Not A Hero occupies a reality where Resident Evil 7 disposed of the things people liked about Resident Evil 7. Gone are the games of cat and mouse, the alien and uncomfortable texture of rural decay, and fits of anxiety over a decision as simple as walking outside. In its place is a compressed action-shooter descended from Resident Evil 5. The price of “free”—Not A Hero is available to anyone who owns the base game—is a strong compromise for a conscious regression. It also, however, needs to be worth the price of your time.
(The identity of Not A Hero’s protagonist spoils a cameo found in Resident Evil 7’s finale)
Resident Evil 7’s third act, which shuffled Ethan Winters across a dilapidated tanker and through claustrophobic mines, was out of sync with its established objectives. Ethan wasn’t especially suited to a run-and-gun model and Resident Evil 7 hadn’t seemed that interested in traditional action. That kind of behavior is better attuned to frequent Resident Evil protagonist Chris Redfield. Or, more specifically, the roid-raging Chris Redfield that occupied Resident Evil 5 and famously punched the shit out of a large bolder to murder its chief antagonist.
It is good that Not A Hero resumes control of Chris Redfield. Equally appropriate is the return of Chris’ volatile melee skills, in which staggered enemies are vulnerable to one-hit knock outs from Chris’ fists. This fundamentally changes Resident Evil 7’s combat dynamic, creating a risk and reward between lurching in for a punch and staying at a safe range and expunging ammunition. It’s more fun, albeit kind of clumsy in first-person, to rush in and smack every available monster.
Chris also needs to track down Resident Evil 7’s chief dangling thread; the whereabouts of the Baker family’s sadistic son, Lucas. Not A Hero’s solution is to shuffle Chris down a dangerous and trap-ridden series of mines, much of which resemble the shape and texture of Resident Evil 7’s mines. Evidence of failed experiments and coordinated decay (not to mention the tortured remnants of Chris’ fellow Umbrella squad mates) occupy the same space. Not A Hero is more concerned with aggressive displays of violence than malignant unease.
Centered around a makeshift hub, Chris must explore three distinct areas in pursuit of Lucas. Surviving these segments grants specific upgrades, like a night vision component and different air filters for Chris’ gas mask. These allow progression to new areas. Stationary turrets, trip wires, ground-spikes, and the looming threat of Molded compose the bulk of Not A Hero’s challenges. Of course, there’s also a tiny bit of room for missing keys, cranks, and gears.
A fuming, white Molded is Not A Hero’s idea of a new enemy. Early on, these giant things are unable to be killed, requiring a grenade toss in order to knock them down and run past them. Eventually, you’re given an alternate set of ammunition for the pistol that can render their regeneration ability inactive. These guys generally aren’t too hard, and they fit in neatly alongside the exploding fat guys, the feisty crawling guys, and the jumpy spider guys. It’s a wonderful family of miscreants, although not quite as expressive and memorable as the Bakers.
Not A Hero’s primary weakness is that it forgets to be interesting. The idea, the absurdity of Chris working for Umbrella is a compelling hook that goes nowhere. Lucas’ character, a sadist before the rest of the Baker family was infected, retains his barbarous pranks but fails to escalate his complexion. I don’t know that rushing to prevent Lucas from emailing some files is a valid point of motivation, but Not A Hero (correctly) assumes you just want to destroy Lucas for any potential reason. It works well enough inside of the two hour run-time.
The climactic boss fight is inventive, demanding the player juggle three different responsibilities simultaneously. Other than that, I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing in Not A Hero. Chris is popular, the latter Resident Evil trilogy still has its fans, and Capcom had plenty of existing Resident Evil 7’s assets to leverage. Building content—again, free content—is a safe move that exists only to serve people actively seeking it out. This makes it difficult to look at Not A Hero’s contributions to Resident Evil 7’s framework and feel mistreated. It’s a serviceable retreat to safe place and doesn’t aspire to go anywhere else. It’s fine.
Not A Hero absorbs Resident Evil 7’s discordant third act and recasts it in the mold of a conventional action shooter. While a sharp focus (and a welcomed protagonist swap) aid Not A Hero’s general coherence, it’s a vision of a life the seventh Resident Evil chose to leave behind. A safe move isn’t often the strongest.
