Sequel Control Resonant tries to be more than the sum of some extremely boring parts

The follow-up to 2019’s Control hides a more interesting game inside rote open-world exploration of a ruined New York.

Sequel Control Resonant tries to be more than the sum of some extremely boring parts

Can you build an interesting game out of boring parts? It’s the question hanging, like a skyline full of suspended human bodies, over Control Resonant, the latest game from endlessly frustrating Finnish game developer Remedy Entertainment. Like pretty much all of Remedy’s games—the TV-aping Quantum Break, the ludicrously ambitious Alan Wake titles, and most especially 2019’s Control, which it serves as a direct sequel to—Resonant is a collection of some of coolest ideas ever filtered into a video game, painfully stapled to some of the dullest execution. Interdimensional, non-corporeal monsters; the lurking threat of a secret world; visuals stolen straight from the storyboards for Christopher Nolan’s Inception—all of these things exist here. It’s just that they’ve been smashed together with basic game design ideas so hoary and ancient that it’s hard to believe they’re the products of the same minds. When you’re deep in the pocket of the things it cares about, sci-fi horror stories tinged with just a dollop of genuine human feeling, it’s one of the best games of 2026. The issue is that it’s only those things about 30 percent of the time.

It’s enough to make you wonder if there’s some arbitrary finite amount of creativity allotted to any single given video game, and Resonant has opted to spend all of its ration on worldbuilding, side stories, and big, flashy setpieces. It’s an approach that has paid off for Remedy before, creating standout moments like Alan Wake 2’s incredibly memorable playable music video sequence. It’s also a recipe for making sure that the things your players are interacting with for the majority of their time are the dregs—in this case, a collection of some of the most broken and boring trends of open-world video game design of the last two decades. To pick one that genuinely shocked me when I was forced to do it during the game’s opening hour of tutorializing: What kind of conversation goes into making people sync up with map towers to get their map for an area, a mechanic that was mildly novel when Assassin’s Creed did it in 2007, in 2026? Have we not all touched enough navigational pylons to last a lifetime at this point?

And that’s before we get into the game’s combat, which throws any number of complicated status effects, modifiers, conditions, and other considerations at the player to try to disguise how incredibly dull it is at its core. Much like Marvel’s Wolverine—another recent game that sought to obscure this kind of thing through multiple layers of flash—Resonant is ultimately a game about tapping on enemies multiple times while trying to dodge their briefly telegraphed attacks. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with that formula in theory—a lot of very satisfying games have built thrilling combat systems out of parts so basic. But the combination of enemy health bars being long enough to turn every fight into a chore, and your own moveset feeling generally rote, turns the whole thing into a slog. (Not helped by the density of fights in the game’s open-world vision of a ruined New York; expect a battle every half-block.) 

I have an unofficial rubric I use to measure this stuff: Every time I take a serious hit in an action game, not because the attack was difficult to deal with, but because I was too bored by the fight to keep my eyes on the screen, it loses a point; Control Resonant is running at about a negative 15 for me at this point. And don’t even get me started on the game’s damage-sponge bosses, which sometimes have as many as three moves to their name; I really thought Wolverine had a lock on “Most Tedious Boss Battles Of 2026,” but Remedy has issued a pretty definitive “Hold my beer.”

Oh, hey, you want a shitty crafting system? Control Resonant’s got one of those, too, as you schlorp up dozens of items with meaningless names (“Aberrant Shards,” “Edible Globs,” “Distorted Echoes,” etc.) from your hordes of foes in order to trade them in for an extra five percent stance damage on flying enemies. Resonant tries to make its character building meaningful by forcing you to choose, multiple times, between major powers as you beat new bosses, but the differences seem so minimal, and the sheer number of fights you’re going to be stuck using these powers in so massive, that it all sludges together. The fact that New York’s monster population respawns, with slightly higher numbers, every time you kill a boss only heightens the sensation of being trapped on a sort of cosmic treadmill, one whose rubber has been harvested from older, often better, games. 

The only mild bright spot on the gameplay front is in movement, which can feel genuinely fun: Protagonist Dylan Faden starts with a series of double-jumps and air dashes that make clearing huge parts of ruined Manhattan a breeze, and the addition of gravity-manipulating moves only amplifies that rooftop-leaping freedom. If there’s a gameplay reason for Control Resonant to exist in the state that it does, it’s in that movement. But even there, it’s more a matter of something being well-executed, rather than unique.

And yet! The game still grabs at me from time to time. Dylan himself—who was kind of, sort of, the villain of the first game—is a non-entity, regardless of whether players play him as a remorseful sadsack, or as a righteously pissed-off former prisoner of the Federal Bureau Of Control. And the actual characters he encounters directly tend to be flat, stock types. (Including your voice-on-a-radio handler, Zoe, whose gradual warming-up to Dylan is so by-the-numbers that I have to assume there’s some handy TV Tropes descriptor that could sum it up in a handful of words.) But then, every now and again, you’ll hit an idea someone at Remedy was clearly excited about, whether it’s in a document you pick up in one of the game’s cookie-cutter urban environments, or a side mission you stumble into where the laws of reality no longer function. 

It’s here that the original potential of Control—the potent and highly, uh, liftable idea of a government bureaucracy trying to impose normality on supernatural artifacts—shines brightest. It’s cool to read a horror story about a brain-hopping parasite, just as it’s cool to see a New York city street suddenly take a perpendicular upward turn straight into the sky, or see how the FBC has lost its collective minds in the seven years since the first game. Remedy has always made a meal out of the idea of normalcy being overtaken by the strange, the mysterious, and the deadly, and that idea is still here, as haunted speaker systems corrupt minds while fluffy blue mold overtakes whole blocks of New York. This stuff can even bleed back into the otherwise dishwater-dull combat, giving it an otherwise missing spark. Some of the game’s best set pieces involve you fighting in big cubes with enemies crawling over every wall; reorienting your gravity to each surface as you bounce from wall to ceiling to floor until you can’t remember which is which is the closest the game ever gets to a true power fantasy.

Players of Control Resonant are, then, positioned as archeologists of cool, hunting in a desert of the utterly mundane. If you go looking for something interesting here, you’ll probably find it. You’ll just have to tap-a-tap-a-tap-a about five dozen obnoxiously durable monsters to death every time you want to try to get to that next good part.

 
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