Devil May Cry Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 10/5/2025)

[Image from glitchwave.com]

Devil May Cry

Developer: Capcom

Publisher: Capcom

Genre(s): Hack and Slash

Platforms: PS2

Release Date: August 23, 2001

With Resident Evil running the course of a succinct trilogy on the first PlayStation, Capcom decided to (briefly) retire their survival horror pioneer in favor of draining their creative juices elsewhere. If I had to look into my crystal ball of insight and attempt to unravel the machinations of Capcom after Resident Evil was neatly wrapped into a three-piece gift box, I’d guess that they were eager to scratch that action itch. I suppose the survival horror genre has its inherent constrictions. Namely, the genre must abide by slower-paced gameplay, whose steadiness is intended to accentuate the dangerous, dread-inducing atmosphere that is only achievable when momentum is at a crawl. Plus, the scant inventory of supplies and ammunition that exists within the survival connotations at play encourages players to approach situations cautiously and conservatively. A methodical gameplay directive is admirable and engaging if it’s driving an appropriate genre vehicle for such, like the one that Resident Evil had laid out and evolved with each subsequent entry. However, I can understand the desire to unshackle oneself from a formula marked by specific restraints, especially since it has been sufficiently realized in the span of three entries. With the inception of Devil May Cry one console generation later, the resulting product of Capcom’s creative ennui regarding Resident Evil, all buttons on the developer’s formal wear had been unpopped, and lampshades were inappropriately misused as hats, in a manner of speaking. This hack and slash series pissed in the face of Resident Evil’s conscientiousness with high-octane bombast, a rollercoaster of swinging swords, and a bountiful blaze of bullets blistering the bodies of enemies without reloading the guns as a necessary consideration. As history tells it, the greater gaming landscape at the time was also evidently ready to send Resident Evil offshore on a raft and set fire to its remains, for Devil May Cry was received with such a passionate embrace by gamers that it ignited a wave of decade-defining influence in gaming of equal measure to what Resident Evil had sparked in the late 1990s. Oddly enough, even though Devil May Cry’s existence was inspired by exhausting Resident Evil, the first Devil May Cry shares several stark similarities to Capcom’s previous series priority. You’ll just have to tag along and read my commendatory and critical comparisons between the two to see the uncanny parallels for yourself, plus how they elicit awe and irritation from me in equal measure.

First off, the facet of Resident Evil’s identity that is often undervalued by the general gaming public is its camp value. After the first Resident Evil was mercilessly mocked for dialing the horror campiness up to a level that surpassed that of a Roger Corman production, its sequels had to suppress their tongue-in-cheek goofiness to a suitable subtlety. Devil May Cry sees how Resident Evil toned down its cheese and raises it to the roof, where the fromage is frothing from every pore. Unlike Resident Evil, which must keep the camp factor under control to maintain the thrill of fright that a horror game should elicit, the action-intensive Devil May Cry can revel in kitsch to its heart's content. You can’t laugh at all of the Jill sandwiches when the game unleashes them is laughing at them alongside you. Look no further than the opening cutscene of Devil May Cry for proof that it's brandishing a full feeling of confidence as the butt of the joke. A sexy, scantily-clad blonde lady crashes her bitchin’ motorbike into a business of the game's namesake to seemingly assassinate its manager. When the towheaded proprietor effectively bats away all of her attempts to smite him, she changes her attitude and reveals that she requires his assistance. Why then did she try to execute him? Who am I, a mild-mannered man, to understand the contradictory complexities of the female mind? Anyways, while the tone dropping on a dime could indicate some of the game’s campy tendencies, it’s really the action choreography between the two characters that reeks of ridiculousness. After roundhouse kicking him to the other side of the room, the woman picks up and heaves her motorized mode of transportation, which the man halts mid-flight to then blow it to pieces by shooting it with twin dueling pistols. He also removes the sword that was lodged in his chest with the force of a javelin throw by plucking it with the ease and lack of discomfort of removing a tie from one’s neck. The man removing a sword from the wall that is intended to censor the breasts of a woman photographed on a poster to then show them anyway once he’s out of the center frame is an expectation-subverting visual gag that garnered a chuckle from me and bends the taste threshold equally as any of the action sequences. I think the camp value that Devil May Cry supplies speaks for itself here, don’t you?

If you’ve noticed that I’ve been obscuring the names of the characters, it’s because I felt like the grander scope of the series’ protagonist was large enough to be dedicated to a separate paragraph. Back in the former half of the 2000s, Dante became somewhat of a video game celebrity. More so than the astounding success of Devil May Cry, Dante’s widespread prominence can be attributed to his embodiment of all of the things associated with the decade’s alternative youth culture. Now that I think of it, the first Devil May Cry was released early enough at the turn of the century that Dante could’ve possibly served as the trendsetter for the streak of edgy androgyny that defined the fashion and attitude of the 2000s. It’s too bad that the “Devil May Cry” business he runs isn’t a clothing store, or else my connections to Dante and Hot Topic would’ve been rock solid. Anime was also becoming a growing phenomenon in the West, so I’m sure that his fans adored the fact that he’s a demon-human half-breed with magical powers and otherworldly durability. Conceptually, comparisons can obviously be drawn between Dante and Alucard from the Castlevania franchise. However, the video game character who Dante is alarmingly alike is Duke Nukem. Similar to the chiseled, one-man alien annihilating womanizer who helped trailblaze the FPS genre in its heyday, Dante approaches terrifying dilemmas with an overflowing streak of confidence that makes him seem immune to natural human hindrances like fear and mortality. When a wampus arachnid, whose bodily constitution consists of mostly molten lava, crashes through the ceiling and threatens to devour him whole, Dante pets and patronizes it like it's a stray cat instead of turning a bedsheet white and shitting his pants as any other man would do in this situation. The game continues to test Dante’s capacity for stab wounds when he’s impaled again on another sword, of which he ascends through the blade as it's still lodged in his torso in an unnatural, unscathed trance, like the magical manipulation of a Jean Cocteau film. On top of a shared unwavering indestructibility to Duke Nukem, Dante is also a one-liner spewing machine. What is Dante’s response to Trish putting a gigantic hole in the side of his business with her motorbike? His first instinct is not shock or anger, but “Whoa, slow down, babe!” It’s as if she’s giving him a lap dance that is too aggressive for his liking, and as if he won’t have to shell out gobs of money to repair the damage. After his encounter with the terrifying fire spider/scorpion, Dante will eventually see a bird of equally formidable size threatening him in the skies and combats its words of hostility by telling it to “flock off, feather face!” The introductory cutscene before entering the main menu ends with Dante emitting the line of “let’s rock, baby,” a catchphrase only utterable by those who are completely, unquestionably confident in their coolness. Dante seemed to have the world convinced of his suave appeal, but do I think that he’s dreamy? Is he my gaming #mancrushmonday? Honestly, I perceive Dante as a clown instead of a charming rogue. The developers seem to be fully aware that Dante’s slick, nonchalant posturing is comical and is not intended to be emulated at school to woo girls. If the developers composed Dante with the same air of sincerity as a certain troubled Sonic the Hedgehog character, who also debuted in 2001 and shares a similar reputation, I’d be roasting him like Don Rickles.

But does Dante also kick ass and chew bubblegum? Well, that’s for the game to judge, and I almost mean that literally. Another credit to Devil May Cry’s rampant popularity during the PS2 era is its pioneering innovation in the realm of the “stylish action” game. In essence, what this hyper-specific genre entails is emphasizing the pizzazz that comes with the combat of a typical hack and slash game. Genre components such as combos, aerial attacks, and diversifying one’s moveset while executing these feats will be assessed on the criteria that the player continues a chain of these in a quick and proficient succession. The player’s ability to thread this seamless onslaught will be evaluated with letter grades, along with fitting alliterative terms per grade, ranging from D for “dull” to S for a striking “stylish,” as if the parallel connotations of being a contestant in a dive contest weren’t clear enough. One may think that the developers channeling their shared trauma of an extremely regimented Japanese educational upbringing puts an equal amount of pressure on the player to perform with perfection. However, it should be a relief that Devil May Cry’s combat mechanics are surprisingly simple. There is one attack button where Dante either slashes enemies with the “Alastor” sword or punches them with the fiery fury of the “Ifrit” gauntlets. Accompanying the melee equation of combat are a selection of firearms for long-range effect, including a shotgun, a grenade launcher, a laser powered by demonic magic, and Dante’s trusty twin pistols of contrasting colors that he’s nicknamed “Ebony and Ivory.” The name scheme is just too rich with exploitation sleaze for Quentin Tarantino not to steal and use for a future film of his. The effectiveness of each weapon at Dante’s disposal can also be briefly increased by activating a power gauge below his health bar, which replenishes quickly even if the player exhausts it fully. That’s the gist of the tools used to achieve high marks in Devil May Cry, and all the game asks of the player to do with this neatly categorized roulette is keep slashing and punching until the enemy is defeated to climb the grading scale. While I’m glad that the game doesn’t expect the flashy majesty of an Olympic athlete from the player, perhaps the simplicity doesn’t bode well with the realm of extravagance that a “stylish action” game is implied to exhibit. Because the guns aren’t factored into a combo chain, all the player has to do to reach that “S” score is mash the one melee button and hope that the enemy doesn’t slide away quickly enough before you beat it to death. Dante can learn new combat maneuvers through administering the red orb currency towards them in the upgrade menu, but are the improvements really necessary when the highest grades can be earned by repeating the basics of combat? Besides a surplus of red orbs given as a prize at the end of the level depending on how fluid the player’s overall performance, the “stylish” aspect of Devil May Cry’s hack and slash gameplay is rather superfluous.

The area in which Dante will be adeptly slicing and dicing stringless marionettes, floating ghosts with scythes, and the shielded lizalfos from The Legend of Zelda is not on the city streets of his business's zip code. Dante’s quest at Trish’s behest takes him to the likely often mispronounced Mallet Island, where he must stop the demonic lord Mundus from opening a gate between the living world and the underworld and toppling the order and balance of Earth once the portal is connected. There are also some personal stakes in this mission for our protagonist because Mundus allegedly murdered Dante’s mother and brother, which was prompted after Dante’s righteous demon father, Sparda, defeated Mundus in a war that took place centuries prior. Even though setting Devil May Cry in the winding, forking avenues of an urban environment would be reminiscent of PS1-era Resident Evil, something about the ancient establishment erected at the center of Mallet Island reverberates Resident Evil louder than Nemesis screaming STARS throughout Raccoon City. Mallet Island is a splendorous setting for everyone even slightly interested in a gothic aesthetic. Immediately, the foyer vestibule of the castle, with its marble statues, crumbled staircases, and a tall, hanging chandelier at its center, dimly lighting the spacious room, evokes an aura most ominous. Continually illuminating Devil May Cry at this faint, subdued setting continually dampens the exceedingly ornate architecture that persists in its libraries, dungeons, bedrooms, etc. In outdoor sections such as the various courtyards, the orange glow of a descending sun at dusk expertly keeps the consistency of the mood lighting even when the backdrop can’t logically be shrouded in shadows. When Dante finds himself outside of the castle walls, ocean waves crash against the elevated island as an elongated sunset perpetually glistens over the horizon. Whether the atmospheric tone is one of dread or the sublime beauty of a seaside landscape, Devil May Cry truly makes its case that the then-next generation PS2 could showcase some outstanding graphics. More importantly, the spooky tension that comes with the enclosure of an abandoned building of a former, ostensible esteem harkens back to the classic Resident Evil Spencer Mansion stepping grounds more resolutely than any of its sequels.

One also can’t help but make connections to Resident Evil when playing Devil May Cry because for some reason, the game has adopted its fixed camera perspective. Without a doubt, this is the one element passed on from Capcom’s former series that proves to be a glaring detriment to Devil May Cry. In survival horror games like the ones of the PS1 Resident Evil trilogy, having an omniscient outside force direct the viewpoint is acceptable because the action is languid, separated between sizable swathes of agitating silence, and can be mitigated entirely depending on the player’s resource management skills. When the action is continually at a blazing pace in the case of a hack and slash title like Devil May Cry, having the perspective consistently shift at will while the player is simultaneously keeping a keen sense of an enemy’s offense while adroitly attacking themselves is bound to throw the player off their much-needed mojo. The sharp, jarring transposing of camera angles inflicted plenty of damage on me while fighting, which I always figured was unfair due to the unnecessary blind spot that was instantaneously created. Borrowing Resident Evil’s methodical cinematic flair also proved to be punishing whenever Dante was forced to channel his inner Italian plumber and hop from platform to platform in many instances that were uncharacteristic for this type of game. Did the fact that Dante jumps with the paralyzed hesitation of teenager me having to do box jumps in gym class not clue the developers in that bouts of platforming should’ve been reconsidered? Changing the trajectory of these stilted acrobatics mid-flight just adds insult to injury. Even when the fixed camera takes a rest while Dante is underwater, nothing can salvage the stilted awkwardness of Dante swimming. Is this why he never has to periodically return to the surface to breathe?

Having to acclimate to these types of oversights can be quite the obstacle to overcome, for Devil May Cry isn’t exactly accommodating to player error. Regardless of one’s difficulty selection, any amount of harm Dante receives as a consequence of the player’s carelessness in combat will be quite harsh. Enemies will slice off meaty chunks of Dante’s health bar like a butcher cutting up a freshly slaughtered pig, and all it takes is one critical hit to turn Dante from a healthy green to a bleeding red. When the throngs of arcane adversaries prove to be too overwhelming and Dante dies as a result, the resurrection process leads to what is perhaps Devil May Cry’s strictest difficulty stipulation. Sharing the inventory of the upgrade menu alongside augmentations to Dante’s two devil triggers are a selection of enhancement items, such as a temporary shield and two elixirs that fully replenish one’s health and magic meter. Also sharing the list of aidful inventory are the smattering of orbs, which are diverse in color yet share an identical screaming visage. Like the magical pills in a Lewis Carroll fantasy realm, each color orb has a unique property that will maximize a distinct attribute of Dante’s. Fragments of the blue orbs can be put together to make a whole one, like finding four heart containers in a Zelda game, while purple orbs are allocated towards increasing the allotted time for Dante’s devil triggers. Personally, the orbs of most vital importance are the yellow ones, for they are essentially this world’s mushrooms that stockpile Dante’s life counter. What the player probably won’t realize until they’ve royally screwed themselves is that these 1-UPs don’t reset to a modest handful when a “game over” occurs. The player is forced to spend their hard-earned red orbs towards ensuring that they can afford the relief of checkpoints after dying, instead of having to revert to the beginning of a level. Considering the aggression of enemies matched with their whopping damage output, the player will feel like they can’t afford to purchase any other item. I felt this pang of despair particularly during a mission where I was caged in with a ghoul who kept literally cutting me down with Giallo-murderer-sized scissors. However, I implore the player not to abandon hope because of this stern caveat, for the lack of guaranteeing extra lives actually complements Devil May Cry’s level format. Devil May Cry’s missions are formatted with solidified finish lines, segmenting the events of the narrative with arbitrary objectives. The length of each “scene” can vary from a brief, breezy walk to an arduous series of objectives where being forced to do them without respite, with no checkpoints as a merciful safety net, can crush the player’s morale. When the player recognizes which missions are exhausting tests of endurance, they can conserve their red orbs for these instances and hardly have to rewind like they’re returning a VHS tape to Blockbuster.

I recommend that the player binge on yellow orbs when they’re faced with a mission that features a boss battle. Fighting the formidable, milestone foe is never be the sole focal point of a mission, which means that the likelihood of being battered and bruised upon encountering them is almost a guarantee. On top of that contextual hurdle to consider, each of the four bosses the game recycles throughout the story is strapped with a distinctive offensive attribute. The flaming arachnid I’ve mentioned several times before, Phantom, proves to be quite the early roadblock due to his sole source of vulnerability being obscured behind an impenetrable exoskeleton. Plucking the feathers off the demonic eagle, Griffon, isn’t an ordeal until he chooses to raid Dante on the mast of a ghost ship and takes advantage of the dearth of pronounced footing in this arena. Nelo Angelo is the only humanoid boss who also specializes in swordplay, and he can be smoothly skewered if the player patiently waits for him to stop flailing his weapon around. The aptly named Nightmare, on the other hand, is a mystifying boss due to its amorphous, gooey form, making its weak spot inconspicuous. Good thing the game has acquainted the player with the circular switches implanted in the walls; otherwise, Dante’s skull and bones would probably become another piece of the disgusting, Jello-like blob’s accumulated mass. While the repeat encounters may overstay the welcome of Mundus’s cronies, their physical and offensive distinctions, plus their genuine imposingness, are satisfying enough to keep the boss roster from growing stale.

It saddens me to say that among the exceptional crop of bosses that Devil May Cry displays, the pinnacle of vanquishing Mundus is unfortunately the game’s lowest point. The demon lordship’s first phase is an inappropriately implemented space shooter section, where the player is abruptly introduced to unfamiliar mechanics scaled to the apex difficulty found in a final boss battle. The phase that follows reinstates the more traditional combat mechanics, but Mundus must be approached from a safe distance on account of the pool of lava that surrounds him. Because the game inexplicably wouldn’t allow me to change to the Ifrit gauntlets and bombard him with its ranged meteors, I had to exploit the heavy damage output of the devil triggers and endure the burning sensation that is depleting Dante’s health. I can’t tell if this is clever or cheap on my part. After two excruciating phases, the evil bastard prolongs his eventual defeat by appearing in his most pitiful form to distract Dante from escaping the island before it explodes. I certainly grew to despise Mundus for all of his fuckery at the game’s final moments, but I already harbored a distaste for him as Devil May Cry’s central antagonist beforehand because of how much unsavory melodrama he injected into the narrative. Apparently, Trish is an identical apparition of Dante’s mother who was spawned by Mundus to torture him psychologically. Considering the promiscuous way she’s dressed, Dante has some oedipal predilections that I’m glad the game doesn’t explicitly delve into. As it is, the vexing way in which Trish betrays Dante at random occurrences just to apologize and revert to being his ally prompts some seriously trite melodramatic scenes from Mr. Cool–including one infamous line about “filling Trish’s dark soul with light” complete with a voice crack as the embarrassing cherry on top. I’m not saying that Dante can’t express a varied range of emotions, but this is like seeing Fonzie crying after publicly peeing his pants. I’d skip town after that display of reputation-ruining humiliation.

Capcom decided to reclaim its stance as architectural giants in the gaming medium once again by innovating on the hack and slash genre with Devil May Cry. While I’m convinced of Devil May Cry’s allure in its chic presentation, bewitching setting, and fairly charismatic protagonist, the game is heavily hindered by tons of dissonant decisions that clash with its intended direction. Except for the environments, all of Devil May Cry’s shortcomings stem from its successive relationship to Resident Evil, of which it shouldn’t share any characteristics with, due to the divergence between their gameplay mechanics. Angling the camera sporadically during intense combat bouts and treating checkpoints with the same scarcity as ink ribbons proved to make Devil May Cry insufferable at times. I understand that Devil May Cry’s foundation was initially formulated as the fourth Resident Evil game, but one of the developers should’ve noticed the discrepancies and promptly cut the umbilical cord. However, I’m not worried about the series’ future, for any child should start weaning off of its mother’s milk after its infancy.