Resident Evil: Requiem’s Slop Buckets Look Strangely Appetizing

The idiom “buckets of blood” has long served as a pervasive shorthand for the hyperbolic carnage synonymous with slasher cinema and survival horror. Typically, these vessels are a behind-the-scenes necessity, tucked away in the rafters to facilitate a final girl’s drenching or to ensure a headshot delivers a sufficiently visceral payoff. However, Resident Evil Requiem—the latest entry in Capcom’s venerable biological horror franchise—interprets this trope with startling literalism.

As you navigate the grim corridors of the Rhodes Hill Care Center in the role of Grace, you will frequently stumble upon open pails brimming with crimson viscera and enigmatic biological debris. Upon reaching the East Wing’s “Blood Lab,” the site of the antagonist Victor Gideon’s most repulsive depravities, you encounter the Blood Collector. This apparatus allows Grace to transmute harvested “infected juice” into essential resources, ranging from standard handgun munitions to specialized injectors designed to halt post-mortem mutations. Survival, it seems, requires a steady supply of this freshly harvested gore.

While these chum-filled containers serve a clear mechanical purpose, their presence is unintentionally comedic for several reasons. Foremost is the setting itself: a medical facility. Granted, Rhodes Hill is the sort of Resident Evil hospital that features a fully-stocked lounge and a roulette wheel, but it remains a healthcare center in name. The transition from a functioning clinic to a necropolis occurred shortly after Leon’s arrival, a remarkably brief window of time before Grace begins her journey. One has to wonder: was it standard operating procedure to leave wastebasket-sized vats of human remains sitting in the open? The lack of lids suggests a flagrant disregard for OSHA standards, to say nothing of the pathogenic hazards or the devastating impact such a “vibe” would have on staff morale. I am no physician, but the sanitary protocols here seem questionable at best.

Secondly, while Resident Evil Requiem makes no claims to culinary excellence, these buckets possess an inexplicably appetizing aesthetic from certain perspectives. If you have ever gazed into a steaming pot of tomato-rich seafood stew—be it a classic Italian cioppino, a fragrant Vietnamese bún riêu, or a traditional French bouillabaisse—you will recognize the visual parallel. To the squeamish, the mixture of textures and unidentified shapes is likely repellent. Yet, for those who appreciate a hearty broth, the imagery evokes thoughts of mussels, tender squid, and aromatic herbs. Players can craft makeshift shivs and incendiary devices on the fly, but I found myself wishing for a crusty baguette to accompany these vats of infected sustenance. If the game intends to entice me with such savory-looking gore, I am more than ready to accept the invitation.

Source: Polygon