On Ghost of Tsushima, and Living in Another World
By: Brandon R. Chinn
Tags: Self Care, Art, Gaming, Life, Essay

Games are escapism, and sometimes I want to stay.

The first time I felt like I stepped out of my bedroom and into another world was in playing Shadow of the Colossus. Despite the several years of gaming I’d experienced before entering Fumito Ueda’s masterpiece, there was something different about Shadow of the Colossus, something almost indescribable. The world felt real.

Even back on the PS2, shrouded in fog and low polygons, the Forbidden Lands were an inarguably real place to my fourteen-year-old mind. Shadow of the Colossus was more than simply a fun game, it was real escapism. Though the world is infamously under-populated, it felt absolutely brimming with life. Every tree, waterfall, and bird felt like it had a place and reason. Instead of existing as a video game, Shadow of the Colossus felt like it was letting me into a world that had existed forever, pulling back the veil so I could have a small moment in the time with this very real dimension.

I never wanted to leave.

Few games have captured me in this way. In the nearly twenty years that I’ve been gaming, only a handful of video games have ever established world building that felt so real and honest that I felt compelled to move through the world regardless of quests or combat or story. Ghost of Tsushima delivered, not simply because of its gorgeous graphics or setting but because of how cohesively it puts all its pieces together. The island of Tsushima as presented in the game feels more like a real place than many video game settings I have experienced, and not only because of its historical accuracy (though this fact has been hotly contested). Tsushima felt honest and real and open. It felt like somewhere I could live.

The settings are marvelous, and there is no area in the game that doesn’t look like a piece of art.

Beyond the combat or the endless search for headbands, Ghost of Tsushima delivered itself as a singularly meditative experience. Aside from its storyline, the game does not feel as though it cares how you approach it. You could spend hours fighting Mongols and rescuing villages, or you could simply stand by the side of a waterfall and play your flute. You can move mindlessly to quest after quest or you can stop and watch the leaves fall. With or without my Playstation 4 being on, it feels as though Ghost of Tsushima is still existing there, simply waiting for me to walk through a bamboo grove or sit in a hot spring.

It is obvious that Sucker Punch wanted the player to feel like the world was alive and brimming with possibility. Tsushima island, despite only being a small piece of Japan off the archipelago, felt massive and endless. Across my fifty-plus hours with the game, riding through grasslands or running across fields of blooming crimson flowers never lost its charm. The changing of the weather and the seasons felt real. The creatures around me moved and lived as though they were indifferent to my existence, as if their placement in the world was of their own design and reason. Every location, from shore to mountain, felt important and structured. This speaks to an impressive level of game design, and moreover, a labor of love.

I can’t wait to go back and live in Tsushima again, and hopefully Sucker Punch is willing to take me there.