| Cronos: The New Dawn | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Release Date | Gameplay & Story | DLC & Pre-Order | Review |
Cronos: The New Dawn Review Overview
What is Cronos: The New Dawn?
Cronos: The New Dawn is a third-person survival horror game developed by Bloober Team, set in a bleak Eastern European future scarred by a catastrophic event known as The Change. Players step into the role of a Traveler, an agent of the Collective, tasked with entering unstable time rifts to recover the Essences of those lost to the apocalypse. By navigating hostile zones, contending with mutated monsters, and managing scarce resources, players attempt to alter the course of humanity’s survival.
Cronos: The New Dawn features:
⚫︎ Third Person Survival Horror
⚫︎ Time Rifts and Essence Recovery Missions
⚫︎ Brutalist and Underground Environments
⚫︎ Workstations for Upgrades and Progression
⚫︎ Multiple Story Endings
For more gameplay details, read everything we know about Cronos: The New Dawn's gameplay and story.
| Digital Storefronts | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
 Steam |
 Epic Games |
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 PSN |
 Xbox |
 Nintendo eShop |
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| $59.99 | |||||
Cronos: The New Dawn Pros & Cons
| Pros | Cons |
|---|---|
 Gripping and Unsettling Story with Multiple Endings Oppressive Atmosphere Exploration and Backtracking is Rewarding Enemy Designs Evolve Visually and Behaviorally |
Overabundance of Enemies Slow Aiming Restrictive Torch Fuel Mechanic Combat Pacing Drags Out the Loop |
Cronos: The New Dawn Story - 9/10
Cronos tells a gripping and unnerving tale that balances mystery with just enough clarity to keep you hooked. The pacing is steady and the story adheres well to its own rules without breaking immersion. It doesn’t quite hit a perfect score since some endings might disappoint players and a few narrative beats rely heavily on player interpretation, but it’s still one of the strongest elements of the game.
Cronos: The New Dawn Gameplay - 8/10
The gameplay loop thrives on exploration, upgrades, and the tension of scarcity, creating a rewarding but punishing survival rhythm. Combat, however, can feel sluggish, with aiming issues and a heavy reliance on a restrictive fire mechanic that limits flexibility. These frustrations don’t ruin the core loop, but they hold it back from achieving a smoother or more balanced flow.
Cronos: The New Dawn Visuals - 9/10
Visually, Cronos nails its oppressive, atmospheric design—claustrophobic underground tunnels, desolate facilities, and evolving monsters all look striking and memorable. The art direction sets a consistent mood that makes even simple environments unsettling. It’s not flawless, though, as certain areas lean on repetition and technical hiccups can occasionally break immersion.
Cronos: The New Dawn Audio - 7/10
The soundscape supports the tension with eerie ambient effects and unsettling enemy noises, but the score itself doesn’t always rise to the occasion. Music tends to fade into the background instead of driving emotional peaks, and some sound cues can feel mismatched with the moment. It works well enough, but compared to the game’s visuals and story, audio feels like the weakest link.
Cronos: The New Dawn Value for Money - 9/10
At $59.99, Cronos offers a 20-30 hour survival horror experience that justifies its price through strong atmosphere, replayable multiple endings, and progression systems that invite experimentation. The main campaign length feels appropriate without dragging, and while frustrations exist in gameplay, they don’t overshadow the content packed into the journey. It’s a worthwhile investment for survival horror fans.
Cronos: The New Dawn Overall Score - 84/100
Cronos: The New Dawn is undoubtedly an amazing game that delivers on atmosphere, story, and exploration, offering a survival horror experience that’s easy to respect. Yet, uneven combat pacing, scarcity-driven frustration, and audio shortcomings keep it from absolute greatness. Still, it feels like the kind of game that will build a loyal, passionate player base—one that embraces its rough edges as part of the survival horror charm.
Cronos: The New Dawn Review: A Proper Survival Horror
Horror Roots and Why Cronos Hooks
There’s a certain kind of madness that comes with being raised on survival horror. I don’t mean dipping my toes in here and there—I mean growing up with it like a sibling, a twin even. My blood and bones are stitched with the genre. Which, if you think about it, probably says a lot about my questionable childhood entertainment choices. Who in their right mind should be playing through grotesque, gore-soaked nightmares at nine years old? Yet there I was, clutching a controller, peeking through my fingers at the monsters Capcom and Konami thought were fit to unleash on the world.
From the quiet dread of Silent Hill’s fog to the chaotic pulse of Resident Evil’s crimson corridors, I’ve seen it all. I’ve hunted down the classics, dug through the obscure imports that never made the front pages, and kept playing even when the genre fell into years of silence. Horror is the language I know best, and survival horror is the dialect I dream in.
So when Cronos: The New Dawn landed in my lap, I didn’t just approach it with curiosity—I came to it like someone recognizing a familiar silhouette in the dark. The pitch alone had me leaning forward: a bleak, psychological survival horror where time itself is a weapon, where you "extract" figures from the past to salvage what’s left of the future. It reminded me of those weird experiments in the genre’s golden years, the kind of ideas that dared to stretch the formula. Honestly, it even made me think of The 3rd Birthday when I first read about the shifting between past and present.
But survival horror is a tricky beast. It thrives on atmosphere, pacing, and balance. Too little tension, and you’re left with a lifeless husk. Too much, and it turns from horror into headache. I knew from the start Cronos would either land in greatness or collapse under the weight of its ambition.
So did it live up to expectations? Well… let’s just say you might want to keep the lights on while I tell you about it.
A Future Lost to the Epidemic
Cronos doesn’t ease you into its world. It throws you face-first into a future that feels both foreign and eerily familiar; a brutalist Eastern European landscape swallowed by a mysterious epidemic. There’s no bustling city life, no distant hum of civilization, just the dead weight of concrete towers and rusted machinery looming over a planet that feels like it’s already given up. Humanity, as far as the eye can see, is gone. At least… humanity as you and I know it.
What’s left is the Collective, a remnant of organized survivors, if you can even call them that. They’re not rebuilding society in the way you might imagine. Their purpose is colder, more clinical: preserve what can be salvaged, continue the mission, and ensure that their Traveler—you—carries out the grim work of piecing together what’s been lost. You’re not a savior in the traditional sense. You’re more like a scavenger of time, a custodian of the past.
That’s where the "extraction" comes in. At first, the term sounds vague, almost sinister, and honestly, it is. As the Traveler, your job isn’t just to survive the nightmare-ridden present, it’s to step through the rips in time itself, slip back into the past, and locate key figures who once mattered to humanity’s survival. Extract them, bring their memories forward into the dying future, and maybe—just maybe—keep the world from crumbling apart.
But the past isn’t a safe refuge. It’s haunted in its own way, fractured by anomalies, littered with traces of what came to be called The Change. That’s the event, or series of events, that transformed the world from fragile to forsaken. Walking through time, you don’t just fight monsters; you witness fragments of how it all unraveled. One moment you’re navigating the ruins of the present, the next you’re standing in a living, breathing memory, where the shadows of the epidemic’s beginnings cling to every wall.
It’s unsettling because it plays on two fronts: the present suffocates you with decay, while the past unsettles you with the inevitability of collapse. There’s no real safe haven, only different flavors of dread. And that, in a way, is Cronos at its most effective, a survival horror where even time itself is an enemy you can’t quite escape.
Oppression in Concrete and Memory
If there’s one thing Cronos: The New Dawn nails from the very first step, it’s atmosphere. Every corridor, every chamber, every desolate street corner feels like it’s pressing down on you. The game spends much of its time underground, trapping you in tunnels that are equal parts suffocating and disorienting. Narrow walkways force you into the dark where you can’t see more than a few feet ahead, and every flicker of light feels borrowed, like the environment is barely tolerating your presence.
And then, when you surface, the air doesn’t get any lighter. Instead, the world expands into harsh brutalist architecture—monolithic towers of concrete and steel that dwarf you in scale and spirit. There’s no comfort in wide spaces; you’re reminded just how small and insignificant you are compared to the bones of this dead world. Even outside, the atmosphere feels claustrophobic. Cronos manages to make the sky feel as heavy as the earth beneath your boots.
But atmosphere isn’t just built on environment. It’s layered with story, or rather, fragments of story scattered like breadcrumbs through the ruins. Old letters, journal entries, and data logs piece together the slow suffocation of the epidemic, showing not just the collapse of society but the intimate struggles of the people who lived through it. These aren’t just collectibles for lore hunters; they’re stitched directly into the way you perceive the world. Reading about someone desperately rationing food or watching their community vanish one by one hits harder when you’re already struggling to keep your own resources from running dry.
And then there is the collection of essences. These are more than narrative ploys, they shape both the story and your playstyle. Depending on which essences you collect, your Traveler doesn’t just gain passive bonuses; they begin to see the narrative differently. The choices you make while collecting them ripple into multiple endings, nudging the story down different paths. It’s not the kind of morality system that waves a flag at every crossroad—it’s quieter, more insidious. Did you favor one type of essence over another? Then the world will remember that, even if you didn’t realize you were making a choice.
This blend of environment, fragmented storytelling, and subtle player agency gives Cronos its psychological punch. You’re not just surviving moment to moment—you’re carrying the weight of lives that came before, watching echoes of the epidemic unfold, and wondering whether your own decisions will break the cycle or simply repeat it. The game makes you complicit in the atmosphere of oppression, and that’s a rare kind of storytelling in horror.
The Loop That Keeps You Running
The gameplay loop in Cronos: The New Dawn is, como si dice, a mixed bag. But before we dive into the messy parts, let’s start with what the game does really well.
Exploration is easily the highlight here. The game thrives on backtracking—not in a tedious way, but in that old-school survival horror way where locked doors laugh in your face until you’ve dug deep enough into another area to find the missing key or access. That simple structure keeps momentum going. You’re always bouncing between places, peeling back layers of the world, and that act of retracing your steps ends up being half the fun.
Holding it all together are the Workstations. Think of them as waypoints carved into the middle of each arc. Reaching one feels like cresting a hill after a brutal climb. They’re not just save spots—they’re progress markers, hubs where you can finally exhale. More importantly, they’re where the upgrade system comes alive.
Upgrading in Cronos feels deliberate. The game doesn’t drown you in options or overwhelm you with a skill tree that looks like an IT flowchart. Instead, it gives you just enough to chew on. Energies are the common currency, always popping up here and there, but cores? Cores are the real prize. Rare, precious, and often tied to specific areas or Workstations. And it’s through those cores that you improve everything: your Traveler’s suit, your weapons, even the tools that help you survive just a little longer.
This is where the scarcity works in the game’s favor. Because upgrades are locked behind limited resources, each choice feels meaningful. Do you pour what little you have into making your shotgun hit harder, or do you toughen up your armor to survive another ambush? There’s never enough to do it all, and that oppressive lack of abundance ties directly into the mood of the world. Progression doesn’t come easy here, it’s earned, wrestled from the game’s claws.
So yes, the loop can be punishing, but when it works, it nails that survival horror sweet spot, every step forward feels like it was bought with sweat, ammo, and more than a few nervous glances over your shoulder.
Combat Frustrations
Of course, with every strength comes a flaw, and Cronos: The New Dawn is no exception. I said before that I’m a fan of the loop’s structure, and I stand by that—but the combat layered on top of it? That’s where things start to wobble.
On paper, the encounters are tense. You’re meant to feel hunted, cornered, always one step away from running dry. And in those fleeting moments when everything clicks, it works—you edge around a hallway, shotgun trembling in your hands, and an enemy lunges from the dark. It’s messy, stressful, and exactly the kind of tension survival horror thrives on.
But the cracks show fast. The aiming feels sluggish, like your reticle is trudging through molasses, and hit registration isn’t always on your side. I lost count of the times I unloaded a shotgun point-blank, only for the monster to shrug it off like I’d thrown a pebble. Maybe bugs, maybe poor balancing, but either way it’s enough to sour the satisfaction. You’ll spend as much time trying to outsmart the monsters—which, to its credit, is smart enough to wait in corners—as you will wrestling against the controls.
And then there’s the sheer number of enemies. One or two at a time would’ve been plenty to keep the pressure up. Instead, every corridor feels stuffed to bursting, turning what should be tense encounters into exhausting gauntlets. The scarcity of resources, which earlier reinforced the oppressive atmosphere, here just doubles the frustration. When every corner throws another fight at you, suddenly that scarcity feels less like design and more like punishment.
It doesn’t help that the drops are random, and not in a fun roguelike way. Need bullets? Too bad—here’s more energy. Running low on healing patches? Have some torch fuel instead. It’s almost comical how often the game withholds exactly what you need. (Oh and I’ll get to torch fuels in the next section.)
All of this adds up to one major issue: pacing. The loop is already long, with objectives that snake from point A to point C to point F before finally circling back to point B. That would be fine if exploration carried the weight, but when every leg of that journey is crammed with combat, the game starts to drag. What should feel like survival slowly devolves into attrition. Not tension—fatigue.
Monsters That Refuse to Die
If there’s one thing Cronos: The New Dawn refuses to let you forget, it’s that the monsters aren’t just background noise. They don’t just lurk in the corners—they change. They evolve. Not in the "now they dodge bullets" kind of way, but in how they look and behave. Each new area carries the creeping dread of something nastier waiting for you, something that moves just differently enough to keep you second-guessing your approach.
The catch? No matter how much they evolve, they all share one ugly truth: fire is the only thing that really kills them. Shoot them, sure—they’ll collapse, as if you’ve finally won. But turn your back and soon enough you’ll hear the sickening sound of them dragging themselves upright again. Worse than before, actually, because now they’ve all merged into one. It’s not enough to outgun them, you need to burn them. Every. Single. Time.
And that’s where the frustration really sets in. Fire is crucial to actually putting enemies down, but your torch fuel is painfully limited. You don’t get a flamethrower, no reliable fallback—just a temperamental mechanic that turns survival into a juggling act, fiddly rather than frightening. You’re not dreading the monsters anymore; you’re dreading whether your measly amount of torch fuel can burn 3-5 monsters.
Honestly, by the time I hit the midpoint, I was begging Bloober in my head, "just give me a flamethrower. Please." If the whole survival system hinges on fire being the true finisher, then it deserves a weapon that reflects that—not a glorified lighter with a fuel gauge. Without it, every encounter becomes a nerve-grinding equation of bullets spent, torch fuel hoarded, and the growing dread that you’ll be caught empty-handed when the next monster rises back up.
Is Cronos: The New Dawn Worth It?
Worth Every Shiver
Where the game falters, it falters hard. The combat pacing tips from tense to tedious, stretching encounters long past the point of fear into frustration. The scarcity of resources, which should’ve been a sharp tool to heighten dread, instead becomes a blunt instrument, hammering you with random drops and endless firefights that wear you down. Add in clunky aiming, questionable hit detection, and the infamous torch mechanic that ties your hands, and the tension often feels sabotaged by its own systems.
But still, at the end of the day, I still recommend this game. For all my gripes, I can’t deny that Cronos: The New Dawn does certain things exceptionally well. Its story is gripping in that strange, almost cultish way where every fragment of lore feels like a half-remembered nightmare. The atmosphere is second to none, an oppressive weight pressing down on you whether you’re trapped in its claustrophobic underground tunnels or dwarfed by its looming brutalist architecture. It nails that feeling of inhabiting a world already lost, a place where survival is less about hope and more about enduring long enough to see the next Workstation flicker in the dark.
At $59.99, you’re getting a survival horror that refuses to hold your hand, one that demands patience, stubbornness, and a willingness to wade through its rough edges for the payoff of its story and atmosphere. Bloober has doubled down on making you feel small, powerless, and uncomfortable, and there’s value in that, even if it doesn’t always translate into fun… It’s not a game you’ll necessarily adore, but it is one you’ll respect—for its atmosphere, its narrative ambition. If you’re ready for a survival horror that demands patience and resilience, Cronos: The New Dawn is worth the plunge.
| Digital Storefronts | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Steam |
Epic Games |
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| PSN |
Xbox |
Nintendo eShop |
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| $59.99 | |||||
Cronos: The New Dawn FAQ
How Can I Maximize the One-to-Two Slot Use of Torch Fuels in Cronos?
Torch Fuel dispensers never run out, so make sure to return to them regularly and refill whenever you can.
How Do I Stop from Constantly Dying in Cronos?
The shotgun is the only reliable weapon at close range, so keep moving and avoid getting cornered. Also, make use of the environment—gas tanks scattered around can be shot to create explosions that take out nearby enemies.
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Cronos: The New Dawn Product Information
 |
|
| Title | CRONOS: THE NEW DAWN |
|---|---|
| Release Date | September 5, 2025 |
| Developer | Bloober Team |
| Publisher | Bloober Team SA |
| Supported Platforms | PC, PS5, Xbox Series X|S |
| Genre | Action, Horror, Survival |
| Number of Players | 1 |
| ESRB Rating | M |
| Official Website | Cronos: The New Dawn Website |
