Control Resonant’s City Lacks the Memorable Charm of the Original’s Office Setting
By the time I wrapped up my time with Control Resonant, many of my initial frustrations had faded. While Remedy’s latest offering doesn’t quite match the tight, confident design of Control, its chaotic nature eventually leads to a second half that’s as bizarre and unforgettable as anything from the original. However, getting to that point requires a significant investment of time, much of which is spent trudging through the game’s less engaging segments. This initial stretch leaves a lasting impression, contributing to my feelings of disappointment and underwhelm throughout much of Resonant. The core issue lies in its setting: a distorted, glitchy version of Manhattan that pales in comparison to The Oldest House.
The Oldest House, the iconic setting of Control, serves as the headquarters for the Federal Bureau of Control—a secretive agency dedicated to investigating the unexplainable. It’s a prime example of the brutalist architecture that dominated American cityscapes in the 1960s and ’70s. Think of structures like Boston City Hall or the FBI headquarters in D.C., and you’ll get a sense of that stark, utilitarian style.
This unique environment is central to the weirdness that defines Control. Imagine every mundane office job you’ve ever had, but with the laws of physics thrown out the window. The Oldest House is a playground of the bizarre, and it’s a major reason why Control felt like an instant classic when it launched in 2019.
Interestingly, The Oldest House shares similarities with a viral concept that gained traction in theaters earlier this year. The Backrooms creepypasta, which emerged just a few months before Control’s release, explores a similar liminal space aesthetic. Both Control and Backrooms exemplify this concept, even if the term has become somewhat overused.
What makes the Backrooms so unsettling is its excruciating normalcy. The absence of anything truly strange makes even the slightest oddity feel profoundly bizarre, and this principle applies to Control as well. The Oldest House begins as a drab, suffocating office environment, filled with the monotony of dead-end jobs and uninspired careers. It’s all concrete, muted tones, and lifeless office furniture.
As you progress, the weirdness begins to seep into The Oldest House. You might walk into a vast hall and see office workers in ties suspended mid-air, their bodies slumped but floating 20 feet above the ground. Deep, vivid reds cast eerie shadows across distorted spaces. Walls twist in impossible ways, rooms fold in on themselves, and you’re faced with architecture that defies logic yet feels oddly familiar. The true strangeness of The Oldest House unfolds as you delve deeper into the game, with the contrast between the mundane and the bizarre reflecting both the game’s escalating difficulty and the way weirdness permeates its structure and surface. This synergy creates a cohesive and immersive experience.
Control Resonant picks up the narrative from Control, mirroring the seven-year gap that separates the two games in real life. It begins in the recognizable Oldest House, in the same rooms where Control starts, but quickly shifts outside—not to the astral plane where Control’s enigmatic Board resides. Instead, it takes place in a version of Manhattan that, at first glance, should feel familiar, much like the office spaces of The Oldest House. However, this version of New York feels more like a generic, faceless open-world city that video games have been presenting for over two decades.
The same signs appear too frequently, a handful of stores repeat every few blocks, and the buildings lack any distinct architectural style. It doesn’t even resemble New York City, instead giving off the bland, unsettling vibe of a film or TV show that couldn’t afford to shoot in Manhattan and opted for a stand-in city. Everything feels like it’s pulled from a generic asset pack, which, while not necessarily at odds with the game’s themes, makes traversing this world a tedious experience.
Countless times while playing Resonant, I found myself atop a cookie-cutter building, looking down at streets that blended together. I’d scan a city dotted with objectives, yet it felt empty and devoid of life. While this might be a deliberate choice—perhaps a commentary on the quiet streets during the pandemic or an attempt to expand on Control’s signature strangeness—it ultimately drains Resonant of the charm and impact that its predecessor had.
Regardless of your opinion on Remedy’s games, it’s hard to deny that they usually possess a distinct identity. Sure, their inspirations can be overt, and their homages might be a bit too obvious, but in a medium often dominated by titles that seem to copy whatever is currently popular, there’s nothing wrong with wearing your influences on your sleeve.
Control Resonant, however, lacks that immediate identity. It takes a considerable amount of time and effort to reach the game’s high points—effort that often feels like the busywork typical of open-world games, time that could be better spent enjoying the experience. While its peaks may rival those of Control, the journey to get there demands too much patience and persistence.
