Sinara Snake @ebocharanga - Tumblr Blog

Spoiler Review of Death Stranding 2 by Ebocharanga/Sinara Snake. I want to begin by stating my profound admiration for Hideo Kojima. I have followed his career closely since my first exposure to his work with Snatcher in the 1990s. There is so much to appreciate about him as an auteur; he is one of the rare developers who genuinely pours his heart and soul into every project. Death Stranding 2 (DS2) is, overall, a fantastic game. I loved the story and the universe he has continued to build. Much like the first game, it feels like an artistic, poetic reflection of his experiences—specifically his highly publicized exit from Konami. The Death Stranding universe feels like his escape, proving that he is truly thriving on his own.

Kojima has always layered his games with a certain mysticism and covert messaging. For instance, in Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes, there is a memorable sequence where the player erases the logos of his past games, prompting a hidden message noting that while the markings can be erased, the memories will never disappear. Looking back at P.T., Ground Zeroes, The Phantom Pain, and the original Death Stranding (DS1), there is a wealth of symbolism that allows dedicated fans to feel intimately connected to his journey and the pain of his expulsion from Konami. It feels like a hidden dialogue between the creator and his true fans. However, if DS1 was a beautifully coded message to his audience, DS2 often feels like it is hitting us over the head with that same message, as if Kojima was worried we didn't quite catch it the first time.

This is not to say DS2 is a bad game, but it violates a storytelling rule I hold in high regard: you must try your best never to shatter the fourth wall. The fourth wall is what keeps an audience anchored to a narrative; it encloses us in the world and makes us take the creator’s vision seriously. If you completely break that wall, the world loses its weight. "Cracking" the wall, however, is a different story. Cracking it slightly is an effective way to acknowledge the audience's participation without ruining the immersion. Historically, Kojima has been adept at merely cracking the fourth wall just enough to make the player feel like a part of the experience. DS2, unfortunately, breaks it completely.

A prime example of this is the climactic confrontation between Sam and Higgs. Without over-explaining the sequence, the battle dragged on and leaned so heavily into meta-commentary that I felt completely emotionally detached when Higgs was finally defeated. I had nothing tangible to hold onto that made Higgs feel like an actual character within the universe, rather than just a mouthpiece for a message Kojima had already delivered in DS1. When the giant Lou swallowed him up, I was left feeling more confused than impacted. After all of Higgs' efforts to trigger the Last Stranding, his character ultimately felt reduced to a window looking past the fourth wall. He looks directly into the camera multiple times, delivers iconic lines like "Kept you waiting, huh," and acts so overtly as a bridge to the player that his actual in-universe motivations felt moot and frivolous. His journey to Amelie’s Beach felt less like an organic narrative progression and more like a developer's meta-exercise in how a final boss battle "should" be structured.

Consequently, this profound disconnect stripped the late-game narrative of any real tension. I never felt that characters like Rainy, Tomorrow/Lou, Fragile, Diehard-man, Dollman, Tarman, or Heartman were in any actual danger. When the fourth wall is completely demolished, the stakes evaporate because the illusion of reality is gone. Instead of fearing for the characters, the outlandishness of the events makes you acutely aware of the development process—you start picturing the room full of writers and animators contriving the ending you are playing. Aside from Fragile’s fate, it was difficult to feel genuine concern for the cast because, deep down, the broken immersion subconsciously signaled that they were safe; they were merely stepping stones to reach the story's conclusion.

This lack of tangible stakes is precisely why DS2, despite my overall enjoyment of it, will never resonate with me as deeply as DS1. The original game was beautiful and structurally sound. Because the fourth wall remained largely intact, the characters felt real, and the universe Kojima established was gripping. By the end of DS1, you felt a profound, emotional connection to Sam, BB-28/Lou, and Fragile. Contrast that with DS2: when Deadman arrives to rescue you as a cyborg ninja, or when Sam engages in a guitar battle with Higgs, does it feel tangible? Or does it merely feel like an entertaining, albeit weightless, spectacle designed to push you to the next cutscene? Even the environmental threats, like the Timefall, felt significantly less menacing and grounded than they did in the first game. The foundational believability of the world simply feels weaker this time around because the fourth wall wasn't there to keep us anchored.

In many ways, Kojima’s storytelling style is reminiscent of David Lynch. Both auteurs love to play with the boundaries of the medium and crack the fourth wall just enough to make the audience question what they are experiencing. Twin Peaks is a perfect example of this masterful balance; it evokes the same surreal, captivating atmosphere as DS1, Ground Zeroes, or P.T. Lynch is a master of his craft, and Kojima is his equivalent in the realm of video game development. I simply wish DS2 had shown the restraint to maintain that delicate boundary, as it could have been a flawless sequel to the masterpiece that was DS1.

Despite these critiques, I still found the overarching narrative to be incredibly heartwarming and beautiful. The revelations surrounding Lou's survival and the twist that Tomorrow is actually Louise were fantastic. The tragic backstory of Neil Vana and Sam’s wife was deeply compelling, and it brilliantly paralleled Mads Mikkelsen’s storyline from the first game. In fact, the world-building remains so strong that I find myself desperately wanting more. I would love to explore the political landscape of this universe or experience what day-to-day life is actually like for the people living in shelters, relying entirely on porters for survival. Kojima is unparalleled at creating rich, fascinating universes that leave you hungry for more lore. Because of this, I highly recommend DS2 and will absolutely replay it. Given time, I may even be able to forgive its heavy-handed meta-narrative in favor of the beautiful story it ultimately tells.

The Death Stranding universe is a singular achievement that would not exist without Hideo Kojima. In an industry currently saturated with safe adaptations and remakes, his ability to deliver something so wholly unique is a rarity. No one holds a candle to him as a developer and a storyteller. DS2 tells a great story, and I would eagerly play a future installment where Louise takes over as the main character. If that happens, however, I hope the narrative grounds itself back in reality and relies less on the overt symbolism and fourth-wall breaking that categorized DS2.

I generally dislike giving games a numerical rating, as I agree with the sentiment that a simple score is frivolous and often reductive, failing to capture the nuance of a complete review. However, if forced to put it on a scale: I would consider Death Stranding 1 a perfect 10/10, and Death Stranding 2 a solid 8/10.