Ghost of Yotei delivers a haunting tale of vengeance and rebirth

Five years after the release of Ghost of Tsushima, action video gaming powerhouse Sucker Punch Productions returns with Ghost of Yōtei (Sony Interactive Entertainment, Rated M, reviewed on PlayStation 5, $59.99) — a haunting third-person adventure of revenge and reckoning set beneath the shadow of Japan’s Mount Yōtei.

Where the previous game explored the beginning of a legend, Yōtei delves into what happens after one has died and comes back as something else. It’s an eye-catching, beautiful game that trades sweeping heroism for intimacy, weaving together grief, brutality and grace in a world that feels both ethereal and alive.

It’s nearly impossible to play Ghost of Yōtei without comparing it to Tsushima. The two games take place in a similar region, and both employ a gorgeous open-world and expansive story, but they are not that similar.

Set more than 300 years after its predecessor, Ghost of Yōtei follows Atsu, a wandering female mercenary who returns to her homeland beneath Mount Yōtei with a single purpose: vengeance.

Once the daughter of a master swordsmith, Atsu has long known the names of the six men who slaughtered her family — the Yōtei Six — and has spent years honing her craft to kill them. Now branded an onryō, a vengeful spirit feared by the living, she walks the land as both hunter and ghost, cutting down anyone who stands between her and retribution.

In Ghost of Tsushima, the protagonist Jin was a complicated man, but one with a heart of gold. Atsu, by contrast, is weathered and scarred by her past, hardened by survival as an orphan.

Where Jin struggled with his identity as “the Ghost,” Atsu embraces the onryō title bestowed upon her, wielding it as a weapon of fear. She proudly displays her bloodied sash as proof of her vengeance and brutality.

As the story unfolds, Ghost of Yōtei grounds its vengeance narrative with moments of reflection.

For example, returning to her family’s home, nestled in the shadow of Mount Yōtei, a player flashes back to a younger Atsu — fiery, innocent and unscarred.

These moments of stillness — playing shamisen, sparring with her twin brother Jubei — frame the tragedy of what’s been lost. The transformation from spirited youth to spectral warrior hits harder when watching the light that grief extinguished.

Throughout the game, players revisit fragments of Atsu’s past at different locations, reliving both the joy of her family and the horror of the night that changed everything.

Transitioning from memory to mastery, Ghost of Yōtei shines in its combat design. At its core, the mechanics echo those of the previous game, but with a sharper edge and a broader arsenal.

Where Jin unlocked various stances with a single weapon, his katana, Atsu wields an entire armory: the nimble yari (spear), the versatile kusarigama (chain sickle) and, in a reflection of the game’s later historical setting, pistols and long rifles. While this variety might seem daunting, weapon swapping is fluid and satisfying — each transition pushing the player toward a more aggressive, predatory style of combat.

From the very start, Atsu proves she’s unflinching and pragmatic, retrieving a fallen foe’s spear and hurling it through another’s throat. As the game progresses, she continues to expand her arsenal, acquiring short-range tools such as a kunai and adopting shinobi tactics such as smoke powder, which lets her vanish mid-battle and strike unseen.

Her evolution from a hardened mercenary into a true onryō is guided by a cast of vivid supporting characters, including a one-armed sensei who teaches her the dual katana and a wandering musician who instructs her in the art of shadow combat.

While the story spans a smaller geographic scale than Tsushima, Ghost of Yōtei makes every region feel expansive and alive. Each territory ruled by a member of the Yōtei Six boasts its own terrain, architecture, and enemy culture, ensuring that combat never grows stale.

The Grasslands of Ezo, dominated by the Oni and his red-masked outlaws, is a scorched wasteland of terror and ash. The Oni himself towers in ornate samurai armor, his brutality mirrored in the flames that devour entire towns.

In stark contrast, the Kitsune governs the icy peaks of Teshio Ridge, where his white-clad soldiers ambush travelers from snowdrifts. His region emphasizes stealth and cunning over brute force, with puzzle-locked hideouts and intricate puzzle boxes to unlock.

Each region of the game also allows the player to accept bounties for both monetary rewards and new cosmetic gear. While some of the bounties are simple, such as tracking down a rogue ronin attacking travelers, others have much more in-depth stories, like a woman who killed a samurai in self-defense.

Atsu’s reactions to finding her bounties also vary: if they are selfish or cruel, they die, but if they are victims of circumstance, she will help them escape their fate.

Between these moments of carnage, Ghost of Yōtei finds its soul in serenity. The game truly emphasizes the rewards of true wandering in a world brimming with spiritual details and quiet beauty: foxes guiding Atsu to hidden shrines and shamisen melodies revealing secrets of the land.

Travelers whisper rumors of hot springs tucked between cliffs, while Ainu traders share mythical tales that spiral into richly written side quests. These moments of exploration lend a rhythm to Atsu’s life as a wanderer — from cooking fish and mushrooms, tending campfires, and crafting ammunition before setting off again.

The game also holds several easter eggs for fans of Ghost of Tsushima, including a certain samurai’s mask and katana.

Upgrading in the game is also dependent on wandering, as players must find Altars of Reflection to unlock new skills and combat upgrades.

One of the most moving parts of Ghost of Yōtei finds Atsu’s evolving bond with the wolf.

When players first encounter it, the animal is cautious and feral, a mirror of Atsu’s own isolation. By discovering wolf dens and earning its trust, players slowly form a connection that grows deeper over time.

Eventually, the wolf becomes a steadfast companion, joining Atsu during stand-offs and combat encounters, its haunting howl echoing hers. It’s a subtle but powerful mechanic that not only enriches gameplay but also mirrors Atsu’s struggle to reclaim her humanity through connection.

Even with all its haunting beauty, Ghost of Yōtei has its flaws. Nonplayable characters’ face models occasionally repeat, and certain training sequences feel slightly buggy. Yet these small blemishes are easy to forgive in a world crafted with such care.

From the two-phase Kitsune boss fight in a moonlit glade to the subtle symbolism of Atsu’s walk through a field of orange flowers representing hatred, every inch of the game feels deliberate and meaningful.

By its conclusion, Ghost of Yōtei transforms from a revenge tale into something deeper. Atsu’s journey is not one of redemption, but of reckoning — an exploration of how grief and vengeance intertwine until they become indistinguishable.

Her wrath does not cleanse her; it exposes her humanity. By the time the final confrontation arrives, Atsu is less ghost and more human, her fury tempered by sorrow.

Ghost of Yōtei is not just a worthy successor; it’s a meditation on loss, legacy and the cost of survival.