Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice Review (Xbox Series X|S, PlayStation 5 & PC)

Between schizophrenia and claustrophobia, perilous acts of redemption and justice, the underbelly of woe and despair, fear and anger bleed through the hinges of a soulless purgatory—a dark and dangerous realm where those who traipse beyond the threshold never return, and those who dare to challenge the Gods meet death in an eternally binding climax. The waters run deep beyond the mystifying fog, and the echoes of past voyagers speak stern words to illuminate the consequences of your actions. “Turn back — you aren’t prepared to see what looms beyond the horizon.” It’s cold, lonely, and without the warmth of a civilized colony. There are no campfires to keep you safe, and there are no helping hands to aid your descent deeper and deeper into nocturnal madness. Here, it’s just you, a growing rot that shrouds your skin, and a noble desire to resurrect your dearly departed at the expense of your shrunken soul.

Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice isn’t one to fill your head with gleeful memories and wisdom; it’s one to make your skin shudder and your mind wander as it ushers you deep into the vast darkness and into the desolate depths of a Norse nightmare untold. From the second you take the paddle and begin wading through the waters, you aren’t given a hero’s welcome, but a swath of voices running rampant in your head—a barrage of whispers telling you that you need to turn back, and that, should you choose to tread beyond the borders of civilization, you will meet a horrifying fate. You aren’t given a lecture on how to survive the fiery quarters of Hel, but instead, a goal to venture to the inner circle and restore the forsaken soul of your dear Dillion. And that, in short, is where you begin your journey: at the foot of Hel, with the head of your beloved stowed on your belt, and with a hundred voices plaguing your thoughts, telling you that you don’t have what it takes to confront a goddess.

A cinematic experience at its core, Hellblade divides its time between thought-provoking internal dialogue and world-altering trickery, perplexing logical puzzles and melee combat. Although with the comfort of the occasional friendly voice of a lost mentor, the journey predominantly consists of conflicting monologues and harrowing premonitions, with each passing moment reminding you that, should you fail to keep your head above water, a powerful rot will eventually consume you. From the moment you encounter death, you find yourself with an unshakable sense that something is amiss. A stumble—a mortal wound to the heart—leads to another layer of rot, and the further you travel, the worse the condition becomes. That, combined with a fleeting orchestra of conjoined personalities, makes Hellblade an absolute masterpiece in its own right.

What entails over a short campaign through the ashen world of a Norse underworld is a claustrophobic affair that feels awfully lonely and uncomfortable. You have the power to fight, but at no point are you ever given the benefit of the doubt; the world is a problem, and you, as courageous as you often come across as, have no real choice but to push onward and into the nexus between life and death, where demonic foes cloak the land and psychological trauma of engulfs your soul. A million messages add fuel to your anxiety and grief, and the only silver lining that you have to keep you company are your brief triumphs, no matter how few and far between they may seem to be.

Hellblade unapologetically delivers a masterclass in its unique audiovisual style, with its airtight dialogue and fleeting sound effects providing a foundation for a genuinely compelling and borderline intrusive saga of perilous tales and wildcard sequences. It is, for lack of a better word, uncomfortable, but in the best possible sense of it. Minced with grueling combat sequences and intense cinematic drama, it leans into a realm of psychological horror and anxious storytelling, brash adventure and woe. And to be honest, not many other independent thrillers can capture a lot of these facets. Yet, for Senua’s Sacrifice, it almost feels like second nature.

To accommodate a rather depressing predicament, Hellblade comes clean with a strong cast of characters and, in turn, some of the most convincing dialogue in recent years. In an effort to illuminate its perfectionist tendencies, the game also makes it so that no stone is left unturned. Alongside a compelling narrative and a dark yet intriguing tone, it also features a plethora of fascinating backstories, secrets, and hidden locations that keep you wanting to endure just a little bit more of its traumatizing nature.

While the campaign isn’t with the gift of longevity, it is one that brings a tremendous amount to the table. From chin-scratching puzzles to daringly challenging combat encounters, stellar audiovisual cues to a good old-fashioned perma-death system that reminds you that, the more you fall, the stronger the rot will be. The point is, Hellblade is masterful in its ability to convey traumatizing emotions, and although it does feel like more of a cinematic experience than a full-fledged third-person action-adventure game, it does bear all of the hallmark elements and generational appeal of a pioneering endeavor. It isn’t for everyone, but it is an experience that we can’t help but strongly encourage causal gamers to dunk their heads into.

Verdict

Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice provides a masterclass in cinematic storytelling—a powerful voyage that can and will make you squirm and uncontrollably anxious as you gradually traipse through the darkness and into the underbelly of its beautifully crafted Norse-centric ark of horrors and deadly premonitions.

If you’re unfamiliar with the series, then take it from me. If it’s a mind-altering cinematic experience that you want—a short yet ridiculously engaging slog through the seemingly endless corridors of Norse mythology, that is—then you should definitely take the plunge into Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice. Oh, and don’t forget to wear headphones; Hel is a dish best served with a side of anxiety, naturally.