A review of Castlevania: Belmont's Curse finds the game inspired by great ideas, but doomed by questionable execution.

Spoiler warning: this article discusses story beats, boss encounters, and late-game systems from Castlevania: Belmont's Curse.

Background: A Series That Shaped the Map

Castlevania: Belmont's Curse arrives with a weight of history behind it. The game is developed by Evil Empire, the studio behind Dead Cells, and published by Konami. It was revealed at the Xbox Games Showcase 2026.

The lineage matters. Castlevania: Symphony of the Night established the template that a whole genre would be named after, and Castlevania: The Adventure ReBirth, itself a remake of a 1989 game, was released 17 years before Belmont's Curse. In the years between, the "Metroidvania" space filled with challengers: Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown, Hollow Knight, Animal Well, Ori, and the newer Metroid titles. As the review notes, what Dracula spawned has become quicker, more aggressive, and more mysterious, and Evil Empire understands that.

Development: Rose Belmont, Tarot Cards, and a Ruined Paris

Belmont's Curse casts players as Rose Belmont, the protégé daughter of Castlevania 3's main characters Trevor Belmont and Sypha Belnades, and a fearless vampire slayer in her own right. The story is set in 1499, in a ruined version of Paris where Dracula's underlings wreak havoc and test her integrity.

A lengthy tutorial introduces her central gimmick: a pack of tarot cards capable of sealing away the souls of those enthralled by the king of vampires. From there, the game returns players to the bowels of Castle Dracula, jumping, whipping, and navigating a sprawling map, with more areas unlocking as new skills are gained. Clues about the main antagonists and their whereabouts surface gradually, weaving an interconnected web of intrigue inside a story that is over 500 years old.

What Works: Mirrors, Notre-Dame, and the Clock Tower

Some of what Belmont's Curse lays down is absolutely inspired. The way all the mirrors connect is described as sublime. A music-based puzzle in the depths of Notre-Dame cathedral is simply wonderful. The platforming gauntlet that takes players up the Clock Tower is great when all the gears are working in tandem.

The pacing also earns praise. Just when the spike traps and magical walls start to wear thin, Evil Empire tosses a combat gauntlet at the player, combining enemies not yet encountered. With no health potions left, the game becomes an exercise in pure desperation and a test of savoir-faire, a reminder that every purified boss has unlocked a new spell. Some refill health if the player is canny; others grant fleeting and precarious shields; more bind enemies in one place, providing reliable anchors for the whip and allowing dashes and hops over a sea of hazards. In these moments, the action-first philosophy of Evil Empire is exceptional, and the Dead Cells DNA is undeniable.

What Doesn't: Eight Directions in a Fluid World

For all the genius of its twisting corridors, secrets-upon-secrets, and sadistic environmental trickery, Belmont's Curse is too often undermined. The core problem is tension between how Rose is forced to move and how the world around her works.

Rose's inputs, attacks, and very being are defined by the classic eight directions of a D-pad, while everything else exists on a more fluid plane. Some abilities and attacks only work directly up, down, or side-to-side, but enemies move in more organic ways or throw weapons in flowing arcs. Using the whip on enemies or anchors outside a specific, awkward spot is a nightmare, turning smartly designed platforming segments into exercises in fighting the game and its engine. Rose frequently gets stuck between an enemy and its shield, stacking damage, while the whip fails to glue where it should and sends the player back to the checkpoint again. The awkward controls and framerate plummets, even on PS5 Pro, cause so many deaths that it becomes irritating.

The review also flags mean-spirited design: some checkpointing is unduly punishing, and the method for accessing fast travel and easing backtracking is needlessly convoluted and frustrating. Taking away the map in the most dizzying locale is judged exasperating busywork rather than clever.

Boss Fights and the Verdict

The tension between design and execution is most egregious in boss fights. Some are smart mechanical gauntlets testing twitch reflexes and stamina; some are genuinely funny, simple encounters. Others are over-designed, cramming too many ideas in and ending up unbalanced. In a particularly tough fight (the review shouts out Death), a slippery whip or a weird platforming interaction is enough to end a run. No matter how many stat-boosting trinkets are equipped or which of the seven weapon types is in use, a single misplaced boot on the edge of a ledge will kill you. That, the review argues, doesn't feel very Belmont.

The final assessment frames Belmont's Curse as a game of two halves: beyond the literal split dividing the Parisian sequences from the rest of the game, there is a spiritual cleft between its desire to be an action-platformer and its aspirations of Metroidvania royalty. Like Rose herself, the game is earnest, intelligent, and capable of brilliance, but also awkward and unable to fully come to terms with its own identity in the shadow of an over-bearing legacy. It is by no means a bad game; Evil Empire simply sank its teeth a bit too deep into something it wasn't quite ready to consume. A copy of Castlevania: Belmont's Curse was provided for this review by Konami.