Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is a large game. After around fifteen hours meticulous play I’ve only cleared three enormous environments and unraveled what, I assume, are the first threads that will lead to a deeper set of mechanics. What follows is a disjointed-but-hopefully-coherent arrangement of impressions of FromSoftware’s latest Souls-like game.
Sekiro’s basics bear FromSoftware’s house style. The font and delivery of text feels familiar. Combat features lock-on targeting that prefers single engagements over group dynamics. Progress is saved constantly. Bonfires and Lanterns are replaced by electric blue Sculptor Idols, providing moments of reprieve while serving many of the same rest stop purposes. Enemies repopulate when you use an Idol or die. Bosses are walled off in fog-blocked arenas. Skill Points are currency earned by killing enemies. Sound effects, animation, and winding environmental layouts all showcase the work of familiar artists. Unlike Ashen or The Surge (which are both good!), Sekiro’s general organization feels true to its lineage.
The rest of Sekiro is more of a deviation on the Souls formula than Bloodborne. Movement is the first aspect that is immediately noticeable. A grappling hook is a permanent and integral part of your basic mechanics. It can be latched to predetermined points in the environment and can be used to get the hell out of a tight situation, find an out-of-the-way merchant, or move around faster. Basic movement is also more nimble than in any previous Souls game. Sekiro feels fast and agile in a manner comparable to modern action games.
Combat is both familiar and wildly divergent. The basics are in place—an attack button is complimented by a powerful thrust if the same button is held down, while block is left to the other shoulder button—but the order of operations has changed. Opponents have a normal vitality meter but they also have a posture meter. Deflecting attacks, initiated by pressing the block button at the exact moment an attack makes contact, wears down their posture. Once posture is fully overcome, you can perform a deathblow execution. It’s also possible to hack away with your sword and drain their health meter naturally, but it’s a tedious process and absolutely the wrong way to play Sekiro.
Almost any attack can be blocked. I was having trouble dodging fire-arrows from a faraway archer because I forgot I could just block them. Deflecting is much harder because you suffer a significant damage penalty if you mess it up. Each class of opponent has their own unique tells inside their attacks and I’ve built a mental inventory as to who has slightly delays their sword attacks and who just goes for it. Learning an opponent requires patience and practice. Like any Souls game, an environment full of dangerous strangers can, with time, be reduced to a playground full of helpless victims.
The interplay between deflecting, attacking, and outright dodging is the heart of Sekiro’s combat. Certain attacks, signaled by the appearance of flashing red kanji, are unable to be properly deflected. These require the use of Sekiro’s generous dodge mechanic, which is closer to Bloodborne in its speed and effectiveness in getting the hell out of the way. Dodging also creates a unique risk and reward; you cannot defend while you dodge and you will learn this lesson painfully. Sekiro also has an honest to god jump button which is good for both leaping attacks and evading area-of-effect blade sweeps on the ground. It’s funny how a mechanic as simple as “you can actually jump now” can drastically affect combat and movement, but it makes Sekiro feel like a brand new game.
Status effects also worm their way into basic combat. Men wielding torches can inflict burn status, and dousing powder is required to squash the fire. Lizards can spew poison, essentially creating the same effect. I’m still early in Sekiro and enemies haven’t yet met their potential, but their ability to inflict any manner of menacing damage speaks toward Sekiro’s commitment to increasing the pressure as quickly as it changes its pace. These games never want the player to remain comfortable.
There’s also the matter of death. As Sekiro’s title states, it’s possible to die twice. In concept this seems lenient and a strike against Souls sacred doctrine. In practice it terrifies me. The very basic presentation of this process is offered to the player as a choice. When you die you’re allowed to either die—respawn at an Idol with your money and current Skill Points halved—or resurrect. If there were no penalty to resurrection, why would it be a choice? Why wouldn’t I always want to immediately get half my life bar back and take another shot at it? I did this a lot in my first hours of Sekiro. I only do it in emergencies now. I will not tell you why.
Souls games are marketed as brutally punishing monsters of difficulty. This is true, at least relative to other action games in the last two generations, but difficulty isn’t all Souls games have to offer. Partly by deliberate obfuscation and partly by the backbone of an enigmatic world, Souls games indulge in creating massive mystery. You’re supposed to wonder about the machinations of the surrounding world and the greater implications of the choices you make. It isn’t direct, linear storytelling. This catches people off guard (and sometimes makes them angry!) but it’s an essential, often overlooked part of Souls‘ identity.
With that being said, Sekiro has the most clear and direct narrative of any FromSoftware’s recent work. A prologue opens in sengoku-era Japan with the player character, The Wolf, as a shinobi captive. You make an escape, but fail in your ability to protect your ward. This mistake costs you your arm and almost costs you your life. You’re revived…somehow, and a mysterious old gentleman, The Sculptor, affixes your missing arm with a prosthetic. From there Sekiro unfolds with direct and clear spoken dialogue. You have a purpose. You have a goal. With a mixture of historical fiction and basic storytelling, I have a better idea of what’s happening in Sekiro than I did in any recent FromSoftware game outside of Déraciné.
None of this precludes Sekiro’s implicit mystery. Bloodborne shined in a particular sequence where the narrative flow was interrupted (the player was physically kidnapped by an otherwise normal looking enemy and awoke in a new place) and Sekiro goes off course in a similar, albeit much different, manner. Coupled with the fallout of resurrection and the plight of those whom I’ve encountered, it’s clear that something sinister is under the surface. I can’t wait to find out what it is.
That prosthetic arm is Sekiro’s key to character progression. Contrary to normal 16th century technology, your replacement appendage functions identically to the severed one. It can also be outfitted with special technology, provided you’re able to find the parts in the environment. I have found a Flame Vent that expels a burst of fire and a Loaded Axe that demolishes wooden shields. The Shinobi Firecracker frightens beasts. Three sub-weapons can be loaded and only one can be used at a time. All consume a very limited special currency when used. All can be upgraded, and all, right now, feel like gimmicks in search of a greater purpose.
The remainder of character development is left to acquiring and assigning different skills. Latent Skills are permanent and exist in the background, like Suppress Presence which aids stealthy movement and Ascending Carp, which widens the posture response after deflecting upward thrusts. Combat Arts are considered active and must be slotted accordingly in the pause menu. Whirlwind Slash is a spiraling swipe geared toward handling multiple enemies. Nightjar Slash allows your character to jump and perform a head-bashing slice (which is excellent for Lady Butterfly’s unblockable swipe). Shinobi Martial arts are permanent new abilities; the Mikiri Counter transforms the dodge button into a counter when you’re being threatened with an unblockable thrust attack.
All three types of skills unfold as part of a skill tree. It consumes points that are acquired by slaying everyone in your path. Similar to Souls’ character levels, successive tiers require more and more carnage before a new level is earned. Skill trees also have to be found out in the world. At one point I did a favor for Tengu, a guy I met in a ruined castle (I killed three “rats” at a designated location) and he unlocked an entirely new skill tree full of abilities that I now consider indispensable.
You’ll notice Sekiro lacks Souls’ stats-based level upgrades. Harsher critics (like anyone who posts comments on literally anything) may see this as a lack of proper customization and a step away from a core tenet of Souls doctrine. I’m good with not having to worry about it. I’m relieved I don’t have to deal with opaque stats affecting elements I barely understand. Sekiro‘s decision to focus on and combat finesse over total customization creates a meaningful deviation from an established formula. This wasn’t a hasty decision. Sekiro is built with purpose and its intent is to keep players out of menus and in the proper game.
Level design benefits from the grappling hook’s penchant for verticality. The opening area, Ashina Outskirts, is littered with rooftops and pagodas and lookout towers. It creates room for drop-down instant deathblows along with opportunities for observing enemy routes and forging a plan of attack. Ashina Outskirts also proceeds fairly linearly along a wide path. The Hirada Estate, which I wound up in next, had more traditional interlocking zones and convenient shortcuts. Fast travel was permitted between Idols. It is yet unknown whether Sekiro will covet Dark Souls’ masterpiece of interconnected zones or cater more toward Dark Souls 2’s divisive spoke-like arrangement.
Tapping FromSoftware’s roots with Tenchu, stealth can be a major component of Sekiro’s behavior. Tall grass, usually positioned around the perimeter, is effective camouflage at almost any range. Sneaking up behind someone, even sub-bosses, is awarded with an instant deathblow (and seems to replace the backstab). A crouch mechanic is also attached to the L3 button, providing further cover if necessary. Sekiro doesn’t have much in common with Otogi or Ninja Blade, but it is absolutely a ninja game.
You can pause Sekiro. What passes as normal for most single-player campaigns is now a feature in a FromSoftware product. Pause is available because no part of Sekiro is online. This removes Souls mainstays like helpful messages left by other players, viewing the dying ghosts from their bloodstains, and calling in human assistance when things get tough (I have found one NPC who assists in a boss fight). It also nixes PvP and invasions. This was likely done in service of Sekiro’s story (although how environments repopulate when I rest at an Idol, I’m not sure) and to ease the programming hurtles of making Sekiro tick. It’s a loss, but it comes with gain. I can finally, properly pause this thing.
Sekiro features concrete sub-bosses among the regular enemies, identified by two red circles above their health bar. This indicates that they require two deathblows in order to defeat. You must go through the process of demolishing their posture twice. Or, if you can sneak a stealth attack on them, you can wipe out one of those deathblows immediately. In either case these are named foes with unique attacks, and each usually provides a reward in the form of Prayer Beads, four of which can be exchanged for boosts to attack and vitality.
There is nothing in gaming like a proper Souls boss fight. They feature both spectacle and menace, ensuring giant raging beasts are as formidable is dainty humanoids. In my time with Sekiro I have taken down three. The first was a general on horseback in a giant open battlefield. He repeatedly charged me and issued massive, sweeping area-of-effect attacks. At another point I noticed a grappling-hook opportunity above his head, and when engaged I would fly over him and deliver some blows to his person instead of his horse. His size was threatening, but blocking, deflecting, and dodging was just like normal. Once you know your hit boxes, it gets a lot easier.
Last night I vowed not to go to bed until I put my third boss, Lady Butterfly, to sleep. This resulted in staying up an extra two hours and only getting four total hours of sleep. The opening part of the battle is fairly routine. She frequently jumps in the air and tosses out a tri-burst of shurikens. She performs spinning deflections with her knives and occasionally deploys a quick burst of three successive swipes. She has two unblockables, one as death-from-above and another as a spinning ground attack. It looks like ballet. I destroyed her. Then she got back up.
Secret phase-two boss fights are known quantity. When you’ve defeated a boss that was hard, but not too hard, it’s easy to anticipate it happening. Sekiro doesn’t break this trend. It seems to be better about stepping on the gas, though. When Lady Butterfly came back she summoned a dozen ghosts, each with their own deathblows, to populate the arena. They took up physical space—meaning the interrupted my attacks by getting in the way—which meant they had to be dealt with. They’re handled with Snap Seeds, special (and apparently hard to find!) items that banish ghosts. I had acquired five. Through dying and retrying, I used all five Snap Seeds. I was now screwed.
It also didn’t help that Lady Butterfly was more powerful in her second phase. She picked up an attack string that added an unblockable and she now performed a backward dodge in a window that I had been using to mount an attack. If I left the ghosts on the field for too long, she would snap her fingers and turn all of them into white hot, homing projectiles. Oh, also her posture recovers extremely quickly. Perhaps now you can better understand why this took me so long (I operate Souls games at slightly above scrub level. I’m not horrible but I rarely get it right on the first try).
I won, eventually. I discovered that running literal laps around the battlefield while ghosts are active, eventually, prompts Lady Butterfly to dismiss them. If I timed it right, I then outran all the homing missiles she tossed my way. From there it was a matter of Nightjar Slashing her into oblivion while taking care to dodge away the moment she started turning white. Through a mixture of genuine planning and hard cheese, I walked away victorious.
It’s possible I am operating with favorable bias, but there’s nothing like achieving victory in a Souls game. My actual soul is dead and deluded after doing this shit for like thirty years but acing a boss for the first time in a Souls game is a serious endorphin rush and a massive exhale. Sekiro retains this. Bosses feel impossible until you reveal their mortality. This is hyperbole but it is also true. I haven’t felt this since I finished Dark Souls 3’s downloadable content two years ago. Other games draw a wide range of gratifying responses but none that make me feel like I am king of whatever world a Souls sees fit to create.
There are flaws, of course. I am playing Sekiro on a PlayStation 4 Pro. There are moments of serenity when the frame-rate gets close to sixty, but it otherwise wildly moves around and bottoms out at thirty. This is disappointing! If it were locked at thirty maybe I wouldn’t have noticed but right now smooth performance feels like a cruel tease. Perhaps it will be better on a PC or an Xbox One X. Right now I’m worried Sekiro will fare worse than Bloodborne. This is not a deal breaker but it is something to consider.
I’m also not super confident in the button layout. Item use—your healing gourd, poison antidotes, health pebbles—is bound to the top button on the d-pad. Cycling through items is handled by pressing left and right on the d-pad. Somehow, possibly because I’m sloppy, I would accidently hit the cycle button and then use the wrong item. This is not something I wanted to be thinking about in the middle of boss fight that demands every bit of my attention. Switching out sub-weapons is also handled with the triangle button, which is strange. All of this feels less than intuitive and, after twenty or so hours, still doesn’t feel natural. Sekiro has too many actions and not enough good buttons. Of all things I think the blame lies with, finally, a Souls game having a proper jump button.
I still have a lot of game ahead of me, but it’s clear that Sekiro thrives on the relationship between engagement and posture. Bloodborne removed shields and challenged players to stay on the offensive. Sekiro makes its weapons its shields and renders offense and defense part of the same equation. You have to attack and you have to block at highly coordinated intervals and you can’t take a break from either. The cycle of engagement demands absolute focus. This is what I wanted. Sekiro is poised to give it to me.
