Ghostwire: Tokyo is a game that isn’t afraid to ask the big questions: What happens after we die? Is the body really just a corporeal prison for our true essence? Can you find a second roll of toilet paper for this ghost so they can ascend to heaven and the next ghost can use the bathroom (and then also pass to the realms beyond)?
This is a singular game, no doubt, but its most intriguing elements are often drowned out by uneven execution.
Akito is a regular young man, hovering between life and death after a motorcycle accident, until his body is unceremoniously hijacked by a spirit named KK. Since Akito isn’t quite done with his body, the two are forced into an uneasy alliance — bodymates, if you will.
KK’s arrival is well timed, as Tokyo has just been blanketed by a mysterious fog that separates human souls from their bodies, leaving their ghostly apparitions to float between skyscrapers and through rooftop gardens.
Though his spectral partner is focused on the disastrous fog, Akito has his own motives: His sister Mari is lying defenseless and unconscious in a hospital. He has to get to her, and cooperating with KK is the only way to make it happen, thanks to the malicious demons now prowling the streets.
In exchange for taking up meat space, KK provides Akito with the ability to cast elemental magic from his fingertips. The powers equate, vaguely, to classic first-person shooter archetypes: Wind can be fired quickly from your fingertips, water has a broader, shotgun-like arc, and the fire spell is an explosive blast with a wide area of effect.
Though Ghostwire: Tokyo may be metaphorically in line with a typical first-person shooter, it doesn’t feel much like one. Controls feel sluggish and swimmy to an extent that I
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