The Sinking City 2 Review: Frogwares Trades Open-World Bloat for Pure Lovecraftian Terror

When Frogwares originally launched The Sinking City, it presented a fascinating proposition: combine the cerebral deduction of detective mysteries with the damp, writhing dread of H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos, all set within a sprawling, semi-submerged open world. It was an ambitious blueprint that ultimately buckled under the weight of its own design, suffering from the classic open-world affliction of spreading too little narrative butter across far too much toasted geography. The mystery dissolved into repetitive busywork, sapping the cosmic horror right out of the experience. Fortunately, developer Frogwares has learned hard lessons. The Sinking City 2 wisely bins the tedious open-world traversal in favor of tight, focused survival horror that channels the golden era of classic franchise pillars.

Set in a beautifully grim 1920s rendition of Arkham—the iconic fictional city, not Batman’s preferred holding cell for eccentric supervillains—the sequel drops players into a brilliantly constrained nightmare. The city is drowning, the evacuation is practically complete, and you step into the polished shoes of Calvin Rafferty, a brand-new protagonist and hat-wearing occult adventurer on a desperate mission. Cal is trying to revive his partner in both occult crime-fighting and life, Faye Bennett, who is trapped in a supernatural coma following a fateful expedition to the perilous Dreamlands. What follows is essentially Resident Evil: Roaring ’20s Revelations, complete with intricate puzzle locks, claustrophobic corridor navigation, and resilient zombies that foolishly return stronger if you fail to put them down properly.

A Masterclass in Constrained Cosmic Horror

By abandoning the boat-hopping tedium of its predecessor, The Sinking City 2 finds its true identity. The shift toward a linear, interconnected level design breathes fresh, albeit musty, air into the genre. You no longer wander aimlessly across redundant map markers; instead, every flooded street corner and decaying Victorian parlor feels meticulously crafted to induce paranoia. Frogwares proves that you do not need a massive sandbox to tell a compelling cosmic horror story—sometimes, locking the player in a sinking room with unspeakable aquatic horrors is all it takes to make the magic happen.

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