The otherwise amazing, otherworldly atmosphere of Ghostwire: Tokyo is hampered by mediocre fighting and tedious activities.
They are everywhere as soon as you gain control of Akito. on the pavements and crosswalks. both in the metro stops and the hospital. Tiny, desolate heaps of clothes that once provided warmth and protection. But now they lie exactly where they fell, scattered in messy small clusters around Shibuya’s streets and buildings, somewhat together yet somewhat apart, like nervous newcomers at a supper party.
Despite all the sights and noises in Ghostwire: Tokyo—and believe me, there are plenty—these outfits were the ones that really moved me. Even with its overly sentimental core plot that tries its hardest to tug at your heartstrings and make you feel somehow connected to Akito and his psychic roommate, nothing in the tale made me feel as depressed as the sight of all those empty clothing.
Therefore, it greatly irritates me that Tango Gameworks begins Ghostwire: Tokyo with such a brilliant idea yet ends up doing virtually little with it. Most of what you see on the deserted streets of Shibuya, including the neon and the puddles, the prayer places and the Jizo sculptures, are props. window covering. Most of the time, though, you won’t discover a message, a phone, or any other memento to identify the medical scrubs, the work outfit, or the school uniform beside them. The residents of Shibuya don’t appear to matter most of the time.
I think that’s the reason I found Ghostwire’s side missions so entertaining. Even though it was a little erratic and frequently repeated the same few essential concepts (go here, kill this, get that, come back), it was satisfying to give that specific pile of clothes on the street at least a name. These tasks were a joy, as was the never-ending but utterly satisfying quest to feed all the city’s stray cats and dogs.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy Ghostwire’s truly bewildering blend of supernatural spooks and urban monotony—I did, in fact, and it’s a credit to developer Tango Gameworks that I was sufficiently invested in the game until the very end, despite my disappointment with certain aspects of its core gameplay and storytelling.
I’m not sure how much of the plot you already know (and if you want to enter the game knowing nothing at all, like I did, I’ll try my hardest to keep it vague), but in short, you play as Akito, an average guy thrust into an utterly extraordinary life, battling to save the city and a loved one from the despotic grasp of a renegade occultist. The day the people of the city vanished was also the day he discovered he was being infiltrated by KK, a ghostly hitchhiker who allows Akito to absorb supernatural abilities.
You know what I mean? Even though the absurd, ridiculous plot is never satisfactorily resolved, it is so completely at ease with itself—so blatantly over-the-top and in your face—that you find yourself wanting to keep going. Though there are obvious story gaps and excessive exaggeration at every turn, these juxtapositions—real-life monotony and the surreal, vehicle alarms and ghostly screams, modernism versus mysticism—only serve to heighten the film’s allure.
The issue? It’s the battle. It’s not horrible in and of itself, but it’s also not very excellent, existing in a mediocrity-filled gray area that may be irritating at times or seem like a chore at others. When you assume the numerous personas of your adversaries, who are referred to as Visitors, you battle with magic instead of firearms, using the elemental abilities of fire, water, and wind. When it comes to dealing with larger opponents, you will use your limited supply of flame and water magic in addition to your daily weapon, Wind.
By the way, that looks amazing. While Akito’s fingers move effortlessly to unleash fiery or emerald tornadoes on opposing enemies, Ghostwire’s combat lacks any fluidity otherwise. Your adversaries thrash around wildly, and Akito has the reflexes of an arthritic turtle. I acknowledge that you may be more skilled than me, but I also have a suspicion that you will miss more shots than make them. Using the mediocre aim-assist feature in the game doesn’t seem to solve the problem either. The more you play, the better the combat gets, but unfortunately, it never gets great.
While walking around Shibuya, this isn’t too problematic, but during boss battles, it may be excruciatingly frustrating because your fingers are powered by Ether and, for unknown reasons, random objects shimmer like an ethereal oil slick and burst into shards of Ether when hit. As such, street combat never becomes troublesome because there’s generally something around to destroy; yet, boss fights might be too difficult as a result, which is again OK, albeit ordinary. Yes, talismans can help shift the odds in your favor, but even the weapon-select wheel is unresponsive when used, so I’ve learned not to rely on them when things get tight.
There are also a few scenes in which KK is violently separated from Akito; these are unquestionably the most boring parts of the game. The bow is the only non-magical weapon we have, yet for all its benefits, you might as well just hurl arrows at your opponents instead of using it. In the rare instances the game allowed me to, I discovered that running away and sneaking out to kill “purges” worked just as well.
But what about the Visitors themselves? They are both horrifyingly magnificent and wonderfully terrifying. Taken straight out of Japanese horror films, children’s nightmares, and folklore, you’ll face off against a headless, cartwheeling schoolgirl; a young man skilled in martial arts; and an ugly woman who will frequently blow deadly kisses at you, which I could hardly avoid because Akito can’t roll. You’ll face the slit-mouthed scissor lady later on, also known as Kuchisake-onna, and even though Akito won’t finish his trip until she appears several times, I still find her to be utterly terrifying.
Though their assault strategies change, yours seldom ever stray from what you discover in the first five minutes of the game. Shoot, shoot, shoot, and when their “core”—basically, their hearts—is revealed, use a magical whip to lasso them. You’ll be able to eliminate them right away if you’re fortunate and don’t run into any problems. If not, round two will begin and continue until one of you is eliminated. Usually them.
If nothing else, I’ve discovered that not many things make me feel as good as a lone Shibuyian dog communicating telepathically to say “Thanks! When I give you a handful of dog food, you’re kind.
Of course, there is more—a lot more, in fact. The game’s constant demands to locate and purify Torii gates, a recurring mission to dispel the evil mist that obscures the streets and impedes your progress, may grow tedious to some. Whenever I came across a rare instance of corruption, which is a pinkish-black substance that grows in tendrils and obstructs your way, I had to remind myself of what it was. Hand seals, one of the most innovative game elements, became so boring (and sometimes unresponsive) that I gave up on them and happily accepted Tango’s “Leave it to KK” option, which was apparently placed there because it too assumed we would grow tired of it.
The majority of this is made possible by Spectral Vision, a blue filter that covers Akito’s vision to improve his visibility of ladders, access points, Ether, and Tengu—terrifying birds that screech overhead but kindly allow us to remove their claws for reasons I cannot comprehend. Perhaps inevitably, this filter is so helpful that you will frequently find yourself covering Tokyo’s breathtaking neon-filled sights with it.
To speed up leveling up, you may roam Shibuya collecting the city’s lost souls with a paper katashiro, which you can free thanks to a very intricate spirit transfer business that runs from public payphones. There is never a shortage of health products. The money of the city, Meika, will never run out on you. The skill tree is not very noteworthy. Positively, the city’s stores and stalls are now controlled by cats (if a dog made it, I’ve never met them), and your magical motorcycle is powered by enticing underground oil.
However, Tango inserts some delightfully frightening moments that serve as a reminder of why you should keep going just when you’re about to give up. They’re a delicious concoction of contemporary horror clichés, with twisting worlds and eerie hijinks reminiscent of Bloober games, classic PT, and yes, even The Evil Within. Their purpose is to frighten and unnerve you, and that’s precisely what they accomplish. These vignettes were all too brief, yet they were all unusual and pleasant treats.
I regret to inform you that Ghostwire: Tokyo is not the spooky game for you if you’re searching for a solution to all of your philosophical questions. Even while I find it annoying that Tango didn’t capitalize on its brilliant idea, I can honestly claim that, despite the tedious fighting, wandering Shibuya is never boring. Ghostwire: Tokyo feels both worn and new at the same time, with one foot firmly planted in the present and one very much enmeshed in its folkloric past. If nothing else, I’ve discovered that few things make me feel as good as a lone Shibuyian dog communicating telepathically to say “Thanks! When I give you a handful of dog food, you’re kind.