporate tower with all the subtly of a nuke. She dodges guards, weaves around the Vulcan cannon of an attack helicopter, then blows up an explosive barrel taking out 10 or so guards James Bond style. Somehow, after all this, she is captured by some random guy. Oh well, maybe Claire’s newfound abilities will prove useful on the island. Nope. All of Claire’s super spy training vanishes when you take control of her. Now, one zombie, barely aware of her presence, becomes a huge problem. Considering all that happened 10 minutes prior, I don’t believe any of this. Claire will then spend the back half of the game, sidelined by her brother. After everything she did, Claire doesn’t even get to fight the final boss or make any meaningful impact after the man arrives. RE2 remake was such a vast improvement to the character that its hard not look back and laugh.
A similar problem applies to our mustache twirling villain, Wesker, who makes his superhuman debut in this game. Wesker, high on bioweapon super juice can now run at super speeds, punch with the force of a steam engine, and jump tall buildings in a single bound, yet somehow normies Chris and Claire are problems for him. Well, they were supposed to be normies. The power creep is real and completely invalidates any horror the game is trying to impress upon you. Umbrella insider and S.T.A.R.S betrayer normal guy Albert Wesker was far more compelling than whatever this is. He helped establish that the real villains of the Resident Evil games weren’t the monsters, but greedy people. None of that matters now. Honestly, Wesker’s part was best concluded in RE1. He did not need to become a reoccurring villain, and Code Veronica were his first steps in the wrong direction.
Where the game really shows its age is in its handling of Alfred Ashford. This first act, male villain adopts the identity of his twin sister in dress and speech while wearing a wig. Code Veronica handles this as well as you might expect. Alfred embodies the depraved transsexual trope, supporting the social stigma of male femininity because only villains do that. The game chooses transvestism to illustrate Alfred’s mental illness. Never mind the fact that he murdered countless people, it’s the dress that’s the problem. And of the countless things Claire could insult Alfred with, she calls him “You cross-dressing freak.” I get that Code Veronica came out in the early 2000s and mindset wasn’t exactly uncommon at the time, but a franchise as popular as Resident Evil should be ahead of the curve instead making low blows.
To cap it all off, the game ends where it begins. Chris declares that it is time to take down Umbrella, just like he did in RE1. Like every protagonist has done just before the credits roll. At least other games built on the story. In RE2, we were introduced to new characters and how they became involved in the grander scheme. In RE3, we learn the fate of Racoon City, which would lead into the events of RE4. Here, Claire and Chris make a wrong turn at Albuquerque. Nothing of significance happens. Nothing new is learned. No character growth occurs. It is filler in every sense of the word. If you must experience it, watch a Youtube long play. It makes for good schlock without having to suffer through the game yourself.
The tired tropes and clunky gameplay of the bygone era of Resident Evil are all present, but the game falls down several more flights to ensure an unpleasant experience. In a game about zombies, giant worms, and super-powered people, Code Veronica still manages to break my suspension of disbelief. It rips nuance from its characters, as it places them in a story scenario that had no reason to exist. But even if these were the worst sins committed by Code Veronica, it would still be digestible. Code Veronica manages to mix boring, annoying, and offensive to create something that, simply put, is dumb and insulting. It was destined to be the nail in the franchise coffin. The game everyone would point to when asked where it all went wrong. Thank God for Resident Evil 4.
You can’t talk Code Veronica without addressing the loud and obnoxious elephant in the room, Steve. You just want to punch him. Dressed like a failed J-pop star, career teenager Steve meanders around the zombie-infested island, unconcerned about his own survival. He seems thrilled by the whole thing in fact. Never mind his parents are dead, Steve gets a cool gun. Our second hero’s priorities are a little disheveled. Steve’s whole schtick is that he doesn’t trust people. Something he whines with all the depth and sensitivity of an over-privileged high schooler. But Steve will contradict himself every chance he gets. After demonstrating his love of guns, akimbo style, Steve asserts to Claire “See, you can depend on me.” Steve then immediately complains, “You see, this thing (his gun) is much more reliable than any person.” Those two lines are in the same conversation by the way – sequentially. Then the game dares to turn on the somber music to signify that this attitude has some deeper meaning. Oh, poor tormented soul. Are you really tying to make us care for him, game? Really, Steve’s only purpose is to thirst after Claire but as creepy as possible. The game will dismiss his actions or treat them as some blooming love. But when Steve goes to kiss Claire while she sleeps, you realize the writers have no idea what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. Claire and Steve separate often, as is required by the horror genre, but he will occasionally and accidently stumble into the scene to save Claire from some impending doom. In one of the game’s more unintentionally humorous scenes, Claire stares down the barrel of the villain’s rifle when Steve bursts through a door like the Kool-Aid man crashing a frat party, “what’s going on?” We haven’t seen Steve in a good hour before this. Did I mention he can fly a cargo plane? This is where the game really begins to test my disbelief. The best I can say of the guy is that he makes for one of the more unique boss fights later, but that is about it. Steve exemplifies everything that was wrong with Resident Evil’s design philosophy at the time - completely lacking in self-awareness while believing they were the coolest guy in the room.
Let’s talk about other ways the game insults us. Code Veronica has this habit of ramping up then blasting the shock and awe music for the most mundane of encounters. Right from the get-go, Code Veronica throws shambling zombies at you. They are standard at this point, and hardly worth getting worked up over. Suddenly, the music changes, gradually increasing the tension. It tells you something is coming - something big, bad, and horrifying then you turn the corner and – oh it’s another zombie. Just one zombie sometimes. Scary. It has all the impact of letting the air out of a balloon. Code Veronica does this more than a few times and in a few different ways, including with its door transitions. These are meant to hide loading screens, but occasionally the game flavors standard door opening with heart beats and hesitation. Slowly the knob turns. The heart beats intensify. Surely, a horrible sight awaits you beyond the door and - oh, it’s nothing. Literally just another room. The game insists that you be scared because it does not know how to produce the feeling naturally. Please clap. Beyond frights, Code Veronica further demands you believe the absurd.
One of the appeals of Claire was that she was normal. Sure, she is Chris’ brother, but survival horror depends on the fallibility of the would-be survivor. In the opening cutscene of Code Veronica, Claire has infiltrated a heavily guarded Umbrella corporate tower with all the subtly of a nuke. She dodges guards, weaves around the Vulcan cannon of an attack helicopter, then blows up an explosive barrel taking out 10 or so guards James Bond style. Somehow, after all this, she is captured by some random guy. Oh well, maybe Claire’s newfound abilities will prove useful on the island. Nope. All of Claire’s super spy training vanishes when you take control of her. Now, one zombie, barely aware of her presence, becomes a huge problem. Considering all that happened 10 minutes prior, I don’t believe any of this. Claire will then spend the back half of the game, sidelined by her brother. After everything she did, Claire doesn’t even get to fight the final boss or make any meaningful impact after the man arrives. RE2 remake was such a vast improvement to the character that its hard not look back and laugh.
A similar problem applies to our mustache twirling villain, Wesker, who makes his superhuman debut in this game. Wesker, high on bioweapon super juice can now run at super speeds, punch with the force of a steam engine, and jump tall buildings in a single bound, yet somehow normies Chris and Claire are problems for him. Well, they were supposed to be normies. The power creep is real and completely invalidates any horror the game is trying to impress upon you. Umbrella insider and S.T.A.R.S betrayer normal guy Albert Wesker was far more compelling than whatever this is. He helped establish that the real villains of the Resident Evil games weren’t the monsters, but greedy people. None of that matters now. Honestly, Wesker’s part was best concluded in RE1. He did not need to become a reoccurring villain, and Code Veronica were his first steps in the wrong direction.
Where the game really shows its age is in its handling of Alfred Ashford. This first act, male villain adopts the identity of his twin sister in dress and speech while wearing a wig. Code Veronica handles this as well as you might expect. Alfred embodies the depraved transsexual trope, supporting the social stigma of male femininity because only villains do that. The game chooses transvestism to illustrate Alfred’s mental illness. Never mind the fact that he murdered countless people, it’s the dress that’s the problem. And of the countless things Claire could insult Alfred with, she calls him “You cross-dressing freak.” I get that Code Veronica came out in the early 2000s and mindset wasn’t exactly uncommon at the time, but a franchise as popular as Resident Evil should be ahead of the curve instead making low blows.
To cap it all off, the game ends where it begins. Chris declares that it is time to take down Umbrella, just like he did in RE1. Like every protagonist has done just before the credits roll. At least other games built on the story. In RE2, we were introduced to new characters and how they became involved in the grander scheme. In RE3, we learn the fate of Racoon City, which would lead into the events of RE4. Here, Claire and Chris make a wrong turn at Albuquerque. Nothing of significance happens. Nothing new is learned. No character growth occurs. It is filler in every sense of the word. If you must experience it, watch a Youtube long play. It makes for good schlock without having to suffer through the game yourself.
Snigglegros
1 year ago