Burying a Ghost
WARNING: This article contains heavy spoilers for Ghost of Yōtei.
Not often is a legend so unfamiliar born under a shadow so gargantuan.
Ghost of Yōtei (2025) is one of few. The new action-adventure title from Sucker Punch Productions faced the Herculean task of following up on the massively popular Ghost of Tsushima (2020), widely considered one of the best samurai games of all time.
Set in the region of Ezo (modern-day Hokkaido) in the year 1603, Ghost of Yōtei follows the story of Atsu, a wandering ronin on a quest for vengeance against her family’s killers. For the vast majority of the fifty-odd hours I spent with the game, I was completely enthralled by its narrative and gameplay alike. I don’t think it was objectively flawless—or even the best game of the year (Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 says hello)—but on a personal level, it resonated with me immensely. By the time I’d dug through every last nook and cranny Yōtei had to offer, it was contending for one of my personal favorite games of all time.
Atsu carries a sash with the names of the criminals who slaughtered her family
While Yōtei maintained the core samurai–themed action/adventure formula of its predecessor, it raised eyebrows by making a complete narrative departure from the first game. The game is set 300 years after the events of Tsushima, whose beloved protagonist Jin Sakai is but an urban legend by the time we follow Atsu on her hunt.
Sucker Punch’s unorthodox approach to expanding their franchise is something I’ve rarely encountered, much less explored. It unearths a number of compelling questions about what makes a good video game sequel, and provides a fascinating analysis of how Ghost of Yōtei rose to meet the moment.
Sequels and franchises form a bigger share of today's video game market than ever before. The overwhelming majority of the top-earning titles in September 2025 (USA) were sequels or entries in existing franchises. The same is true of the prior month, and the month before, and the month before, and... you get the picture. Similarly, 21 of the 30 titles nominated for Game of the Year since 2020 are entries in existing franchises. This is just one symptom of a modern video game industry that has become exceptionally high-risk, not only because games increasingly cost nine figures to create, but also because of the sheer volume of titles on the market that make discoverability a nightmare. Sequels are therefore an easy value proposition. If your first game did well enough, you have somewhat of a guarantee that a follow-up will see at least some success on name alone.
Naturally, however, they are also held to a higher standard. Sequels are expected to improve significantly upon their predecessors, and so what makes a good or bad sequel is not always congruent with what makes a good or bad game more generally. As video game essayist Asad Anjum describes, the perception that a sequel doesn't make enough of a stride in that regard can often earn it allegations of being a glorified expansion pack—a common criticism of The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom and Marvel's Spider-Man 2, despite both of those games being excellent in a vacuum.
Anjum further argues that sequels generally introduce two broad types of change; mechanical and contextual. The former involves shifting the actual actions you take inside a game—whether that's new weapons, new puzzles, or even a change of subgenre—while the latter involves a shift in story, setting, visual direction, or other stylistic elements. The most successful sequels are the ones that find the right blend; just enough mechanical difference to feel novel yet familiar, and contextual differences that propose new artistic ideas while respecting the franchise’s prior canon.
Ghost of Yōtei is an interesting case under this framework, because of the unique way in which it realizes both contextual and mechanical change while grappling with the legacy of Tsushima. In many ways, it is simultaneously deeply faithful to its predecessor and yet boldly untethered from it.
In crafting Ghost of Yōtei's narrative, Sucker Punch took an audacious contextual leap by pivoting away from the story of Jin Sakai, whose character arc was one of the most well-loved aspects of Ghost of Tsushima. Born and raised a samurai with a strict honor code, Jin must grapple with his identity as he struggles to defend his home and loved ones from the Mongol invasion. As the story progresses, he finds himself increasingly forced to abandon his principles and fight by any means necessary, eventually renouncing his samurai lineage and embracing the mantle of the titular Ghost. Their decision to pursue a new direction with Atsu invited its fair share of skepticism, since many expected them to carry forth Jin's acclaimed story (though the studio argued that it had already reached an apt conclusion).
Ghost of Yōtei is, fundamentally, a story of revenge, but as a close reading of its narrative illustrates, it’s also a quest for identity. The game begins with a flashback of young Atsu, forced to watch helplessly as antagonist Lord Saitō and his cabal of crime lords—together the Yōtei Six—murder her parents, shoot her older brother Jubei, and leave her for dead pinned to a burning ginkgo tree. Atsu miraculously survives, swearing to avenge her family and kill every last one of the Six. Back in the present, the prologue closes as she kills the bandit known as the Snake, crossing the first name off her list.
The infamous Yōtei Six, helmed by Lord Saitō
For much of the story's first two acts, Atsu has a one-track mind and is blindly obsessed with avenging her family. She gains infamy as an onryō, a ghastly spirit consumed by vengeance. Sprinkled throughout the plot, however, are beats where Atsu is forced to reckon with moments that destabilize her worldview.
At one point, she reunites with Jubei—who also narrowly survived the Night of the Burning Tree—for the first time since they were orphaned. Taken in by the Matsumae samurai clan after fleeing the massacre, he’s grown up to become a grounded, devoted and disciplined leader—a value set Atsu struggles to reconcile with, having grown up a lonely scavenger herself. Their reunion, as is perhaps to be expected given the diametrically opposed lives they've led, is deeply uncomfortable at first. She scoffs, "You don't know me. I don't know you. The Yōtei Six took that from us." As they work together to vanquish the Oni—the general of the Six—Atsu’s recklessness and bloodlust often clash with Jubei’s more measured approach and his sense of duty to his clan.
Atsu also meets Oyuki, who initially appears to be an unassuming (albeit cunning) busker. However, she’s eventually revealed to be the former Kitsune—the spymaster of the Yōtei Six—who deserted Lord Saitō’s cruel order. When Atsu first pieces the truth together, she’s furious and attempts to kill Oyuki for her complicity in the death of her parents. But she soon grows to see the woman behind the mask, recognizing Oyuki’s remorse and internalizing that killing her will only reinforce the Six’s vice grip on Ezo. With a blade to Oyuki’s throat, Atsu says, “I will never forgive the Kitsune. But the innkeeper’s daughter… I might forgive her.” The two subsequently work together to locate and defeat Dojun, who usurped Oyuki as the new Kitsune.
Atsu’s relationships with both Jubei and Oyuki become catalysts for her healing, as she slowly begins to see purpose in life beyond her hunt. This is crystallized in the back half of the story, when she meets Jubei's young daughter, Kiku. Although she’s affable and carefree on the surface, Kiku hides a furious streak not unlike Atsu's own. Atsu begins to see herself in her niece, which terrifies her. Despite this—or perhaps because of it—she comes to care for Kiku deeply.
The game's ending masterfully punctuates this development. Atsu and Jubei confront Lord Saitō, the last of the Yōtei Six, in their childhood home—the same place he killed their parents sixteen years ago. Atsu manages to kill Saitō, but not before he kills Jubei. It's a sequence that you expect to feel cathartic but just... doesn't. I remember driving a sword through Saitō's chest and wondering why I didn't care. At first, I was upset that this revenge Atsu had spent her whole life working towards felt so hollow, but I later realized this lack of catharsis was an intentional reflection of Atsu’s reformed motivations. She’s no longer driven by her hatred of the Six, but by making sure that Kiku won't have to go down the same path she did. To that end, her last words to Jubei are "She will never be alone."
Atsu embraces Kiku after the death of Jubei
It's a poignant story, elevated by exceptional performances from Erika Ishii and Fairouz Ai, who voice Atsu in English and Japanese respectively. Jin does not play a part in the story beyond an optional cameo mission where Atsu—recalling myths she heard about the legendary Ghost—digs up his old sword and armor, but the influence of Ghost of Tsushima lingers silently all the same. Jin and Atsu serve as literary foils to each other; where one learns to embrace the Ghost throughout his story, the other must learn to bury the Ghost in hers. It's a subtle callback that pays homage to the series' roots even while telling a completely distinct story. And that is masterful.
Sucker Punch's mechanical swings are not nearly as drastic as those they've taken on the contextual front, but Ghost of Yōtei hardly slacks in introducing new structure to the game.
The weapon combat, which forms the meat and potatoes of Yōtei's gameplay, is immediately familiar to fans of Tsushima. It maintains the fluidity and responsiveness of the first game, but innovates by replacing Tsushima's sword stances with five different weapon types—each of which is most useful against a certain type of enemy. This works mechanically the same way as before; where you would once swap to Jin's Water stance against shielded enemies and Wind stance against spearmen, you now use Atsu's kusarigama to slay shield-bearers or her dual katanas to fend off spearmen. Nonetheless, it feels a lot more fresh than using one sword five different ways.
The yari (spear) is my favorite new weapon
A new addition to Ghost of Yōtei is the wolf companion, although this wolf isn’t your typical video game pet; it’s a wild animal who appears situationally, on its own terms. At first, it’ll intervene sparingly to maul through enemies at an encampment, or save Atsu if she’s close to dying in combat. But as you complete side quests with the wolf, your bond strengthens—the wolf grows stronger, as does the frequency with which you can call for its help. The wolf also serves as a narrative parallel to Atsu. Early on, it’s a ruthless, untamed beast that acts only on its own terms, but it slowly grows to trust her through the events of the story. By the epilogue, it wanders by Atsu’s home and doesn’t even snarl—just softly yelps as she gently pets it. In that sense, the wolf is symbolic of the grief and rage that Atsu has finally overcome.
Furthermore, the main story is presented far more nonlinearly than Tsushima's; Yōtei follows a diamond-like structure that affords much more agency and freedom while still maintaining a coherent plot. The beginning (killing the Snake) and end (killing Saitō) are fixed points, but you’re free to tackle the rest of the Yōtei Six as you see fit. Each individual hunt also marks a different aspect of Atsu's evolution as a warrior. As part of your search for the Kitsune, you'll learn new stealth takedown techniques, whereas tracking down the Oni will require you to master the use of incendiary weapons. This adds an element of personalization to the story—the order in which you complete your quests determines the techniques available to you for the next one, and so one player's campaign can differ drastically from another's.
Yōtei also makes strides with its open-world design and content. Its map has six diverse biomes compared to Tsushima's three, but the maps are about the same size because Yōtei sticks to the dogma of quality over quantity. It drastically reduces the amount of bloat collectibles and side quests that plague so many open-world games today. Collectibles don't feel like busywork, and each side quest is a small but fully integrated part of Atsu's overarching journey to find herself. A particular standout is the questline wherein she encounters Ezo’s indigenous Ainu tribes, whose nonviolent nature gives Atsu pause during her arduous journey.
In that same vein, Yōtei improves the already impressive diegetic exploration mechanics that made Tsushima successful. The famous guiding wind and golden birds make their return, helping guide you to points of interest without needing to slap a marker on a HUD overlay, and Yōtei pushes this forward by further reducing the amount of handholding in the game. It does away with Tsushima's map, which would place giant question marks exactly where players needed to go, and replaces that with more natural avenues of discovery. You might use your spyglass from the crest of a hill to spot a hot spring in the distance, or talk to a villager who tips you off to an enemy camp due northwest. Even the progression system is entirely diegetic. Yōtei has no level system, no XP—nothing that implies an out-of-world progression. Atsu gets stronger by visiting altars within the world, each of which then permit her to learn one new technique on the skill tree.
When Atsu finds one of these altars, she can learn a new technique
Despite its many strengths, however, Yōtei’s gameplay isn’t without its shortcomings. Traversal challenges that require you to scale up mountains are mind-numbingly simple and present no real test of platforming acumen. Elsewhere, enemy behavior can sometimes be far too formulaic, making it unsatisfying to pull off stealthy assassinations after you've gotten away with stabbing an enemy in the back for the thousandth time.
That said, in almost all mechanical aspects, Yōtei successfully builds on the foundations of Tsushima in a way that’s both iterative and innovative.
I'll admit I was doubtful when Ghost of Yōtei was first announced.
I'm a big fan of Erika Ishii, and Atsu looked like a badass from the very first teaser trailer. Plus, I found it incredibly funny to see all the keyboard warriors crawl out of their caves and spout some incoherent bullshit about the woke left ruining gaming by putting WOMEN everywhere. Oh, the horrors. But how could you do a Ghost game without Jin Sakai? It felt like heresy!
I'm so glad I was wrong. Not only did Yōtei end up totally blowing me away, but it also carried on the legacy of its predecessor in such a creative and unexpected fashion. Neither its story nor its gameplay are revolutionary masterpieces of game design, but Yōtei knows what it wants to do and executes brilliantly. At risk of sounding saccharine, I think that's what video games need today if we're going to remain a franchise-driven market. Not overambitious trend-chasers cramming in random features no one asked for into their 67th rushed release, but developers who actually respect this art form and the creations that came before, stick to their guns, and deliver on a project they're passionate about.
Very rarely in this age of gaming do I feel compelled to say that a sequel puts its predecessor to shame. Especially not when the original game is a masterpiece like Ghost of Tsushima.
But Ghost of Yōtei manages to do just that.
To see more of what I’ve been playing, check out my Backloggd account.
