Castlevania: Belmont's Curse channels the spirit of classic Metroidvanias with reverence and ambition, yet struggles to reconcile its competing design philosophies into a cohesive whole. Evil Empire, the studio behind Dead Cells, has crafted a game brimming with clever ideas and moments of genuine brilliance, but execution falters often enough to frustrate rather than delight.
The game stars Rose Belmont, daughter of Trevor Belmont and Sypha Belnades from Castlevania III, as she battles Dracula's forces across a ruined Paris in 1499 and within the depths of Castle Dracula itself. A lengthy tutorial introduces her central mechanic: tarot cards capable of sealing away the souls of those enslaved by the vampire king. From there, the familiar Metroidvania loop unfolds—exploring interconnected spaces, unlocking new abilities that grant access to previously unreachable areas, and piecing together a story woven across more than five centuries of the series' lore.
Inspired Design, Troubled Execution
Several design elements genuinely shine. The way mirrors interconnect throughout the castle is sublime, creating elegant shortcuts and secrets that reward exploration. A music-based puzzle deep within Notre-Dame cathedral stands out as genuinely wonderful. The platforming gauntlet through the Clock Tower works brilliantly when all its mechanical pieces align. These moments recall the magic of classic Metroidvanias, evoking the same sense of discovery that defined earlier entries in the series.
Yet these inspired sequences exist alongside frustrating design choices that undermine the whole experience. Evil Empire clearly understands the modern Metroidvania landscape—games like Hollow Knight, Ori, and Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown have pushed the genre forward with fluid movement and responsive controls. Belmont's Curse, however, feels caught between eras. Rose's movement and attacks are locked to the eight cardinal directions of a D-pad, a deliberate nod to classic Castlevania games, but everything else in the world operates on a more fluid plane.
This fundamental mismatch creates constant friction. Rose's abilities and attacks only function in specific directions—directly up, down, or horizontally—while enemies move organically and throw weapons in flowing arcs. The same problem plagues traversal. Using Rose's whip on enemies or environmental anchors requires standing in precise, awkward positions. Miss the exact spot, and the whip fails to connect. What should be smartly designed platforming segments devolve into frustrating battles against the game's engine rather than engaging with the puzzle itself.
The Weight of Legacy
The control scheme frequently sabotages otherwise solid level design. Rose gets trapped between enemies and their shields, stacking damage that feels unavoidable rather than earned. The whip fails to attach where it should, sending players back to checkpoints repeatedly. Performance issues compound the problem—even on PS5 Pro, framerate dips occur frequently enough to cause deaths that feel undeserved. One could charitably interpret these mechanical struggles as a thematic reflection of Rose's curse, a manifestation of her wrestling with legacy that holds back her true power. In practice, however, the awkward controls simply feel irritating.
Checkpointing design adds another layer of frustration. While sadistic difficulty has its place in Metroidvanias, Belmont's Curse sometimes crosses from playfully devious into mean-spirited. Certain checkpoints are positioned with punishing intent, forcing lengthy backtracking through already-cleared areas. The method for accessing fast travel—something the review deliberately avoids spoiling—is needlessly convoluted and frustrating. In one particularly dizzying locale, the map is removed from the player's access entirely. Rather than creating clever navigation challenges, this design choice devolves into exasperating busywork.
Boss Encounters and Uneven Difficulty
Boss fights exemplify the game's design inconsistency. Some encounters function as genuinely smart mechanical gauntlets that test reflexes and stamina in satisfying ways. Others are refreshingly simple and even humorous. Too many, however, feel over-designed—cramming multiple ideas together without proper balance. During particularly tough fights, a single mistake becomes fatal. A slippery whip interaction or an awkward platforming moment ends the encounter, regardless of stat-boosting trinkets equipped or which of the seven available weapon types the player has selected. Death, one particularly notorious boss, exemplifies this problem. Being killed by a single misplaced footstep on a ledge doesn't feel like a Belmont-worthy challenge; it feels cheap.
Pacing and Action-First Design
Despite these issues, Evil Empire demonstrates strong pacing instincts. Just when frustration threatens to boil over from endless spike traps and magical wall-phasing sections, the game pivots to action-focused encounters. Combat gauntlets introduce enemy combinations the player hasn't yet faced, often while health supplies run dangerously low. These moments force creative problem-solving, rewarding players who've paid attention to the spells and abilities unlocked throughout the journey.
Some spells refill health if used strategically. Others grant temporary shields or bind enemies in place, creating reliable anchors for the whip to latch onto. These sequences showcase Dead Cells' DNA unmistakably—action-first design philosophy combined with environmental hazards that demand acrobatic precision. When everything clicks, Belmont's Curse becomes exceptional. The cortisol of frustration gives way to epinephrine-fueled exhilaration. Weapons flash, Night Creatures bleed, and the player's blood genuinely rises to meet the challenge.
A Game at War With Itself
Ultimately, Castlevania: Belmont's Curse is fundamentally divided. Beyond the literal split between Parisian sequences and the castle proper, there exists a spiritual rift between its desire to function as an action-platformer and its aspirations toward Metroidvania grandeur. Like Rose herself, the game is earnest, intelligent, and capable of genuine brilliance. Yet it also mirrors its protagonist's struggles—awkward, unable to fully reconcile its own identity in the shadow of an overbearing legacy.
Evil Empire has created something that isn't bad, but rather ambitious beyond its current grasp. The studio bit off more than it could comfortably chew, attempting to honor decades of Castlevania tradition while pushing the series forward into modern Metroidvania territory. The result is a game that shines brightest in its action sequences and most inspired environmental puzzles, but stumbles repeatedly when its mechanical limitations collide with its design ambitions. Belmont's Curse stands as proof that reverence for legacy and innovative design don't always coexist peacefully.
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