Note: This feature contains spoilers about Sifu’s plot and ending. I recommend you finish the game first before reading.
Sifu is a game about revenge. The opening moments see you in control of the villainous Yang, as his gang murders the father of the game’s protagonist. After that tragic death, you assume control of the unnamed hero. From that moment on, every move you make, every life you take, and every clue you add to your detective board are all in service of vengeance against the crew that orphaned you. But when you make your way through the ranks and end Yang’s life the same way he ended your father’s, you might feel unsatisfied. That’s because Sifu isn’t a game about revenge as a means to an end. Instead, it demonstrates that violence simply isn’t the answer. As I found the path to Sifu’s true ending, I learned a lesson in mercy through strength and discipline.
I came around a few different curves while playing Sifu. First there was the challenge of simply learning the ropes. I grasped the basics of Sifu’s systems and brute-forced my way through the first level or two, cheesing bosses and using as many shortcuts as I could find because I didn’t know any better way to win. Then, I found a new satisfaction in playing the way Sifu was meant to be played, with well-timed dodges, parries, and counters that got me through levels with far fewer deaths and way more martial arts moments straight out of the movies. The third revelation, however, was in discovering and practicing mercy the game wanted me to utilize. This was the greatest victory of all.
The first time you beat the final boss Yang, you get a brief, hollow ending. No credits roll. It’s clear that something is missing, and that thing is mercy. Revenge is only
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