Ghost of Tsushima Review

A Blade Sharpened By The Wind .

Read Time 12 minutes

When your home is on the verge of being taken by force, sometimes you can't help but recklessly charge into a bloodthirsty army and hope for the best, even though the outcome of the battle is already decided before you even draw your sword. And just like that, Ghost of Tsushima starts at the edge of catastrophe, with Tsushima Island standing as the lone barrier between feudal Japan and a massive Mongol invasion seeking to conquer the land of the rising sun, and maybe the whole world if time permits.

Set during the Kamakura period of Japan in 1274, you take control of Jin Sakai, a fierce samurai noble born into a strict code of honor whose world is shattered in a single night following a desperate battle to slow the enemy's advance. The opening launches you headfirst into a perhaps-too-brave last stand against an overwhelming force of savages—the sea is filled with warships, the entire country is engulfed in a raging war, and your men are falling one by one, with you completely unable to stop the treachery. After surviving the battle by a miracle, you wake up with your mortal wounds healed but your spirit unbroken, and your role now is to gather your strength and devise a plan to rescue your uncle, a master samurai, from the clutches of the enemy and ultimately liberate Tsushima and its people before it is too late.

From the very first moments, there are flames coating the horizon, the moon-lit sky disturbed by shouting in a strange language, with the winds carrying a sense that tradition alone won't be enough to hold back the tide this time around. It's a story about the death of one way of life and the birth of another, whether the inhabitants of Tsushima are ready to embrace what it takes to survive or not. What makes this setup so awesome and compelling is that beneath the historical events and tales of bloodshed across once-peaceful fields lies a complex story about wrestling with pride, identity, and the very definition of honor itself.

The Mongol leader and main antagonist, Khotun Khan, is a calculating manipulator whose arrival laid bare the weakness of the Japanese culture through despicable actions meant to shatter any will to resist. This blazing introduction fractures the samurai ideals from the inside out, forcing Jin to confront the uncomfortable reality that noble traditions can't always stop ruthless pragmatism, and that dire situations require more than mere goodwill to overcome.

The island itself is a canvas painted with quiet tragedy and fleeting beauty, where every gust of wind leaves little room for mistaking the scale of the storm you've voluntarily stepped into. Your allies are scattered, your clan decimated, your methods questioned at every turn, accompanied by the push to adapt before everything collapses. It begins as a classic revenge quest but quickly grows into something a lot deeper than expected, showing what happens when one man decides to bend the rules to fight on his own terms. This is where Ghost of Tsushima distinguishes itself, framing its conflict over a historical background as more than a slow-burning struggle for survival.

By the time you've felt the breeze of the wind touch your face, soaked in the atmosphere, and seen the stakes at hand, it becomes wholly evident that so much was lost, but despite all of that, Tsushima still feels like a place worth fighting for, even if the journey ahead won't be an easy one. That's to say, this isn't just another open-world action game but rather a meticulously crafted war drama masquerading as a samurai tale, and the foundation it lays in these opening hours sets the stage for a journey that's both intimate and grand, where the sword you carry is just as heavy as the burden placed on your shoulders.

Developer: Sucker Punch

Publisher: Sony Interactive

Release Date: July 17, 2020

Platforms: PS5, PS4, PC

Genre: Open World, Adventure, Action

Buy ( -33% OFF )

Buying the game from the link above is a great way to support the site.

A World That Teaches You to Listen: A Land of Silent Resolve .

Once the dust of the opening battle drifts away, Tsushima reveals its true rhythm, trading bombastic spectacle for a world that teaches you how to read it through subtle cues instead of numerous waypoints and flashing icons. Going over the basics, the first thing you'll notice is that the environment itself moves to guide your step, with the wind literally pointing the way towards objectives, villagers you meet whispering rumors that lead you to hidden quests and special locations, golden birds draw your attention to secrets, and distant plumes of smoke tempt your curiosity.

It's a kind of environmental communication that makes you pay closer attention to the world around you, rather than fight against an intrusive UI like it's all too common nowadays, giving exploration a sense of natural flow that many open worlds fail to capture. The genius of this system is that you're not being led by the nose like a string puppet, with this guidance system striking a rare balance that never feels forced or artificial, quietly pulling you forward and letting curiosity be the compass. Similarly, combat, exploration, character growth, and narrative beats are all built the same way, designed to keep players anchored to the island itself rather than endless menus or distracting pop-ups.

Truth be told, Ghost of Tsushima is the kind of game where you'll end up spending more time admiring the nature's ambience, composing haikus at scenic lookouts, and bathing in hot springs under maple trees to raise your max health than worrying about what to do next—a level of immersion that makes fast-traveling feel like cheating yourself out of such a marvellous experience. In that sense, horseback travel feels quite great for its intended purpose of, you know, getting around, but unfortunately, I must say that the horse never really evolves into anything beyond that, serving purely as a reliable means of transportation and mongol-trampling-machine, but that's honestly all it needed to be anyways.

And beyond the scenic allure, the game shows an interesting knack for using its world to establish a strong emotional and narrative undercurrent. From burnt-out villages with corpses littering the streets to scarred communities where life still continues under the shadow of occupation, the aftermath of battles lingers everywhere, with remnants of a culture that's been brutalized but not yet broken — the world never stops reflecting the conflict, which makes even quiet moments hum with unspoken tension.

A living, breathing canvas painted with quiet tragedy and fleeting beauty, where every gust of wind leaves little room for mistaking the scale of the storm you've willingly stepped into.

After the electrifying prologue, the game settles into a slower, more meditative rhythm. It's a somewhat abrupt tonal shift, and for some, this shift is refreshing, giving space to breathe, to take in the land and reflect on Jin's transformation, but for others, it might feel like the momentum dips a bit too sharply, especially if you rush through the story without embracing the game's quieter moments, which are where lots of the real enjoyment come from. Personally, I found this rhythm quite fitting, as it mirrors Jin's steady evolution, where patience and observation often speak louder than the sword.

Where Ghost of Tsushima really impresses, though, is in how its systems are arranged to encourage player involvement without forcing things down our throat. Pretty much every mechanic can be ignored if you wish, but one way or another they all feed into a cohesive loop that rewards engagement the more you're willing to embrace all of its features. This flexibility gives players room to shape their journey without feeling punished for trying out an unconventional playstyle.

That said, the game's world-building and core systems aren't entirely flawless, highlighting that the game isn't immune to common genre pitfalls. For instance, a few examples of moments where the illusion becomes apparent are things like NPC behaviors looping unnaturally, controls and movement that feel stiff sometimes, and scripted events that repeat often enough that they start to feel recycled. Aside from that, some of the side content can lean into formulaic patterns that contrast with the elegance of the main journey, and even exploration becomes stale after a while, not always yielding good rewards, with a few too many activities paying out in forgettable collectibles or basic crafting materials.

In spite of that, what's clear is that beneath the surface-level allure of its samurai fantasy, Ghost of Tsushima is built with the restraint to let itself be felt rather than shouting for attention. It doesn't reinvent the wheel, but it polishes it to a mirror shine in places, then leaves a few scuffs untouched elsewhere, those imperfections giving it much-needed texture. As the journey unfolds, these small nuances become the lens through which the game turns into a remarkably cohesive and atmospheric experience that lingers long after you sheathe your blade.

A Ghost-like Menace Forged in Steel: Cut Out From Honor's Cloth .

Despite first impressions, wielding a katana and looking cool while slicing enemies in half like you're Fruit Ninja isn't all there is to do in Ghost of Tsushima. Every encounter plays out like a tense gamble with your life on the line, where hesitation costs blood and overconfidence earns you a quick trip back to your last checkpoint. What initially seems like a straightforward hack-and-slash quickly reveals itself as a complex, coordinated dance where every strike matters. Combat is snappy and smooth, with fluid and realistic attack animations selling a convincing fantasy of being a trained warrior, not some amateur swinging a pointy stick and hoping for the best.

With that in mind, the game builds its foundation on a combat system that strikes a measured balance between accessibility and intensity, with timing, spacing, and adaptability dictating your success as opposed to frantic button-mashing. In that vein, the core of the swordplay lies in the stance mechanics, as Jin can seamlessly switch between different attack patterns, each tailored to counter certain enemy types, where instead of constantly swapping weapons, you deepen your understanding of a single pair of blades, evolving its techniques over time. Each stance has its quirks—some excel at breaking shields, others at disrupting spear thrusts—and mastering their flow is as much about reading your opponents as it is about raw reflexes.

It's a subtle but effective way to keep combat engaging across dozens of hours, where instead of relying on a massive weapon variety, the game deepens the utility of its signature weapons through evolving techniques, encouraging you to read enemy groups and adapt on the fly. As battles grow larger and more chaotic, switching stances mid-fight becomes second nature, allowing you to carve through waves of Mongol soldiers with methodical precision. It's one of the game's smartest systems—lean, purposeful, and rewarding mastery without drowning you with unnecessary clutter.

Then on top of that, there's the standoff mechanic, arguably the game's most anime-like feature. Before many encounters, you can challenge enemies out for a one-on-one strike that rewards patience and timing with a devastating opening advantage. Later upgrades turn them into sequential takedowns where you can dispatch multiple foes in a chain of stylish, lethal single-slashes, with the tradeoff that if you fail you'll be on the receiving end of that exchange. But of course, the game doesn't lock you into the rigid box of traditional dueling—as the story progresses, Jin's arsenal expands beyond traditional swordsmanship, mirroring his moral evolution as he strays from the rigid samurai code, allowing players to lean into a more shadow-driven approach.

You're wielding your katana with intent, driving Mongol invaders off Tsushima's shores like a vengeful spirit beneath deep crimson skies, every strike a vow to reclaim your homeland.

That's where stealth comes in—assassinations being swift and brutal, and sneaking through tall grass, silently eliminating targets reshape combat encounters into opportunities for strategic infiltrations rather than direct confrontation. The stealth mechanics themselves aren't particularly outlandish, but their strength lies in how organically they mesh with open combat. Enemy detection is reasonably fair, allowing for deliberate planning rather than cheap failures, while environmental tools like hanging bells to lure guards or vantage points on rooftops expand your tactical options. These elements come together to create flexible encounters where slipping through enemy camps unseen can feel just as thrilling as cleaving through them head-on.

On the other hand, ranged tools and ghost weapons such as Kunai, smoke bombs, sticky bombs, and bows add another layer to our toolkit, giving Jin ways to disrupt enemies and control the flow of battle from afar, providing meaningful tactical options. From a well-timed kunai that can interrupt a heavy brute mid-swing to smoke bombs which create space when you're outnumbered, these tools evolve steadily through upgrades, but the game wisely avoids overcomplicating their management unecessarily. There's enough variety to keep encounters dynamic, but not so much that it turns every fight into a juggling act, as their presence merely reinforces Jin's adaptive, unconventional methods without disrupting the main attraction.

In terms of progression, the skill trees and gear upgrades are fairly straightforward, offering meaningful improvements tied directly to your growth in multiple gauges—the aforementioned stances can be augmented with combo strikes, legendary combat arts bring deadly techniques to Jin's arsenal, while charms provide passive stat boosts to fine-tune your playstyle. In short, the game introduces RPG elements with just enough restraint to keep you invested, ensuring the focus remains on refining your abilities by slaying powerful elite enemies that give you points to spend and learning from each fight.

As everything falls into place, it's fair to say Ghost of Tsushima doesn't break new ground in the genre, but it polishes familiar systems to a level of responsiveness and cohesion that many games struggle to reach. I liked a lot how Jin's evolving toolkit mirrors his narrative arc, shifting from rigid samurai to a cunning ghost, and that alignment between gameplay growth and story progression is one of the game's quiet strengths. The systems themselves may feel overly familiar for some people, but it's the meaning behind using them that elevates their impact—exactly what the game nails with impeccable fluency.

Final Thoughts: Stillness and Calm Beneath a Thousand Storms .

Looking at it through the lens of hindsight, it's remarkable how well Ghost of Tsushima holds up years after its original release. In a landscape where open-world titles age like milk the moment the next big thing drops, the game has retained its status as a top-notch example of a passion project that came to life, even if it comes with a triple-A badge. Its visual presentation remains stunning, its combat systems sharp and intuitive, and its world continues to invite exploration with very little in the way of artificial padding. More importantly, its identity hasn't blurred with the years, remaining a distinct, confident work rather than a relic of its era, and it's easy to see why it became such a cultural touchstone for many players: it delivered an experience that was both mechanically satisfying and thematically resonant—something that remains surprisingly rare even today.

Across its generous runtime, hovering comfortably around the 40–50 hour mark for a standard playthrough, it gives players enough space to breathe in its world and gradually master its systems without bloating itself senseless. The island is constantly pulling at your curiosity—whether you're petting foxes, chasing birds, honoring shrines, or getting ragdolled by black bears, there's a near-endless demand for your attention. Although the pacing isn't flawless, with repetition creeping in through same-y encounters and not-so-varied objectives, the steady sense of progression keeps the momentum alive, ensuring the experience remains engaging long after you've exhausted everything it has to offer mechanics-wise.

From a value perspective, it's hard to argue against what's offered here. Between its main storyline, side quests, mythic tales, exploration incentives, and world-building details, the island never feels barren. It's a compelling single-player adventure with a side taste of multiplayer that respects your time without treating you like a productivity machine, delivering a full-bodied experience without leaning on endless postgame grinds or artificial padding to justify its price tag. That clarity of vision gives the game a timeless quality—it knows exactly what kind of experience it wants to be, and it commits to it without compromise.

Even in a landscape where open-world games shifted toward an abundance of mediocre or half-assed experiences, Ghost of Tsushima's approach feels beyond refreshing, rising above the fold as a masterclass in creating content with intent and purpose. Its elegance lies in refinement rather than disruption, in understanding the strengths of its genre and elevating them with finesse rather than brute force. What might have felt familiar at launch now comes across as confident craftsmanship, and that's aged more gracefully than many trend-chasing contemporaries.

As a completely new IP when it first launched, Ghost of Tsushima carried no legacy to uphold, but it quickly carved one for itself through sheer quality and a distinct identity. In the years since, it hasn't faded into obscurity, having aged gracefully, largely thanks to its timeless art direction and combat that remains tactile and satisfying to this very day. With Ghost of Yotei now out, it's fascinating to see how the original still stands as a benchmark for what Sucker Punch accomplished—a bold debut that didn't just succeed commercially but set a high bar for whatever comes next in the series' lineage.

All that being said, Ghost of Tsushima is an easy recommendation for anyone with even a passing interest in samurai fiction, open-world adventures, or cinematic storytelling that doesn't drown itself in gimmicks. Action fans will find a combat system that rewards finesse, while exploration-minded players will lose themselves in its handcrafted landscapes. Those looking for radical innovation may find it a touch conservative, but for everyone else, it's a masterclass in refinement—a game that doesn't need to scream its importance to be unforgettable.

Gorgeous open world brought to life through breathtaking art direction and cinematic environmental detail.

Deep, precise combat system blending elegance, intensity, and player expression across multiple playstyles.

Striking art direction and visual presentation that elevate even mundane moments into stunning compositions.

Strong narrative and emotional throughline that ties gameplay evolution to character growth with finesse.

Side content and repetitive encounters can dull the sense of discovery over longer sessions.

Occasional stiffness in movement and animation breaks the illusion of fluidity in tighter spaces.

Limited enemy variety and predictable AI patterns lessen the challenge over time.

Some systems, like horse travel and collectibles, feel more decorative than mechanically meaningful.

Ghost of Tsushima

A cinematic and visually stunning open-world adventure defined by style, precision, and emotional weight. Gorgeous, tightly designed, and rich in atmosphere, though not immune to repetition. Its artistry and restraint make it unforgettable long after the credits roll.