Kojima’s wildest, most emotional journey yet. Death Stranding 2: On the Beach still finds clarity amid chaos.
Few creators in gaming command as much mystique and anticipation as Hideo Kojima. Since parting ways with Konami and launching Kojima Productions, he’s established himself as a genre-defying auteur, most notably through 2019’s Death Stranding. And now we have been blessed with another game, Death Stranding 2: On the Beach.
That game polarized audiences with its bold “strand-type” gameplay and eerie post-apocalyptic narrative, but it undeniably introduced a fresh voice in the AAA space. Now, with Death Stranding 2: On the Beach, Kojima returns not with a simple sequel but a radical reimagining that’s at once grander and more introspective. Developed exclusively for PlayStation 5, this is a game that embraces its lineage while reshaping it into something both more conventional and more bizarre.
Set years after the events of the first game, Death Stranding 2: On the Beach begins with a quiet moment: Sam Porter Bridges, now living off-grid in northern Mexico, is raising Lou — the former Bridge Baby — now a lively toddler, outside the jar and finally humanized.
These intimate scenes of domestic bliss are soon disrupted by Fragile, returning with a mission: to reconnect Mexico and, eventually, Australia to the Chiral Network. The apocalypse has shifted south, and Sam’s new job takes him across a transformed Australian continent.
If the original game questioned the dangers of technological overreach and isolation, this sequel continues those threads while layering in more overt metaphysical and emotional tones. Kojima tackles everything from corporate colonization to the trauma of loss. Sam, grappling with the weight of grief, buries himself in deliveries, the one task that still gives him purpose.
But this isn’t just his journey anymore. With new allies, including George Miller’s cameo as a guiding mentor figure, Death Stranding 2: On the Beach crafts a narrative about shared burdens and fragile hope, even as it leans into Kojima’s most surreal, self-referential storytelling yet.
The absurdist worldbuilding continues — acronyms, jargon, ghostly metaphors — and while it often reads like dream logic, the game’s emotional throughline remains clear. Yes, there are scenes that feel indulgent, even nonsensical, but others land with poetic clarity. Between Norman Reedus, Léa Seydoux, Elle Fanning, and Shioli Kutsuna, every scene feels performed with purpose, grounding the most fantastical imagery in deeply human performances.
At its core, Death Stranding 2: On the Beach still revolves around delivering packages, but now the experience is richer, faster, and more accessible. Sam isn’t alone anymore, and you’re rarely treading through silence. The world is larger, more reactive, and brimming with environmental challenges; think earthquakes, sandstorms, bushfires, and floods that dynamically alter your traversal routes.
Preparation is still key. Before venturing into the outback, you load up with tools like ladders, PCC units, generators, and spare boots. With the help of Chiralium, Sam can “print” objects into existence, bridges across rivers, roads over rugged terrain, or power supplies to recharge vehicles. What starts as a straightforward delivery quickly snowballs into a multi-layered logistical puzzle.
The Chiral Network still acts as the backbone of the asynchronous multiplayer system. Everything you build — ladders, ziplines, highways — is shared across your instance of the game world. You might stumble across someone else’s shelter during a storm or find your vehicle recharged by a generator placed by a stranger.
It’s a silent collaboration, one that never feels forced or competitive. Playing offline feels notably lonelier and more punishing, reinforcing the game’s theme: we survive together or not at all.
Unlike the first game, though, your moment-to-moment journey is now more visually and mechanically stimulating. Fast traversal options, including high-speed bikes and a bruiser of a pickup truck, allow you to carve routes across the continent. But Kojima never lets things get too easy; overconfidence often leads to hilarious and catastrophic failure, especially when Sam’s towering cargo stack topples after a slight misstep.
The stealth and combat systems have seen the most significant overhaul. Where the original game treated violence as a last resort, DS2 pushes you into action more frequently. Enemy camps are denser and more vigilant, often requiring creative approaches. Build a watchtower to tag enemies, then decide: sneak, shoot, or distract? You can go guns blazing, tie up hostiles with rope, or simply sneak past.
Combat is punchier, with cinematic flair added to each action. Slow-motion kicks in during takedowns, bullets zip past with dramatic force, and stealth moves evoke Kojima’s Metal Gear roots with anime-inspired style.
Larger enemies and boss fights feature cinematic sequences that rival blockbuster films, flashy and fun but sometimes lacking mechanical depth. In some missions, weapons are thrown at your feet to encourage immediate shootouts, a tonal shift that can feel at odds with the original game’s pacifist leanings.
The trade-off is clear: while these segments are undeniably thrilling, they sometimes dilute the philosophical weight that defined Death Stranding. For those who found the original too slow or cerebral, this will be a welcome shift. For others, it may feel like Kojima caving slightly to convention.
XP and progression remain tied to your Porter ranking. Deliver efficiently, protect cargo, and help settlements; your efforts are graded and rewarded with better gear, more materials, and improved bonds with NPCs.
These connections impact the gameplay in subtle ways, unlocking new fabrication blueprints or getting access to more powerful items and vehicles. It’s not “grinding” in the traditional RPG sense, but your diligence is always rewarded.
Death Stranding 2: On the Beach on PS5 Pro is, simply put, the best-looking console game to date. Every detail, from the grain of sand under Sam’s boots to the individual fibers on his jacket, is stunningly rendered.
Whether navigating a craggy mountain or gliding down a zipline as the sun breaks over the horizon, the visuals elevate the game’s atmosphere tenfold. Environmental effects, like Timefall aging materials in real-time or wind sweeping over grasslands, feel both technical and artistic in execution.
Even the UI has been redesigned with elegance, futuristic, yet clean and minimal. Monorail rides, drone-assisted traversal, and cutscenes blend seamlessly with no visible loading, thanks to PS5’s high-speed SSD.
Audio design in Death Stranding 2: On the Beach is among Kojima’s finest work. The soundscape reflects a world teetering between ruin and rebirth. The crunch of gravel, the echo of wind over cliffs, and the synthetic hum of Chiral-powered devices, each layer adds to the immersion. But it’s the soundtrack that truly stands out.
Featuring cameos from Kojima’s favorite bands and artists, the licensed tracks surface at pivotal moments. LOW ROAR may be gone, but their spiritual successors continue the legacy of quiet melancholy.
And in key scenes, music cues hit like emotional sucker punches, perfectly complementing the moment. Even amidst absurdist sequences, the sound always keeps you grounded.
The voice acting is stellar, with Norman Reedus delivering a subdued but powerful performance. Elle Fanning and Léa Seydoux match him scene for scene, giving the bizarre plot a surprising emotional authenticity. It’s cinema, through and through, in framing, pacing, and delivery.
Death Stranding 2: On the Beach is a paradox. It’s louder, more conventional, more action-packed than its predecessor, and yet it’s also stranger, more intimate, and more emotionally raw. Kojima’s self-indulgence is on full display, filled with cameos, obscure references, and tonal whiplash.
But despite all that — or maybe because of it — the game works. It hits emotional highs, gameplay satisfaction, and visual excellence more consistently than any of Kojima’s works in over a decade.
You’ll question what it all means, then find yourself weeping at a cutscene of a baby giggling. You’ll curse the environment for tossing boulders in your path, then thank the stranger who built a bridge you didn’t know you needed. You’ll feel alone, then part of something larger.
