Death Stranding 2: On The Beach review – both more and less radical than its divisive forebear

A busier, louder, and more emotionally resplendent take on this singular hiking sim.

We open with a scene of touching paternal intimacy. Sam Porter Bridges is sitting with a baby strapped to his chest, at the top of a mountain in northern Mexico. The young child is Lou (BB of the first Death Stranding), no longer attached to Sam in a creepy jar but a regular baby carrier. The pair’s hands touch, one big, one small, the deftly rendered physical contact framed by a gigantic powder-blue sky and a panoramic landscape riven by deep rocky gorges. Sam picks himself up, seeming to dance fleet-footed all the way down the spindly, photorealistic ridges in front of him. As he runs, sometimes bounding, Lou giggles with delight.

Death Stranding 2: On the Beach reviewPublisher: Sony Computer EntertainmentDeveloper: Kojima ProductionsPlatform: Played on PS5Availability: Out 26th June on PS5.

So begins Death Stranding 2: On The Beach, the sequel to writer-director Hideo Kojima’s divisive sci-fi epic of 2019. Every inch of the multitudinous original seemed to teem with meaning. It was a critique of the gig economy, a send-up of social media, and a powerful meditation on environmental disaster. The follow-up is both more and less ambitious. Kojima doubles down on the metaphysical strangeness of his storytelling while, somewhat surprisingly, foregrounding more conventional aspects of his work, like the stealth and action scenarios which defined the Metal Gear series. (Whisper it, there are moments when Death Stranding 2 plays like the spiritual successor to 2015’s Metal Gear Solid V: Phantom Pain.)

Make no mistake, though. This game unequivocally embraces its sequel status. It’s bigger, brighter, and more accessible. It also sees Kojima, now in his 60s, stepping into a new role. He’s not just modern video games’ postmodern prophet and arch stylist, he has become its preeminent sentimentalist.

The more overtly emotional tone is immediately apparent. Sam lives with Lou, who is now 11 months old, in the off-grid wilds of Mexico. Their home, a state-of-the-art bunker, is awash with the lower-tech paraphernalia of child-rearing: high chair, cot, furry animals, and building blocks. Sweet photos of father and daughter adorn the walls and fridge door. But within minutes, this picture of domestic bliss is interrupted by Léa Seydoux returning as the enigmatic Fragile. She has a mission for Sam. He needs to connect Mexico to the spooky, supercharged internet known as the chiral network.