#diary blogging

I’ve finished playing Resident Evil Requiem and, oh my gosh, it was a blast.

Of course, I started playing it again, but this time in standard classic mode, where you have to collect ink ribbons to save the game, just like in the original version. Scarcity of resources becomes its own kind of tension. Tormented Souls is like that, too: you use up your resources, you’re screwed. You either start over or keep multiple save files to backtrack and try again, but more strategically.

I’ve had to do that a few times in standard modern mode in RE9, playing as Grace Ashcroft. In modern mode, it autosaves most of the time. I’ve only died twice on my second playthrough, which forced me to start from a point where I had to figure everything out all over again. But that’s only with Grace. Leon is a different story.

Now, I’m going to be honest: from my experience, and it’s totally my opinion, Grace Ashcroft is the reason the game is so good.

Even though you can play in first or third person, I only used first person for the hotel section and the area with The Girl boss, just to get the full experience. Then I switched to third person for my viewers, who mostly voted for that perspective.

Grace’s storyline is better than Leon’s. The developers took that same heartfelt approach to their protagonists that we saw in Biohazard and Village with Ethan Winters. In the Winters’ Expansion, you play as Ethan’s teenage daughter, Rose. Biohazard was about a devoted husband searching for his wife; Village was about saving his daughter from Mother Miranda.

With Requiem, we get Grace — haunted by the trauma of watching her mother, Alyssa, die before her eyes, then taken by Victor Gideon to a healthcare facility that’s soon overrun by the infected.

While trying to escape, Grace finds Emily, a blind little girl locked in a high‑security room.

She develops a bond with Emily, carrying her through the chaos — and that’s why third person matters.

You can see how tenderly Grace holds her, how Emily clings to her for comfort after evading The Girl, when Grace is terrified and bleeding.

I even compiled a video of Grace’s cutscenes and moments carrying Emily — it’s heartbreak and hope intertwined.

You have to clear the halls so Emily can be moved safely. I found myself being meticulous, almost protective — as if I were the one getting attached. That’s how you know the developers nailed it. Grace stumbles when she runs, trips, and struggles to aim steadily. It feels authentic, heightening the tension. You don’t get stealth kills with her unless you craft Hemolytic Injectors to explode enemies. There’s a section where you escort Emily to a puzzle area, and I had to reload multiple times depending on which enemies turned into blisterheads, evolved zombies that are nearly impossible to kill. I learned to use injectors preemptively before they transformed, then retried until I could carry Emily safely through.

That’s the intensity of Grace’s gameplay. Leon’s sections are more action‑heavy — fun, but not the same kind of dread. Grace’s story plays like true survival horror: resource management, stealth, and emotional stakes. You get the better puzzles, the better tension, and the better heart to the story.

When you choose the good ending, releasing Elpis, you actually save everyone — including Emily. We all thought she was dead after transforming into a monster that Leon had to shoot. But he later says he didn’t hit any vital organs, and sure enough, Emily survives.

In the ending cutscene, Grace is back at the FBI office, talking to Leon on the phone. She says she’s teaching Emily how to read. On her desk are two photo frames: one of Grace and her mother, Alyssa, and one of Grace and Emily — Emily’s eyes cured. Without saying it outright, the story tells us that Grace adopted Emily. They’ve become mother and daughter.

There were hints all along. When Grace and Emily meet Harry, the helicopter pilot, he asks if Emily is her kid.

Grace doesn’t deny it or correct it.

Her actions showed: strapping Emily into the seat, protecting her, and comforting her. Grace risks everything to keep Emily safe.

Grace and Emily are the heart of Requiem.

It hits me at my core.

A lonely intelligence agent gains a daughter.

After losing her mother, she becomes one.

Completing the cycle: grief into motherhood.

Am I intimidated to move? Definitely. After the pandemic & lockdowns I definitely developed some Stockholm syndrome. Even taking a trip away made me alarmed that I wasn't in my bedroom after 2 days, so totally moving out of it FOREVER is going to be a big shakeup psychologically, potentially.

On the flip side, the signs are there that I should take the opportunity to move on. I haven't liked my house as much since they cut down the lovely big old tree in my backyard. They threw the branches in the garden that I had painstakingly cleared in the spring to make a space to sit in in the summer. Where do you go from that kind of self-centeredness?

The area is changing too. It's more expensive, and to be fair, I have my fair share of stressful memories associated with this location. The friends who used to live here who don't any more. The ghosts I see. Shadows of a past I'd rather forget - and yet, can't avoid the truth that I experienced, and at the time, was dear to me.

So far this year my tarot reading - the Hierophant - is coming true in many ways, just like it did last year. It's interesting to observe. Do I feel adrift? Mostly. But maybe that's a healthy recognition of a place that it suits to be. Maybe not having that self awareness would be worse.

Anyway, I'm mostly writing this to look back on for my state of mind once it's done and moved on with. I think I'll miss the lost potentials of this house. I was so ill here for so many years. So many missed opportunities - not that I blame myself now that I know. But frankly, there's also a lot unenviable about it. The lack of curtains. The awkward space. The fact five years on some of my clothes are still in a suitcase. That I work from home on a side table with a chair borrowed from the lounge Mon-Fri, and from my bed when I need to charge the computer. That this was the house I was in after my operation, when I broke my arm, for quarantine, for that Christmas all on my own. Where I got fired from the job that was my lifeline. Where I got bad news. Where J.Sw told me the truth that shook our world.