
Opinion
The best thing about Death Stranding 2? Multiplayer mode
by Philipp Rüegg
Ghost of Yōtei follows in the footsteps of Red Dead Redemption 2. However, the samurai game just doesn’t have the stones to consistently follow in those big footsteps. It’s just too scared the audience might get bored.
My horse and I narrowly escape an ambush. Enemy samurai just attacked us in the middle of a snowstorm. Their blood is already getting covered by a fresh layer of snow. With great difficulty and dwindling strength, we make our way through waist-high snow. Slowly, a song begins to play softly. I feel the weight of the moment and the danger facing my warrior Atsu, freezing to death in the cold.
In this moment, Ghost of Yōtei reminds me of Rockstar’s western epic Red Dead Redemption 2. That game also has some quiet yet atmospheric moments.
But just as I think this, the music fades away again and the scene ends. It didn’t even last 40 seconds. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed how Sucker Punch, the studio behind Ghost of Yōtei, doesn’t allow things to slow down – ever.
There’s a similar scene right at the start. After an emotional moment accompanied by atmospheric music, Atsu rides through a picturesque gorge. However, the game can’t have me complete this walk without doing something. Collectibles dot the left and right sides of the path. Almost like the game’s telling me, «I know you want to pick up your phone again. Here, do something.»
I admit, I’m one of those gamers who tap away on their phones at the slightest hint of boredom. But even I can enjoy quiet moments if I let a scene sink in. There’s no time for that in Ghost of Yōtei.
Sucker Punch’s open-world samurai game sometimes reminds me of mobile games. They’re designed to constantly stimulate you so you stay on for as long as possible. Even in Ghost of Yōtei, I can’t ride 50 metres without stumbling across a bandit camp, a wolf den or a storyteller. It just doesn’t feel like a real, living world to me. Things are far too dense for that.
When I’m supposed to help a village repel bandits, a resident says he heard an explosion nearby. Maybe I should have a look there. Nearby? The spot in question is just outside the village, behind the next rock. It was hardly worth getting on a horse.
A different time, I look for a legendary suit of armour. In doing so, I follow several blue ribbons, most of which are hung from old, gnarled trees. On the way to the last one, I accidentally ride too close to a wolf den and unintentionally trigger another quest. Of course, the wolf I have to follow sprints in the other direction.
I can’t throw a stone without hitting a sidequest. That’s great when I’m looking for constant dopamine hits, but annoying when I’m trying to immerse myself in the world. As a result, Ghost of Yōtei feels disappointing to me. At its core, it remains an open-world title like many others. I just wish it packaged its checklist system more elegantly.
As a child, I wasn't allowed to have any consoles. It was only with the arrival of the family's 486 PC that the magical world of gaming opened up to me. Today, I'm overcompensating accordingly. Only a lack of time and money prevents me from trying out every game there is and decorating my shelf with rare retro consoles.
This is a subjective opinion of the editorial team. It doesn't necessarily reflect the position of the company.
Show allWith its dreamlike backdrop, meaningful narrative and design styled down to the very last menu, Ghost of Yōtei keeps hinting that it wants to be like Red Dead Redemption. The western epic uses deliberate slow moments, especially in the second game, to make scenes work. But even in the first one, most people will remember the moment when you’re crossing the border to Mexico for the first time with Far Away by Jose Gonzales playing. Could you imagine the track being cut off after 30 seconds?
Something similar happens when I ride across a damaged bridge. At the other end, a commander speaks to me and complains that the bridge is sabotaged every night by strangers. But since they don’t have the capacity to deal with the problem themselves, they want me to lie in wait. I scout out a suitable spot with binoculars – it’s less than 50 metres from the bridge. I can see it with the naked eye. This perfectly illustrates the absurdity of a world that pretends to be authentic, but really only relies on minimal tension.