If Infliction was a colour, it would be beige. If it was a biscuit, it’d be the tasteless disc of a Rich Tea. If it was a band, it’d play nothing but Coldplay tracks. Sure, they all have their fans and they all technically deliver on what’s promised on the tin, but let’s face it: you could probably live without them, too.
The big but here? For every sin it commits, Infliction has a saving grace. For every recycled cliche, it offers something fresh. For every cringey line of dialogue, there’s another delivered with perfect timing and pathos. When you tire of picking through the contents of the same old rooms in the same old house, the game will unexpectedly toss you someplace new. And when you get bored with that place – oh, look! – we’re back in the marital home again.
Consequently, I’m not sure what to think about this indie horror just yet. On one hand, that can’t be a good sign; at the time of writing I’ve completed it three times (once on PC, and twice on PlayStation 4) and if that isn’t long enough to form an opinion, then I don’t know what is. But on the flip side, I didn’t mind playing it the second or even third time, either.
