A Plague Tale: Innocence review: A grisly, story-driven journey through Medieval France

France, 1348. Times are grim. The Black Plague has arrived—as have the Hundred Years’ War and the Inquisition. Within a decade, at least a third of the population will die. Some estimates place that number as high as two-thirds.

It feels closer to the latter in A Plague Tale: Innocence. There’s no end to the bodies—left to rot in the streets, abandoned to houses marked with a chalked “X,” piled high on foggy battlefields amid the trebuchets and wagons. And where there are bodies, worse is sure to follow.

Des rats.” Even with the silent “T,” the French is unmistakable: Rats. Rivers of them, black fur dotted with gleaming red eyes, waiting on the edges of the light. Hungry.

A pox upon ye

A Plague Tale is an anomaly. Before we get into the game itself, I think it’s worth discussing the context the game releases in. This is a singleplayer, story-driven game—one that clocks in around 10 hours long if you take it at a fairly meandering pace. Studios don’t develop games like A Plague Tale anymore. Publishers don’t fund games like A Plague Tale anymore.

A Plague Tale: Innocence IDG / Hayden Dingman

And yet here it is. A Plague Tale is ostensibly a stealth game, though even that is a pretty loose definition. You sneak under tables, behind bookshelves, through tents, and so on. Sometimes a sling factors into proceedings—a rock to the head to kill cleanly, or perhaps a rock to a lantern to kill in a more grisly manner, as rats swarm from the shadows to eat a man alive.

It’s bleak.

You play as Amicia de Rune, teenage daughter of a noble family. Amicia’s cozy life is upended by the Inquisition, which ransacks her ancestral home and kills most everyone she knows. She and her sickly brother Hugo are the only survivors, fleeing into the countryside.

Problem is, Hugo is the one the Inquisition wants. Amicia’s not sure why—he’s only six or seven years old—but he’s the object of their pursuit and it falls to her to quite literally lead Hugo by the hand through Medieval France in search of safe haven. And yes, sometimes that means “under tables, behind bookshelves, and through tents,” away from the watchful eyes of the Inquisition.