Resistive Evocation: Biogenesis

The film adaptation (in the finest traditions of Paul W.S. Anderson, telling a story completely unrelated to the game about Chris Redfield who, following the events of the seventh installment, travels to Silent Hill to kill James Sunderland, accompanied by a soundtrack of late 70s Estonian prog-rock written for a film adaptation of a Strugatsky brothers novel)

Resistive Evocation: Biogenesis ('Obitel Zeva: Rattun-Siti' in Russia) is absolutely not some 2D platformer from the bygone console days of that long-legged speedster in red shoes, as the title might have you believe at first glance! Even with voxels the size of the knuckles of that little red emerald enjoyer from Uganda, and even if we put aside the aggressively old-school banger of a soundtrack that deliberately clashes with everything happening on-screen, all it takes is one closer look to see the retro coat of paint start cracking at the seams, revealing a short, fast-paced third-person action game underneath, whose 'survival horror' aesthetic does nothing but crank the whole deranged shitshow up to eleven!

Teaser (home video shot by Ethan Winters on a phone, featuring a song performed by Jack Baker to the score of Esther K.'s father)   /   Warning: viewers with light sensitivity are advised to watch the special cut of the material

"This city crawls with filthy rats,

She wastes no words on empty chats.

And when the system fails and cracks...

She is the law, and she's divine.

Her name...

...is Eve Lyne."

Trailer (cinematic drama over Eveline to a gothic romance set to Velimir Khlebnikov's poetry)

You've gotta take sweet little Eve Lyne under your wing. After helping her dad Adrian send Jacob Stinger and his son Gabe climbing the ladder to heaven, she gets hit with some straight-up evil news. Turns out the trash-tier Capcorn Corporation - resident in totally cooked Rattoon City - did something completely out of pocket: they illegally snagged cells from Henry Townshend (yeah, the legendary guy who literally got knighted by the Queen of England 13 years before all this popped off) and used them to mass-produce a whole biohazard army of nasty Ethan Clones like they were growing cheap veggies in the backyard. By the very fact of their existence, these stapler-repaired homunculi tarnish the glorious name of Sir Henry. Having inherited the knight's outer shell but none of his noble spirit, these brain-dead corporate abominations are capable of only one thing: hurling syringes full of toxic goop at little girls with the fanatical commitment of people who have absolutely nothing left to lose - the very same goop once used in dangerous experiments on Mars, the ones that resulted in the galactic hero, John, was a Zombie.

Interesting facts about the game's musical theme (tracing its roots back to 1980s Soviet cinema from Moldova and Tajikistan)

Driven by a burning thirst for revenge against Capcorn over the death of Private Stalvern and the desecration of Sir Henry, the silent princess is forced to step onto the warpath. She must single-handedly prove that 'one girl can't fight an army' is, in fact, bullshit, and show these rotten corporate suits exactly what a little girl who can command fire with a snap of her fingers is capable of. Though, to be fair, at the party she lights up, you won't find a single fresh-brain connoisseur in attendance - for every last one of them has already clocked out and retired from the buffet of life. And don't even bother hoping that one or two of these silent gourmands might have somehow gotten lost in our heroine's magnificent mane of hair, where, for reasons known only to her, she likes to stash fruit from the Apple Capital, which, according to ancient tales, is located somewhere on the Eurasian continent.

Gameplay (a six-minute gameplay demonstration set to music from the 1987 cult film "Klątwa Doliny Węży", iconic across the former Soviet Union)

Even ignoring how our absolute queen Eve Lyne is out here completely ruining corporate plans in rat-infested Rattoon City, her solo crusade against Capcorn alone absolutely clears all the cope from her haterz. For nine whole years, these delusional losers were spreading pure brainrot, claiming our untouchable 53-inch goddess was ready to trade her chaotic, main-character lone-wolf energy for the ultimate NPC lifestyle - settling down into some snooze-fest domestic life, straight-up copying the insanely mid, vanilla vibes of Kirill Palych and his daughter Molly. Honestly, believing that kind of nonsense is a total L, pure blasphemy, and an unpardonable offense to her greatness period.

With zero time wasted on yap, our sweet little cinnamon roll is ready to demonstrate her true potential: on the improvised dance floor of the grim laboratory corridors, she puts on such a fire-ass performance with the Ethan Clones that she literally melts the flesh off her 'dance partners,' leaving behind nothing but charred, blood-soaked skeletons. Every spark of her divine flame practically scrapes the rust clean off the knightly crest of Sir Henry - the very rust that the sinister syndicate worked so damn hard to plaster all over it.

In the finale, our tireless heroine will finally make her way to Capcorn's main secret subject - the very one hidden under the codename R.O.S.E. While Eve Lyne, with her customary elegance, goes about weeding out the corporate vermin, Allan Cruise from 'Humans as G.O.D.S.' will already be sounding the alarm in a home at the end of the world. According to him, the catastrophe has reached such colossal proportions that before long, the entire Solar System will have to take a number and get in line for expansion. The data on the secret D.I.A.N.A. project obtained by Leonid Mrava will only add fuel to the fire, forcing the pragmatic Mary Glahn to admit the obvious: they simply do not have enough resources of their own to fight Capcorn.

But is that any reason to throw in the towel? Of course not! As proof, Eduard Kamagin will lay on the table the blueprints of a twenty-first century Hungarian psycho-physicist named Raimundo Szekeley, which were considered irretrievably lost, and will catch fire with the idea of organizing mass production of the Guardian Birds for lunar reconnaissance. Lusin will take things a step further, suggesting that they fight fire with fire and grow a fully-fledged living god Horus in a laboratory, complete with the head of a falco. Software, after all, is notoriously unreliable; better to go with the real thing. And as an added bonus, they could check whether the corporats might just burst with envy after losing their monopoly on bio-weapons that had actually been stolen by them from the Planet of Bottled Brains. Only Pavel Romero, the sole expert in ancient languages among those present, will listen to this parade of lunatic proposals, slowly shake his head, and utter, with an enigmatic air: "If you can handle it, you will see the Quintans."