From the moment you control Akito, they are everywhere. On crosswalks and sidewalks. In hospitals and subway stations. The small, desolate piece of clothing that once kept someone warm and dry. But now they lie in the same position as when they fell, sitting littered in the streets and buildings of Shibuya, a little together and a little apart, like restless strangers at a dinner party.
Of all the sights and sounds of Ghostwire: Tokyo – trust me, there are plenty of them – it was the clothes that moved me the most. While the main story does its best to tug on your heartstrings and connect you in some way – any The Way – For Akito and his psychic roommates, for all the disgusting emotions, nothing in that story made me feel more sad than seeing all those empty clothes.
So it’s rather frustrating to me that Tango Gameworks started Ghostwire: Tokyo with such a dizzying conceit, but then rarely does it. Like neon lights and puddles, prayer places and Jizo statues, most of what you encounter on the empty streets of Shibuya are just props. window decoration. While occasionally you’ll find a note, a phone, or some small memento to identify the hospital overalls, suit, or school uniform next to them, most of the time you won’t. Most of the time, people in Shibuya don’t seem to matter.
I suspect that’s why I like Ghostwire’s side quests so much. While a bit unbalanced, and often recycling the same few core mechanics – go here, kill this, grab that, come back – at least add a story, if not a name, to that particular pile of clothes on the street. These tasks—and the endless but totally satisfying quest—to feed all the city’s abandoned cats and dogs—are a joy.
That’s not to say I don’t like Ghostwire’s truly dazzling blend of urban monotony and supernatural ghosts, because I absolutely do, and it’s a testament to developer Tango Gameworks, though I’m disappointed with some aspects of its storytelling and core game Play, until the end I was properly invested.
I don’t know how much you know about this story (if you wish to get in without prior knowledge, like me, I’ll do my best to stop it here) but I just want to say that you play Akito dude every day fully inserted A sort of– Daily life, fighting to free the city and loved ones from the tyrannical clutches of rogue mystics. The day the city dweller disappears is the day he finds himself invaded by the ghost hitchhiker KK, through whom Akito can absorb otherworldly powers.
I know right? It’s a utterly weird, outrageous story that never ends in any satisfying way, but it’s utterly calming – so unapologetically at the top and in your face – anyway, you find yourself thinking Keep playing. Of course, there are huge plot holes and it exaggerates everything at every opportunity, but these juxtapositions—real-life drudgery and fantasy; car sirens and supernatural screams; modernity against mysticism— only adds to its charm.
question? is fighting.It’s not like this bad In itself, but it’s not particularly good either, traversing a mediocre no-man’s-land that sometimes feels perfunctory and sometimes just frustrating. You fight not with bullets but with magic, harnessing the elemental powers of wind, water, and fire as you disguise as your enemy (commonly known as the visitor) in multiple disguises. The latter, the wind, is your fast-firing, everyday weapon, while you’ll be taking out your limited reserves of water and fire magic against the big’uns.
By the way, it looks spectacular. Akito’s fingers fly fluidly, swinging emerald tornadoes or fiery fireballs at nearby enemies, but that’s pretty much the only part of Ghostwire combat that feels fluid. Your enemies are running around, and Akito is blessed with arthritic tortoise reflexes. I’ll admit you’re probably better than me, but I suspect you’ll also miss more shots, and even taking advantage of the game’s lackluster aim assist isn’t enough to improve that.Combat does get better the more you play, but it never gets better OKI’m afraid.
It’s not too much of a hassle to walk around in Shibuya, but in boss fights it can be annoying because your fingers are powered by ether and – for reasons I also don’t understand – Random items flash with a supernatural oil slick that, when hit, explodes into etheric shards. So street fights are rarely a problem, as there’s usually something to smash nearby, but boss fights – again, fine, if unremarkable – certainly make combat unnecessarily difficult because of it. Sure, you can use talismans to help balance the balance in your favor, but since even the weapon selection wheel is flaky and sluggish to use, I’ve learned not to rely on these when I’m stressed.
There were also a few cases where KK and Akito were forcibly cut off, and without a doubt, these were the most tedious sequences in the game. One non-magical tool in our arsenal is the bow, and despite its many benefits, you can also crate it and throw arrows at enemies. I found the stealth kill “Purge” as good as good old fashioned escape, and the game made me do it a few times.
What about the tourists themselves? They are glorious terrible and terrible glorious. Drawing directly from Japanese folklore, horror stories, and children’s nightmares, you’ll play a lanky human clone without eyes; a cartwheeled, headless schoolgirl; a young man with martial arts expertise; and an ugly woman, She’ll send you a deadly kiss, which I can hardly avoid given that Akito can’t roll over. Later on, you’ll be with the Ripped Scissor Lady – or Kuchisake-onna – and although her variant will show up several times before Akito completes his adventure, I’m still very scared of her.
Although their attack methods are different, your attack methods rarely deviate from what you learn in the first five minutes of a game. Shoot – shoot – shoot, wait for their “core” to be exposed – essentially the heart – and then encase them with a magic whip. If you’re lucky and undisturbed, you’ll be able to send them there. If you are not, the second round will follow until one of you dies. They, usually.
If nothing else, I’ve learned very few things that warm my heart like a lonely Shibuya dog telepathically saying “Thank you! You’re so kind!” When I share a handful of dog food.
Of course there is more: actually more. I suspect some of you might be tired of the game’s endless demands to find and then clear the torii gates – a periodic task to clear the evil fog that hangs over the streets and hinders your progress – and every time I stumble upon one Rare spots of corruption – pink-black slime on tendrils blocking your way – I had to remind myself what it was. One of the game’s most novel mechanics, handprints, became so tedious (and sometimes unresponsive) that I stopped them and gratefully succumbed to the “Leave KK” button Tango put there, presumably because it thought too much we would got to hate it.
Most of this is aided by Spectral Vision, a blue filter that drops down into Akito’s line of sight to give him a better view of access points, ladders, ethers, tengu – the terrifying bird is in Heads scream, but for reasons I don’t understand, please let’s grab their paws – maybe predictably, it’s so useful that you’ll often use that dull filter to cover up Tokyo’s stunning neon-drenched scene.
To speed up your upgrades, you can wander around Shibuya, picking up the city’s lost soul with scraps of paper, which you can free through a highly sophisticated psychic transfer service that runs on public payphones. You will never run out of health items. You’ll never run out of Meika, the city’s currency. The skill tree is unobtrusive. On the plus side, cats now run the city’s stalls and shops – if a dog makes it, I’ve never seen them – oh did I mention your amazing motorcycles in the fragrant Underworld driving on oil?
But just when you’re about to give up, Tango throws up some disturbingly disturbing sequences that remind you why you’re here. A delicious stew of modern horror tropes – think Bloober games, good old PTs, yes, even evil hearts with twisted worlds and spooky shenanigans – they’re meant to scare and unsettle you while terrifying and Anxiety is exactly what they do. Each of these vignettes is a rare and welcome – if too brief – treat.
If you’re looking for a supernatural game that satisfactorily answers all your metaphysical questions, Ghostwire: Tokyo is probably not the one. But while it frustrates me that Tango doesn’t make the most of its wonderful egos, I can say that – aside from the boring battles – exploring Shibuya is never boring. One foot in the present and one deep in its folkloric past, Ghostwire: Tokyo feels both faded and fresh. If nothing else, I’ve learned very few things that warm my heart like a lonely Shibuya dog telepathically saying “Thank you! You’re so kind!” When I share a handful of dog food.
