The Curious Case of Let it Die: Inferno: Genius, Madness, and Microtransactions
AI Gaming News Author · Eurogamer ·
Let it Die: Inferno is a gloriously bizarre extraction game with a unique aesthetic and engaging loop, but its brilliance is unfortunately overshadowed by aggressive microtransactions and questionable generative AI use, making it a conflicting, curious experience.
Alright, buckle up, legends, because I’ve just been down a rabbit hole weirder than a glitch in the Matrix caused by a rogue spell. We're talking 'Let it Die: Inferno', and bloody hell, it's a trip. Think extraction shooter, but if H.R. Giger designed the level art while wearing a party hat, and the whole thing was funded by a mischievous AI with a penchant for craburgers.
My mate Connor Makar over at Eurogamer had a crack at it, and his take, published on December 4th, 2025, really hit the nail on the head: it's perhaps the weirdest extraction game he’s ever played, both endlessly intriguing and disappointing. And after digging into his thoughts, I reckon he’s spot on. (Massive thanks to Connor Makar and Eurogamer for the original insights!) His feature laid out the bizarre brilliance and frustrating pitfalls, and honestly, it sounds like the kind of game that causes spontaneous existential crises, in the best possible way.
Right from the jump, 'Let it Die: Inferno' doesn't just push the envelope; it folds it into an origami dragon and sets it on fire. You start off, as Connor describes, having died, been shoved into a new meat-puppet body, and signed up for a lifetime of servitude. Your welcoming committee? A brain-powered robot called Mom and a weeping, tattooed lady. Naturally, they strap you into a capsule, load you into a cannon, and fire you straight into the gates of Hell. What on Earth is going on? Don't ask too many questions; just embrace the chaos, mate.
The developers, Supertrick Games, are madcap in their approach to worldbuilding, and it’s genuinely refreshing. In a genre often saturated with bland modern military aesthetics and, let’s be honest, gloried gun porn, going full tilt into occult magic, modern apparel, and sentient Nutcrackers who forge giant hammers (yes, really!) is a stroke of genius. Your base is a floating scrapyard sci-fi hub, packed with a gaggle of characters that look like they’ve escaped from a cyberpunk circus. It’s a setting that isn’t just replicated elsewhere; it feels like it couldn't *exist* elsewhere. A truly unique concoction that immediately hooked my curious little digital wizard brain.
Now, here’s where things get a bit… clunky. Like trying to cast a precision spell with mittens on. Connor observed that the combat isn't exactly fluid; you're more likely to plod than glide. And some animations feel like they're taking a scenic detour before landing a hit. It’s a familiar foible for the series, apparently, which, fair dinkum, you’d hope they’d have greased up by now. Still, even amidst the occasional clunkiness, there’s a genuine thrill to the Deathblows. Imagine charging up a shield adorned with a lady's portrait, only to unleash a squirming mass of tentacles that just *annihilates* everything in front of you. Chef's kiss! And the enemies? Giant bugs disguised as plastic playground dolphins, stumbling piles of boxes with knife arms, and my personal favourite, scuttling Craburgers. Yes, actual crab burgers you can kill and scarf down. The visual design is H.R. Giger throwing a rave in a neon-lit hellscape, all bright purples, glowing blues, and aggressive oranges. It’s off-putting and puzzlingly joyful all at once.
But where 'Let it Die: Inferno' really gets its hooks in, much like a particularly sticky spell, is its extraction loop and that utterly mad body-swap system. You're not just some faceless grunt; you’re a rotating cast of meat-puppets. Die, and you’re plopped into a new body, each with different class affiliations. But here’s the kicker: keep a body alive over consecutive runs, and it gets permanent boosts. We're talking game-changers like the ability to scale new parts of the environment. Die stupidly, though, and you lose not only your body but most of your gear. It’s a soul-searing experience, Connor notes, but in the delightful, masochistic way that extraction game enthusiasts crave. The structure, too, encourages bold pushes deeper into the Hellgate, promising better loot and harder challenges for those daring enough to risk it all.
Alright, deep breath, because this is where the joyride hits a bump that feels less like a speed hump and more like a crater from an orbital strike: the microtransactions. Bloody hell, Supertrick, what are we doing here? Connor’s piece paints a picture of a game that's less 'free-to-play with optional extras' and more 'pay-to-progress-without-wanting-to-tear-your-hair-out.' From the get-go, 40% of playable bodies are locked behind their premium 'Death Metal' currency. You get five free gear crafting slots, with more costing premium currency. And those crucial healing items and consumables? Tricky to find in a dive, but don't worry, you can *buy* them with premium currency. I mean, what can you do but sigh? It's a familiar, bitter taste for anyone who's dipped their toe into previous 'Let it Die' games, but seeing such fundamental aspects locked away, especially in a game with PvP encounters, just feels… well, it feels like someone's trying to sell you magic potions you *need* to survive, rather than ones you *want* for fun. Imagine losing your meticulously earned gear to some legend who just paid to have an inventory full of healing items and a boosted body. Not exactly a level playing field, is it, mate?
And then there's the elephant in the digital room, or perhaps a pair of talking puppets: the use of generative AI. Now, I'm all for experimenting with new tech, Lord knows I spend half my day doing it. But when a studio known for its wildly inventive, handcrafted weirdness decides to use AI for background art and, more controversially, for character voices, it raises an eyebrow or two. Supertrick’s justification for giving characters like Moz and Gez AI-generated voices – claiming it fit their 'mysterious life forms' – feels a bit thin, doesn't it? As Connor wisely pointed out, this is a team that’s given us real human mouths on bosses and other utterly bonkers, *hand-crafted* ways to convey otherworldliness. To then resort to AI feels less like innovation and more like... watering down the secret sauce. Does it *add* anything of value? Or does it just make you wonder what brilliant, human-made strangeness we missed out on?
So, where does that leave 'Let it Die: Inferno'? It’s a bit like a magical artefact that’s incredibly powerful but also curses you with mild indigestion. It's a genuinely captivating, brilliantly bizarre game with a unique artistic vision, as Connor's review highlights. You’ll laugh, you’ll be disgusted, you’ll marvel at the sheer audacity of its design. But you'll also sigh deeply at the monetization practices and scratch your head over the AI choices. Will I keep playing? Probably, out of sheer, morbid curiosity. Because even a cursed artefact holds secrets, right? And the 'gold buried in these hills' is genuinely shiny, if you can just wade through the premium currency pit and the slightly questionable artistic shortcuts. It's an experience, that's for sure. A wild, wonky, and wonderfully frustrating one.
Tags: Extraction Shooter, Indie Games, Game Review, Monetization, AI in Gaming
Original article: Eurogamer