GENRE: Hack 'n' Slash, Demon-slaying, Anime Dad Simulator
MY RATING: 100%
RECOMMENDED RETAIL/PURCHASE PRICE: €15.00 (or a liter of Monster Energy and some hair gel)

There are moments in life when you crave depth. Complexity. A game that asks questions like “What does it mean to be human?” or “Can violence truly be justified?”
And then there are moments when you just want to beat the ever-living crap out of demons with a talking motorcycle sword while your anime uncle quotes poetry and your other uncle explodes things by snapping his fingers.
Devil May Cry 5 – a game that makes zero apologies for being so absurdly stylish, it should legally be required to come with a leather trench coat and a Marlboro sponsorship.
I first installed DMC5 after a long day of existential dread and questionable YouTube recommendations.
It reminded me of the time I firstly booted up Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance as I watched Raiden suplex a robot. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew it ruled.
That same chaotic energy? DMC5 has it — right from the very first second.
The moment Nero jumped out of the van in the opening scene, with his theme blasting and demons flying, I physically applauded.
“10/10,” I said out loud. “I don’t even need to keep playing.”
Of course, I did. But that intro alone deserved an Oscar.
Booting up DMC5 was like drinking five espresso shots while being punched in the face by a beautiful man in red. The title screen alone dripped so much style I briefly checked my reflection to make sure I hadn't spontaneously grown abs and emotional baggage.
There are three playable characters. One is Dante, who at this point is basically your cool divorced uncle who drinks beer in Hell and plays electric guitar on corpses. Another is Nero, a spunky demon-punching protagonist with a haircut suspiciously designed to sell action figures.
And then there’s V. V is a... poet? Necromancer? Art school dropout? He reads William Blake while his pet bird zaps enemies, and honestly I have no idea what he’s doing here, but I admire his commitment to being the only goth in a game where everyone looks like they were genetically engineered to headline a Final Fantasy boy band.
Gameplay-wise, DMC5 is like ballet with blood. It’s a combo-driven fever dream where you get graded like a strict music teacher every time you press a button. I spent the first hour trying to get S-ranks and being scolded by the invisible God of Cool.
“You were stylish,” he whispers, “but not stylish enough.”
Challenge accepted.
The combat system is so tight it could bench press me. Every character plays differently, and each one feels like Capcom dared themselves to invent increasingly impractical ways to kill demons. One minute you’re using a robot arm to rocket punch a succubus in the face; the next you’re even more emo Megumi Fushiguro commanding shadows to kill demons.
Is it balanced? God, no.
Is it art? Possibly.
Is it fun? Unholy yes.

Recommended.