Better late than never!
Death Stranding, six years old now (note: this is a review of the original, not the recently released sequel), sat on the periphery of my must-play-at-some-point list since its release. I say periphery because I never actually purchased it, but always intended to. A friend bought it for me last Christmas and, besides wanting to check it out over the years, praise for the sequel helped push it to the forefront of my pile (and in a year of games that is the antithesis of any backlog, mind you). This game pushed me through a range of emotions that I wasn’t certain it would evoke, and the funny thing is, few of them had anything to do with the story. Let’s go through them a bit.
Emotion one: Frustration. It’s rare that I consider quitting a game. In fact, I’m a bit of a completionist. Giving up before finishing a game’s storyline is a rarity for me, and yet, there was one point early on when I considered doing just that. Here I am, ill-equipped to handle the world of
Death Stranding, I have my BB (Bridge Baby, or, a baby in an incubator that connects to my chest that can detect BTs (ghosts)), and I’m delivering a heavy cargo load to the Wind Farm up in the mountains. I’ve been careful, holding my breath whenever I’m near one of the BTs (again, ghosts), but somehow, I’m caught. I try to escape, but alas, I have too much cargo and the souls from the beach drag me down into the tar. The world sways as I’m dragged hither and thither, and suddenly I’m over a hundred meters away from my cargo and—is that… why yes it is—a tar-drenched whale breaches the surface, my BB is wailing, and I can’t soothe it because I am surrounded by ghosts and am literally being chased by a whale in the mountains. None of it makes any sense, and I’m trying to figure out how to get away from whatever is going on. I fall a few times, and the BTs are pulling at me. The BB is still crying (I detest the sound of whining or crying (or anything high-pitched for that matter)), and I am not only frustrated now, but the game has fueled my second emotion: Anxiety. Finally, I managed to get away, but now my BB has autotoxemia and won’t be able to help me scan for BTs on my way back. I get a message: my cargo has been destroyed. Perfect. I have to reload my save and do that entire area over again.
The opening hours of
Death Stranding are a chore. I understand the concept of learning to crawl before you can walk, but the game doesn’t do a terrific job of making you feel invested right away, so it feels like you’re scraping your knees on cement instead of learning to crawl on a plush carpet. The world, while giving the desolate feeling that it wants to evoke, doesn’t give one of character. It feels bland and incredibly unrealistic (albeit beautiful; graphics are nice—even for a six-year-old game). Lots of suspension of disbelief needed here to believe that this map is supposed to be what was once the United States of America. There are a few ruins here and there, but nothing makes the world feel like it is the remnant of a country once vast and opulent in some places, and criminally underfunded in others. It just feels like a big, empty open map. And while that definitely serves the gameplay, it doesn’t serve the worldbuilding and immersion. Sure, things were supposed to be wiped out when the Stranding occurred, with timefall (rain that ages anything it touches) aging everything to dust, but some things evaded destruction. The setting feels like an echo of what it could have been. I can appreciate it as a game world, but not as a replacement for the entire USA.
After the Wind Farm mission, I did something that I don’t think I’ve done before: I sought validation on the internet. I asked whether I was crazy or the game sucked. How did this game score well? Some folks said, “If you don’t like it now, you won’t like it at all,” and at that I felt a bit disheartened. But then some heroes said, “Get to Chapter 3. Just push on past the first area.” And so I did. Anyone who gives this game a chance and has a similar experience with the opening, I say push through to the third chapter. Don’t worry about what you’re missing in the first area; you can always come back—and with better tools.
The third emotion, Confusion, came into play when I entered the second area. The story was a bizarre rollercoaster of plot twists that didn’t always pay off, a main character whose motivations don’t seem to match his actions for 90% of the game, and side characters with really odd names (Fragile, Deadman, Heartman, Die-Hardman, Mama—What is his obsession with characters named Mama?). Norman Reedus was an interesting decision for the main character, not because he gives a poor-quality performance, but because he’s so recognizable, and the role of Sam Porter Bridges doesn’t push him to test his ability, it simply feels like you’re playing Norman Reedus from
The Walking Dead. This is a Kojima game through and through, so expect a weird story with weirder characters and some plot points that don’t always make sense, and you’ll be fine. The story comes together in the end, but not necessarily in a completely satisfying way.
But the fourth emotion I experienced—Appreciation—kicked in once the gameplay clicked with me and the world became this moldable map under my fingertips. The vision was clear, and the game had become addictive. I spent many nights thinking, “just one more delivery.” But that one turned into two, two turned into three, which turned into an invasion of a MULE camp, which turned into finding another place to connect to the UCA. I would get excited to find a lost piece of cargo for the connection I wanted to level up with and think, “It’s only a few minutes away; let me just bring it to them real quick.” The game has a distinct quality of making you feel you are, in fact, a very important deliveryman trying to connect a once great country (even if the map doesn’t seem like one was really there in the first place).
The gameplay is unique in some senses, familiar in others. At its core, it has basic third-person shooter controls. You get weaponry to dispatch enemies, both of the living and dead variety, and can use stealth to get the job done (though not as intricate as
Metal Gear Solid V, the mechanics work well). The uniqueness comes from the delivery aspect of the game. As a porter, it is Sam’s job not only to deliver cargo, but to ensure it remains intact and with as minor damage done as possible. Sometimes, a delivery has a time limit. Sam can only carry up to a certain weight limit before he is over-encumbered, so it’s up to the player to ensure that they don’t exceed what they can manage. Not only is weight a factor, but so too is the height of the cargo. Too high or heavy, and the cargo pile will tilt left or right, and the player has to ensure Sam remains upright or the whole thing may topple over. Easy enough on flat terrain, but once you enter the rougher areas, rushing through is a big no-no. This game induces anxiety like almost nothing else. Watching as my cargo washed away downriver because I mismanaged my energy made me laugh (only after frantically doing everything I could to recover it all). In
Death Stranding, if you fail big, you usually only have yourself to blame. And biting off more than you can chew, even when you are familiar with the rules of the game, is incredibly tempting.
As new tools unlock, the game becomes more pliable and the vision for the “stranding” genre unfolds. When you place a tool in the game’s world (for instance, a generator that charges all your batteries—especially vehicles), other players who share your lobby also get that in their game world. When you help yourself in this game, you help others, and vice versa. Every time I set up a system that made the world more traversable, I had hoped that it would make it into other people’s worlds. It was enjoyable to see my hard work pay off, and, in the end, I could get around a map—that provided many initial challenges—with ease. The puzzles in
Death Stranding aren’t ones you’d find in a
Legend of Zelda game. No, the puzzle here is how to make the best use of your tools and the surrounding landscape. As I bent the world to my will—helping not only myself, but others—as I made the premium-timed deliveries with minutes to spare, my cargo perfectly intact, there’s so much satisfaction that I almost forgot about that time that my cargo was destroyed because I was surrounded by ghosts while carrying a crying baby to a Wind Farm in the mountains while a whale chased me.
Almost.
I know Kojima’s story and characters won’t be for everyone. This is a man with an odd vision who now has full control over his work. I felt at many points that the game would have been served well by some higher-up saying, “This is stupid. Did you add it because you thought it sounded cool? It doesn’t.” Or, “Did you just randomly think of it this morning? It doesn’t fit, cut it.” Despite some misfiring in the story and a sometimes cumbersome UI, the soundtrack does well to echo the vibe of the game and put the player in the mood to make some more deliveries. The emptiness and desolation play into Low Roar’s hands.
I know the first few paragraphs came off quite negative—and well they should.
Death Stranding had an abysmal start. You shouldn’t have to push through to get to the good part (especially when pushing through takes 6+ hours). When the game gets going, you can experience something unique on a AAA scale. Most games that innovate nowadays lie firmly in the indie camp, so this was a breath of fresh air. It’s not perfect, but despite my misgivings, it is quite good and worth exploring if you want something experimental and that does what it sets out to do (mostly). Despite my confusion regarding the end of the story, I still find myself eager to play the next entry. More deliveries? Yes, please.
The Math
Objective Assessment: 7.5/10.
Bonus: +1 for unique gameplay. +1 for addictive, yet at times relaxing, gameplay loop.
Penalties: ‒1 for opening hours. ‒1 for story misfires.
Nerd Coefficient: 7.5/10.
Posted by: Joe DelFranco - Fiction writer and lover of most things video games. On most days you can find him writing at his favorite spot in the little state of Rhode Island.
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