Ground Zero, review of an excellent homage to old-school survival horror

I was eight years old when I first walked through the doors of the Raccoon City police station. Resident Evil 2 was running on a heavy CRT television, and as I desperately tried to survive amidst fixed camera angles and the infamous tank controls (failing the first time because I died before Kendo even appeared), something clicked. That palpable tension, the obsessive management of ammunition, and the terror of what lurked in a corridor's blind spot forged my lifelong passion for survival horror. Since then, the genre has evolved considerably, abandoning along the way, and for obvious reasons, it must be admitted, certain rigidities of maneuver in favor of greater fluidity.

Every time a new independent title sets out to pay homage to that golden age, the fear is always the same: stumbling into a nostalgia operation that is as faithful to the past as it is anachronistic and frustrating to play today. It is with this baggage of memories and expectations that I started Ground Zero, the recent effort by Malformation Games that promised a return to origins set in a South Korean Busan devastated by a meteorite impact.

I can state without reservation that the experiment was a complete success. Ground Zero shuffles its cards excellently, demonstrating that it has understood the best approach to honoring the classics: capturing their suffocating essence and oppressive atmosphere, while modernizing the gameplay framework with modern touches that make it extremely enjoyable today. A perfect balance that left me absolutely satisfied, confirming that one can look to the 90s without being trapped by them.

Get ready to count your bullets, because we're about to descend into the infected streets of South Korea to discover how the team so skillfully balanced past and present.

Botanical Nightmare in Busan

The curtain of Ground Zero rises on a desolate scenario. A devastating meteorite impact has literally annihilated South Korea, wiping out civilization as we know it. Only two months after the cataclysm, when the dust cloud and violent lightning storms finally begin to subside, returning vaguely more breathable air, elite Korean agent Seo-Yeon and her Canadian partner Evan are sent into the field to investigate.

Venturing through the misty, dilapidated remains of Busan and exploring a variety of environments ranging from picturesque coastal towns to ancient abandoned temples, all the way to the heart of the ruined urban center, the two soon realize that much more than a simple natural disaster lies behind the devastation. Strange growths emanate from the impact crater. A mysterious botanical threat has begun to spread like wildfire, infecting and atrociously bringing humans and animals back to life. Every street and every building has thus been transformed into a deadly death trap. Separated by circumstances, Seo-Yeon and Evan must dig deep to uncover the origins of this creeping corruption, in a desperate attempt to contain its spread within an investigation with unexpectedly profound psychological contours.

Overall, the game's narrative management left me very satisfied. It clearly and respectfully follows the classic canons of the genre, demonstrating meticulous attention to worldbuilding and a commendable willingness to contextualize certain gameplay elements diegetically. Take, for example, the save devices: the first time you encounter one of these tools – indispensable lifelines for those of us who grew up with ink and typewriters – a text file awaits, perfectly justifying its existence and function within the game's lore. The object retains its purely playful function but seamlessly integrates into Busan's ruined universe. It is precisely structural perfections of this type that always make me viscerally appreciate a production; they don't overturn the final judgment if absent, but when present, they offer commendable added value for enthusiasts.

Another aspect I appreciated is the branching narrative approach, which strongly echoes the unforgettable mechanics of the original Resident Evil 3: Nemesis. During exploration, Seo-Yeon often faces crucial choices that force her to take one path while excluding another. This branching not only represents a strong incentive for replayability, essential for uncovering all the secrets and multiple facets the title has to offer, but also places a real and oppressive weight on our decisions. It will be these continuous choices that tip the scales, shaping the plot and determining the ultimate fate of the protagonists: whether only Seo-Yeon, only Evan, or both are saved will depend exclusively on which paths we decide to take in this Korean hell.

Between Parries, Syringes, and Mathematical Calculations

Moving to the pulsating heart of the experience, the first, enormous victory of Ground Zero lies in its control system. I've said it before and I'll say it again firmly: there's a reason tank controls didn't have a very long life in the evolution of the medium. Although they are present as an option for the most die-hard purists, the ability to use a modern and fluid three-dimensional movement system represents one of the title's greatest strengths. Even the aiming system, while paying homage to the classics, boasts modern and brilliant insights. When targeting a threat, you can keep the target locked by pressing the Circle button, or quickly switch between enemies (or destructible environmental elements) by tapping L1. But the real gem is manual aiming: goodbye to the annoying "elastic effect" of the first Resident Evil games. By moving the stick to aim, especially upwards, the laser sight remains exactly where you place it, without forcing an exhausting and continuous pressure to maintain alignment. This total freedom allows you to manage every encounter down to the millimeter, even when fixed camera angles, by their very nature, might hinder the overall view.

The gunplay passes with flying colors. Each weapon boasts its own execution speed, specific weight, and meticulously crafted sound design that fully conveys its feel. Combined with free aim (and with an insidious timing system that allows you to land critical hits if you pull the trigger at the exact moment), even Seo-Yeon's initial weapon – none other than a magnum! – allows you to take down monstrosities without depleting your reserves. Speaking of tactical saving, the addition I appreciated most of all is the parry. Equipping the knife, the protagonist can defend herself and, with the right timing, unleash a lethal melee counterattack. The resulting kick can knock down fast opponents like dogs (or other deadly types of infected that I prefer not to spoil) and push away heavier threats. It's a perfect mechanic, which I admit I slightly abused, to conserve bullets for tighter situations where a close-quarters approach would be suicide. Deflecting blows is a matter of rhythm and, above all, of ear: by combining enemy movements with their sounds, it's possible to anticipate them and eliminate them solely with melee weapons. It requires practice and is not without risks, but once mastered, you find yourself dancing among the horrors with total ease, and for risk-takers, you can even try to face multiple enemies at once. After all, as good old Leon Kennedy teaches in Resident Evil 4, if someone is unlucky enough to be in the path of my roundhouse kick, it's certainly not my fault.

Expanding the discussion from bullet management to general resource management, Ground Zero proves demanding. Our inventory is limited to just about ten slots, and excess items must be stored in safes located at save points (strictly shared among them), or you have to make the painful choice to permanently discard an item. Curiously, the safes themselves act as puzzles: they require solving small mathematical puzzles where you have to reach a precise value by adding, subtracting, multiplying, or dividing the given numbers to unlock their massive capacity. More impatient players can choose to bypass the brain teaser by blowing them up with a special consumable explosive, but this drastic method will irrevocably destroy the useful bonus reward stored inside.

Equally stimulating is medical management. Serums of various colors (green, red, and blue) are scattered across the map and, to be used, must be loaded into a special syringe capable of holding up to three doses, which can also be mixed. The concept echoes the proverbial healing herbs but goes much further: by combining three doses of the exact same type, the relative benefit becomes permanent, increasing Seo-Yeon's maximum health, physical defense, or infection resistance. This creates a wonderful game of chance and interlocking, which encourages enduring injuries and conserving single doses in the hope of accumulating three identical ones, thus structurally strengthening oneself in addition to healing. If you add to this the ability to accumulate "Genome Points" through clean kills to unlock further equipment upgrades, managing your alter ego becomes satisfying and profound.

All these elements merge into a branched and layered exploration loop, made up of locked doors, access codes, and a physiological and calculated backtracking. There is a very pleasant sense of familiarity in moving through the infected ruins, a familiarity that is constantly elevated and strengthened by the modernity of the insights introduced by the development team.

The Aesthetics of Old-School Horror

From a purely technical and artistic standpoint, Ground Zero establishes a remarkable visual balance. In the current independent landscape, it's all too easy to come across titles that, to pay homage to the old 32-bit era, compromise by resorting to the overuse of deliberately low-poly models and intentionally pixelated textures. The Malformation Games team, however, chose a different and decidedly more refined path. Although the visual system follows the classic 2.5D structure – splendid pre-rendered backgrounds that serve as a stage for three-dimensional models explorable through fixed cameras – the visual impact is incredibly sharp. Supported by the power of Unreal Engine 5, the graphics showcase characters, creatures, and scenarios that are crisp in their definition, managing to evoke the aesthetic magic of yesteryear without sacrificing impeccable modern visual clarity. The misty alleys, desolate coasts, and ruined temples of Busan are a mosaic of details.

Supporting this excellent artistic direction is impeccable technical stability. Throughout my descent into this nightmare, I did not encounter the slightest uncertainty or problem related to the framerate. The game doesn't miss a beat, ensuring absolute fluidity that proves essential not only to maintain immersion but also, and above all, to allow the player to execute the millimeter-precise parries we discussed earlier without being betrayed by annoying image stutters.

But a true survival horror doesn't live by polygons alone, and the sound department proves to be a fundamental pillar of the entire architecture of tension. The sound design is not merely background but becomes a true survival tool. The title skillfully plays with frequencies, alternating suffocating silences with distorted environmental noises and distant growls, useful for mentally mapping dangers even before the camera reveals them. Finally, on the voice acting front, the work holds its own honorably: it balances the inevitable slightly campy and "B-movie" tone typical of 90s productions with the commendable choice of having Seo-Yeon deliver some lines in her native language. A touch of Korean authenticity that further roots the experience in its fascinating and deadly geographical setting.