death stranding review: a flawed masterpiece that dared to be different
platform: pc
hours played: 52
Some games are hard to describe because they feature complex narratives and themes that second-hand descriptions won't do proper justice to. Other games are hard to describe because their mechanics and gameplay loops don't fit inside of the box that defines the experiences of many of today's titles. And some games are hard to describe simply because they, as a whole, have left you speechless. Death Stranding is all of these things -- a flawed masterpiece that confidently and unapologetically aims to be something you've never experienced before. Its story about human connection, while at times told through unevenly paced lore dumps, is a thoughtful and deep commentary on today's society that left me pondering my own life after rolling credits. On the surface, the core gameplay consists of delivering packages, but beneath is a playing experience that is equal parts meditative and rewarding and equal parts terrifying -- all wrapped up in an atmosphere of melancholic optimism that helplessly immersed me in its post apocalyptic world. To me, Death Stranding feels like Hideo Kojima's uncompromising vision, and in this review, I'll share my thoughts on the heights and pitfalls of that vision.
A Story Of Human Connection
What does it mean to be connected to our fellow humans? What does it mean to make the most of the time we're given to live our lives? These are the questions and themes that Hideo Kojima approaches in this game -- in some instances with brilliant thoughtfulness and others with what feels like rushed, uneven pacing. In Death Stranding, you play as Sam Porter Bridges, a silent courier protagonist who is tasked with reconnecting America to the Chiral Network after an apocalyptic event forces the population into separation and hiding. In his journey to reconnect everyone and everything, Sam experiences many traumatic events. However, the interesting thing about playing as Sam is that these events never feel like they're happening to him, rather, they feel as if they are moving through him. To that end, Sam is like a blank canvas -- one that all of the surrounding characters use to project their hopes, dreams, and fears onto. As a result, when these events move through him, I am able to feel them on a profoundly deep level as the player. This however, is a double edged sword, as I sometimes felt Sam's silent nature made him feel like too much of a passerby to the events happening around him.
For example, midway through the game, BB-28, your travel companion, reaches a point where they need servicing. Sam has clearly developed a bond with BB-28, but hardly puts up a fight when Heartman reveals that the operation needed to fix them may have a lasting impact on their newly formed relationship. As the player, I felt a desire to try and convince Heartman that there must have been another way to solve this issue -- anything to prevent the bond between BB-28 and I from being severed. Yet, in the game, Sam's silent, stoic nature makes this interaction seem much less significant than it really is. Where some interactions seemed to miss the emotional mark due to Sam's overly silent nature, Kojima more than makes up for it in other thoughtful and creative ways.
The Death Stranding has left the people of America separated and hunkered down in shelters to keep safe from the numerous natural anomalies born from it. As you make your host of deliveries, most of the time, you'll only ever be greeted by a hologram of the shelter's inhabitants, but never the inhabitants themselevs in person. But there are a handful of special occasions where the inhabitants will emerge to greet you in person -- like during the Chiral Artist mission. This delivery saga sees you reconnecting two lost lovers separated by events of the Death Stranding. The impact of these two characters emerging from their shelters to embrace each other in person was deeply emotional, and made me further appreciate the value of real human connection -- something the game gives you few opportunities to experience. And that's where the connection between making deliveries and the story's theme of human connection come together. In some cases, you're delivering medical supplies to a city working desperately to keep its citizens alive. Other times, you're delivering lost valuables such as old magazines, movies, and other things that may seem trivial in the face of an apocalypse, but ultimately result in the strengthening of precious human connection.
If you opt to enable online play, you'll gain access to structures built by other players such as bridges, ladders, and even safehouses. If you as the player feel ike that structure has helped you in your journey, then you can send a like, which the player who built the structure will receive in real time while they themselves are playing the game. This system of connecting with other players through the bread crumbs of shared support structures is a brilliant fourth wall breaking design decision. It very much mirrors the feeling of liking a friend's post on social media, where you know you've reached that person digitally on the other side, but not so in regards to actual human contact. So, how do these themes actually carry over into the narrative?
Overall, I really enjoyed the story Death Stranding was trying to tell. From Sam's one man journey to reconnect the country, to the heinous motives of the game's titular villain, Higgs, to keep it all from happening, and everyone in between, every character's unique connection to the Death Stranding results in a story packed with emotional twists and turns. Additionally, the emotional impact of the story is supported by some of the best facial capture I've ever seen. For example, when Fragile puts herself in a vulnerable state to explain her connection to Higgs, I could truly feel the weight of her pain, and was thusly just as motivated as her to take him down. Unfortunately, however impacted I was by the narrative itself, I felt the actual pacing of that narrative could have been handled better.
Without spoiling anything, the story feels pretty evenly paced throughout the majority of its "episodes". However, when you reach the game's later episodes, it begins ramping up the pace of its lore and exposition dumps to a perplexing degree. There are certain points during the back half of the game where entire backstories of certain characters are crammed into singular conversations -- some of which happen via telecommunication rather than in cutscenes. I can certainly understand that certain twists needed to be properly placed to provide the intended impact, but having those twists occur while pairing them with heavy amounts of exposition, and in some cases occurring while you're trying to make a delivery felt dizzying. I'm all for a story becoming more and more complex as it goes on, but moving through the story would have felt smoother had that exposition been paced more evenly.
gameplay - more than a walking simulator
It isn't the act of delivering in Death Stranding that I'm addicted to, it's the journey and everything that comes along with it. What makes these journeys unique, and more than the "walking simulator" tag this game has earned on the surface? Each journey can range from a meditative experience that can well and truly put you in a relaxed state, to a challenging puzzle yielding satisfying payoff for your diligence, all underpinned by the threat of BT's -- the terrifying otherworldly monster-like entities constantly waiting in the wings to derail your attempt at a successful delivery.
If you removed Death Stranding's story and kept the delivery gameplay and all of its systems, I could see this being a game I could play for hundreds of hours. I'm not trying to say that I don't enjoy the story, because I very much do, but the delivery gameplay is just that fun to me. The vast majority of my play through of this game consisted of me kicking back, turning on a podcast, grabbing some snacks, and relaxing my way through the delivery journey. In other instances, I would opt to to give my undivided attention to the journey, allowing myself to enter a flow state complimented by the repetitive sounds of Sam's foot steps, or the sound of the wind whistling by me as I slowly make my way across the landscape. Then, just as I would find myself locked into the beautiful silence of it all, a perfectly placed liscened soundtrack would softly enter the soundscape, gently altering my flow state into a deeper level of immersion. In some instances, these tracks que in during specific moments, like when you discover a breathtaking vista for the first time. Other times, they'll chime in randomly, perhaps halfway through a long journey from one distribution center to another as if to act as the wind benethe your feet to keep you going. Each track is expertly curated to create a sonic picture of the melancholic atmosphere of the world. It's in these moments, where the deep flow state meets the perfect timing of a carefully selected track does the journey being to wrap itself within your emotions, and you yourself become one with the journey. Many times I thought to myself, I could do this all day, every day, for a very long time.
So, that was the meditative side of the experience, but what about the nitty gritty of the gameplay itself? Making a delivery isn't just about getting from point A to point B, it's about managing your cargo, making sure you aren't carrying too much, making sure you have the RIGHT equipment for the journey, and more. These choices can, in most cases, be the difference between a smooth journey and one full of trial and tribulation. Successfully dapting to the varying requirements of each delivery feels immensly satisfying and quickly became a challenge I enjoyed overcoming. What's even more satisfying is figuring out ways to use the terrain to your advantage to make what would have been a difficult journey a trivial challenge.
There's a point in the game where you transition from the initial grassland area to snow capped mountains. Not only are the snow capped mountains plagued with constant timefall snow, which deteriorates your cargo with each snowflake that lands on it, the terrain itself is much harder to traverse on foot or even with a vehicle. To overcome this challenge, I spent a handful of gameplay sessions creating a zipline route that I could use to glide across the entire mountain range quickly and easily. By placing a zipline at every base in the region and connecting them to other ziplines located on high up peaks, I was able to turn treacherous journeys into easy trips through the air. Making these kinds of discoveries and executing on them as you see fit is incredibly fun and satisfying, and a part of the gameplay loop I became obsessed with.
Imagine this. You're 25 minutes into a delivery. Everything has gone smoothly. BB is happy, Sam is happy, and one of Kojima's tastefully selected soundtracks kicks in to put you in an ultra-relaxed mood. Then out of nowhere, timefall rain begins to fall, the game stops you in your tracks, and your BT sensor (a sensor that tracks the presence of Beached Things, souls that are trapped between the world of the living and the dead) begins to signal danger. As you continue to roll on, you suddenly find yourself trapped in a large puddle of black fluid with bodies covered in a tar like substance grabbing at you attempting to pull you under. If you can't escape their grasp, you're dragged 20-30 feet from all your cargo, and suddenly an enormous tar covered monster emerges and begins to chase you down. The only way to escape is by trudging out of the tar and back onto normal land, except in these sequences, Sam's movement speed is significantly slowed due to the density of the substance, increasing the anxiety of the situation. What I've described here an event that can happen at any time during any delivery. So while the journey can be a fun, meditative, and rewarding experience, the threat of a BT attack is always lingering, adding a layer of tension to every step you take towards your destination.
The Verdict
I mentioned at the beginning of the review that some games are hard to describe because of their complex themes, out of the ordinary gameplay loops, or their ability to leave you speechless as the credits roll. If a friend asks me to describe this game to them, I COULD tell them that it's a game about delivering packages wrapped up in a story about a guy trying to reconnect America. But that description wouldn't do justice to the extraordinary lengths it goes to to be an experience that dares to be different. Dares to unapologetically comment on how we choose to connect with our fellow humans. Dares to challenge the player's patience by having them literally and figuratively experience each and every step of the journey. Where so many of today’s games are about the goal, or the destination, Death Stranding dares to be a game about the journey. And while the narrative that pulls you through that journey is sometimes paced at perplexing speeds, it’s one that if you allow yourself to be immersed in it, then it might just touch your heart. This game is unabashedly weird, complex, heartwrenching, quirky, and so many more things that define a truly novel experience in today's gaming landscape. I look forward to seeing how this saga unfolds in Death Stranding 2: On The Beach -- because while I'm certainly looking forward to making more deliveries, I wrapped this experience unable to fathom how the Death Stranding experience could evolve, and I mean that in the best way possible.