Death Stranding is Kojima unleashed, and it’s as weird as you’d expect

Death Stranding is Hideo Kojima unleashed.

That sentence carries a lot of weight in the video game universe, where solid personal branding and marketing across decades of Metal Gear titles means Kojima ranks as one of the rare game auteurs players actually know by name. And as much as Kojima used the Metal Gear games to defy both narrative and gameplay conventions, the series still represented a stealth-action box that Kojima found himself straining against over and over again.

Death Stranding once again stands as a bold subversion of expectations from a creator known best for leaning into action heroics. For the vast majority of the game, your protagonist is not a Solid Snake-style hard-bitten action hero. He’s just a guy carrying a comically overloaded backpack across a lot of empty space, focused on a simple but necessary job, for better or worse.

Death Stranding is Kojima’s escape, not just from Metal Gear’s cardboard box but also from the restrictions and recriminations of his former corporate parent Konami. That means the new game lets Kojima take some bold risks, experimenting with gameplay systems that are somehow utterly isolating and deeply connected to other players at the same time. It also means this is Kojima at his most self-indulgent, with a bloated, convoluted mess of a sci-fi story that’s heavy on complication and light on relatable human moments.

Death what-ing?

It’s the near future, and America as it once was has been ravaged by a mysterious event referred to as the Death Stranding. For some reason, the barrier between the world of the living and the dead has been weakened, causing ethereal, usually-invisible-to-most creatures called BTs to roam the Earth. When a BT consumes a dead body, it causes a voidout that utterly destroys everything for a miles-wide radius.

As if that wasn’t enough, BTs surround themselves with timefall, a form of rain that speeds up the flow of time significantly. Years of this timefall has destroyed the communications and transportation infrastructure that used to bind America together across its cities and towns. What remains of the US populace is holed up in remote, disconnected cities called KNOTs, where the populace cowers in fear, dependent on outside deliveries from brave couriers who can withstand the timefall and BTs.

Kojima knows how to frame a memorable shot, I’ll give him that.

Kojima knows how to frame a memorable shot, I’ll give him that.

One of the many cringe-worthy gamer in-jokes in Death Stranding.

One of the many cringe-worthy gamer in-jokes in Death Stranding.

All right, I’ll restore America, just please get back in bed!

All right, I’ll restore America, just please get back in bed!

One of the many cringe-worthy gamer in-jokes in Death Stranding.

All right, I’ll restore America, just please get back in bed!

These guys look much more menacing than they actually are.

Just a day at the beach.

The camera’s gaze has a way of falling on Normal Reedus’ half-naked digital body like this a lot…

That’s not a bad setup for a new post-apocalyptic universe, all in all. But Kojima can’t leave well enough alone, weighing down this somewhat solid premise with layer after layer of overcomplicated, semi-mystical sci-fi dreck. Simply explaining what’s going on practically requires consulting a glossary of new and bewildering terms.

There are the stillborn bridge babies (BBs) that can let a human sense BTs when they’re connected through a sort of external womb. Except there are also some people who can inherently sense and/or control BTs through a power known as DOOMS (I never really figured out what this acronym stands for). And there are also some people who come back to life after they die, called repatriates, and their blood is apparently toxic to BTs.

Then there are the Beaches, the mystical, personal planes that connect the world of the living and the dead. Everyone has their own private Beach, but they’re also all connected by personal and inanimate relationships, you see. Also some people can go back and forth to different Beaches with little effort. And sometimes people’s souls can be trapped on their Beach, ageless, even if their bodies stay in the real world. Got it?

I’m not going to further belabor this review by explaining cryptobiotes, chiralium, the q-pid necklace, or any of the other new concepts that get thrown at the player with abandon throughout the game. Don’t worry, though, the game takes enormous pains to explain all of this and more in long, discursive cut scenes that go into excruciating detail about how all of these complications work.

I’d estimate at least half of the game’s story scenes are taken up by deep-in-the-weeds theorizing about the history of the Death Stranding, or the metaphysical properties of BBs, or some other esoteric minutiae that doesn’t really affect anything. It’s as if Kojima barfed up an encyclopedia of background material for his apocalyptic fanfic before worrying if anyone was interested in the original story.

Despite all that explaining, the world of Death Stranding never feels cohesive. There’s a strong sense that the writers are making this up as they go, forming a patchwork quilt of scientific-sounding magic that holds together only if you don’t look at it too closely. Even in the run-up to the game’s conclusion, characters are still introducing entirely new theoretical concepts that seem to come completely out of nowhere. Meanwhile, bits that are obviously intended to serve as mysterious twists fall flat thanks to horrible telegraphing and seemingly clueless characters.

Without spoiling anything, I’ll note that Death Stranding’s ending is more or less a two-hour cut scene that tries to explain how the preceding 30+ hours are actually supposed to fit together… yet I still came away scratching my head about what the hell happened.

Help me, Sam Kenobi, you’re my only hope

Into this whole mess drops Sam Porter, a stoic and largely blank-slate courier who serves as the player avatar (we’ll get to talking about the gameplay soon, I swear). Sam can sense BTs and “repatriate” if he dies, so the dying president of the United States begs him to crisscross the country connecting cities in an Internet, but also magic, chiral network called the United Cities of America. Also, if he could deliver some packages along the way and save the president’s daughter who has been captured by terrorists on the West Coast, that would be grand. Thanks!

While the game goes deep on its mystical technobabble, it seems remarkably unconcerned with the interesting questions of how society or government actually functions in this post-apocalyptic world. There’s a president, but she seems to serve as a cult-of-personality totem more than a real leader with power. We never get to see inside these shining KNOTs on a hill, which somehow seem able to operate with some extremely advanced technology despite the destruction of all existing infrastructure. We also don’t get to see inside the homes of the scattered preppers who somehow rode out the post-Death Stranding world outside of the KNOTs.

Just your average delivery man out to save the post-apocalyptic world.

Just your average delivery man out to save the post-apocalyptic world.

Who’s gonna go out and be the best courier he can be today? YOU ARE!

Who’s gonna go out and be the best courier he can be today? YOU ARE!

Born to be wiiiiiiiiiild.

Born to be wiiiiiiiiiild.

Who’s gonna go out and be the best courier he can be today? YOU ARE!

Born to be wiiiiiiiiiild.

Scanning the nearby area with BB’s AR ping is a pretty neat effect that never gets old.

Kojima solves the “invisible wall” problem by creating a visible AR wall that you can’t get past. Sure, why not.

Beats a desk job.

Eh, it’s a living.

Instead of holding up a twisted mirror to society, Kojima uses his sci-fi future as a means to let his characters pontificate in extremely direct and unsubtle grand philosophical statements, full of dramatic imagery and botched attempts at symbolism (and occasional memorable imagery). Most of these focus on the need for human connection, a blunt “we live in a society” statement writ large.

“If we don’t come together again, humanity will not survive,” the president says in one characteristically unsubtle statement of the game’s core thesis. “Humans aren’t made to be alone,” another character says at one point, as if it was the most profound thing in the world. “They’re supposed to come together. To help one another.”

The voice and motion capture cast does its best to give this material some life, soldiering on through countless “tell don’t show” diatribes that often focus on their characters’ own out-of-nowhere sci-fi powers. But there’s very little real human drama for the cast to hang their hats on; they’re dealing with an excess of unnatural dialogue to fight through. When the game does attempt to dive into a character’s backstory or motivations, the result is almost always ridiculously overwrought, complete with swelling musical cues that try their best to evoke utterly unearned emotion through ridiculous circumstance.

If you don’t think about it too hard, perhaps you can let the contrived pseudoscientific theories, pop philosophy, and overly direct symbolism wash over you. But if you’re hoping for a coherent, well-told plot full of relatable characters, you have to look elsewhere.

I took a walk

To fulfill the president’s dying wish, Sam spends the bulk of Death Stranding trudging across the vast empty spaces between America’s remaining cities, delivering packages and connecting sites to the chiral network. And I do mean trudging. Frequently, you’ll spend upwards of 10, 20, 30-plus minutes walking alone from point A to point B (and, quite often, right back to point A afterward).

And these aren’t Red Dead Redemption-style relaxing moseys, full of quality music and conversation to pass the time. Instead, in Death Stranding, they’re long, lonely stretches devoid of any other virtual soul or even any background music (though when the game does drop some original, ethereal music to highlight a key checkpoint, it’s uniformly excellent). You do eventually get access to vehicles and other items that help speed up the trip, but they’re only usable while their electricity and the clear terrain allow. Otherwise, it’s just another slow slog from place to place.

To be sure, it can be a beautiful slog. Death Stranding’s environmental designers have taken the excellent Horizon: Zero Dawn rendering engine and used it to create a stunningly rich world where every few minutes seems to grant an entirely new vista showing the hauntingly beautiful, amazingly naturalistic view of the devastation. This filters all the way down to Sam’s walking and running animations, which handle the rough terrain with a level of detail and accuracy that has to be seen in motion to be fully appreciated.

3D printing has really improved in the last few years.

3D printing has really improved in the last few years.

Falling down in a river means dropping all your items. Chasing them down can provide some great slapstick comedy.

Falling down in a river means dropping all your items. Chasing them down can provide some great slapstick comedy.

It’s hard to gauge the precise location of the ethereal and usually invisible BTs.

It’s hard to gauge the precise location of the ethereal and usually invisible BTs.

Falling down in a river means dropping all your items. Chasing them down can provide some great slapstick comedy.

It’s hard to gauge the precise location of the ethereal and usually invisible BTs.

These kinds of views are almost worth the price of admission on their own.

A fully loaded backpack looks pretty ridiculous.

If my backpack were just a little taller, this hiding place would not work.

Thanks, random strangers, for giving me the highway necessary to avoid the most dreadful drudgery the game has to offer.

Keeping your balance across that terrain actually becomes one of the game’s core foci during these lengthy walks. Sam will trip and fall if you run too fast over boulder-strewn ground, slip down if you try to climb a slick vertical slope, and slide off his feet completely if you try to ford a river that’s too deep and fast. Using the shoulder buttons and analog stick to maintain Sam’s equanimity is essential, as is finding the flattest and least rubble-strewn path through the devastation. After a while, it makes you realize how much you take easy locomotion for granted in other games (and in real life, after a long play session—how do legs work, anyway?).

Death Stranding also focuses an amazing but ultimately unfulfilling level of simulation detail on micromanagement of Sam’s condition. You have to actively maintain everything from Sam’s stamina and endurance to the wear on his shoes, the fullness of his bladder, and the stress level of the attached BB. The condition of your parcels is also important, so you’d better pack some magical repair spray to keep them in top shape. Managing all this isn’t so much difficult as it is annoying, a description that also serves for a good deal of the game.

Get out of my way

There are only two serious external hazards that occasionally interrupt the gentle, man-vs-nature reverie of Sam’s endless hikes. The first is the presence of BTs in the area, indicated by a rainstorm and the frantic pinging of an antenna connected to your umbilical BB.

These sections reach back a little into Kojima’s Metal Gear Solid roots, requiring Sam to sneak through without disturbing the floating BTs by getting too loud or too close. But there’s no radar to monitor or barriers to hide behind. Instead, you simply reveal the BT’s position with a pulse of BB energy, then steer clear as best as possible.

If you do accidentally make noise too close to a BT and get caught (which is all too easy, given their ethereal and temporary appearance), it’s more of an annoyance than the dire horror that you’d expect. In most cases, a few tar-black zombies emerge from the ground and claw at Sam, only requiring some button mashing and slow walking to escape their radius. From there, you pick up any dropped cargo and continue on your slow way.

The second major hazard on Sam’s perpetual Sunday stroll is MULEs, members of a literal cargo cult that has developed a psychopathic desire to deliver packages (don’t get me started on the half-baked “the end of work” pseudo-psychology the game uses to justify this cult’s existence). If you raise the alarm at a MULE camp, a handful of these psychotic delivery thieves will converge on Sam’s position, driven by a mad lust for cargo, cargo, cargo.

Being forced into combat with these MULEs is once again more of an annoyance than an engaging challenge. Jamming on the punch button in enough to knock out a single MULE while his companions usually look on, dumbfounded, maybe hurling in an occasional easily avoided electric javelin to try to shock you. You can also use non-lethal weapons on the MULEs, but the controls and camera perspective are so clunky that it’s barely worth it.

Unfortunately, there are a few lengthy sections of the game where it forces you into live firefights. The rough controls and camera make these sections feel like a pale imitation of a better third-person shooter. It’s as if Kojima shoehorned these sequences in out of a sense of obligation rather than for any real gameplay purpose.

Better together

While Death Stranding is strictly a single-player game, it’s best played with an online connection. Signing in to the game’s network lets you work together with other players in a sort of parallel play where everyone can work together toward common goals. That can be as simple as laying down a ladder or rope to help others across a cliff or as elaborate as collectively gathering materials for a roadway paver that lets everyone speed through otherwise treacherous terrain.

Playing online means shelters, safehouses, excess items, and misplaced parcel deliveries that can all be shared automatically between players on a randomized online shard. It also means the map fills with virtual signposts and holograms left by other players—in my playthrough, these were dominated by a thumbs up and a quick “keep on keeping on” voice clip.

This inter-player economy of cooperation is driven by a voluntary system of Facebook-style “Likes” that you can drop on other players when you interact with their items and signs in your world. Accumulating Likes increases capabilities like balance and endurance, encouraging players not to leech off the goodwill of others. And while you can get Likes from standard single-player missions, the quantity pales in comparison to the bounty available from other humans if you do your part.

There is something very cathartic about using a player-donated motortrike to cruise down a team-built highway after you spent four times as long trudging the same path without sufficient online help. In much the same way, it’s cathartic when someone stops you from banging your head against the wall, and you realize it feels so good when you stop. But I also can’t help but think of the poor player who has to play the game offline (either today or in many years, once Sony inevitably shuts off the servers) and is stuck facing Death Stranding’s vast expanses all alone.

The whole online system serves as an effective meta-textual commentary on the game’s thesis on human connection and the power of cooperation—a much better commentary, in fact, then any of the game’s actual text. Playing Death Stranding online is like playing the world’s chillest MMO, where there’s no griefing, no annoying public chat, and no need to actively organize or communicate with other players at all. Like life, Death Stranding becomes much less of a tedious, repetitive grind if you have other people to help you through.

I don’t know what we were expecting…

Death Stranding is definitely a game that stands out from the crowd, but on balance, I’m not sure it stands out for good reasons.

There’s an almost zen-like satisfaction to mapping out the most efficient route across those huge expanses, maintaining your lonely pilgrimage across the desolate remains of what was once a great country. It’s the same simple joy you would find on a hike through a beautiful park or up a mountain trail.

Then again, the repetitive deliveries can just as often feel like drudgery or even busywork. Most open-world games of this type offer the player the ability to escape their everyday lives with easy-to-use superpowers and high-stakes challenges utterly unlike their workaday lives. Death Stranding stands proudly against this trend towards escapism, asking you to instead inhabit the life of an Amazon Prime delivery driver who often has to work without a van on account of the apocalypse.

Upon making a delivery in the game, one recipient even remarks: “I can’t imagine what a chore that must have been,” which almost puts too fine a point on it.

As I played Death Stranding, I kept going back in my mind to my time with Breath of the Wild. Though the characters and storylines in the games couldn’t be more different, both titles revel in slow trips through wide-open empty spaces filled with beautiful vistas. Both also subvert the previous expectations set by their creators, and these games require more attention than normal to endurance meters in order to get across the difficult terrain.