Ghost of Tsushima Takes a Different Stance On Morality
Exploring the grey areas of morality and the harrowing position it causes for players
Usually, morality systems in video games sway player behavior towards one of two distinct paths: either you’re good or you’re bad. In Ghost of Tsushima, created by Sucker Punch Productions (the developer behind the Infamous games, where player-choice was bound to such rigid dualisms as valor versus villainy), they put aside their tried-and-true morality system for a narrative scheme that’s far less branching.
The game still forces the player to confront the consequences of their bad behavior. And similar to Jin Sakai, Ghost of Tsushima’s stealthy katana-wielding protagonist, who bucks tradition for the radical path, the player’s own conscience must evaluate if the right thing is being done. As a result, while the game lacks a true scale for weighing good or bad actions, the narrative itself plays out as a kind of morality test.
In contrast to Infamous Second Son, the story and gameplay in Ghost of Tsushima are not affected by dialogue choices or split-second decisions on whether to kill or subdue enemies. These choices, all part of Infamous’ karma system, decide whether your main character went out as a hero or as a villain.
But despite its name, only 19.9% of players (based on current PlayStation trophy stats) chose to finish Second Son with Evil Karma, earning them the “Infamous” rank. The majority of players (37%) were, instead, like me and chose Good Karma, thus achieving the status of “True Hero.” Of course, Infamous is not representative of all morality based games, but it does give us an idea of the route most players would take when asked to make a choice between good or evil.
Sucker Punch carries over this notoriety inspired leveling-up system into Ghost of Tsushima. As Jin’s “legend” grows, so do his skills. Jin’s capacity to carry more weapons is unlocked and his health and his ability to heal are improved. Unlike Infamous though, these abilities are not tied to morality but they are, however, still expressed by choice.
In a samurai culture defined by its tenets — tradition, courage, honor — the “Ghost” (Jin’s ninja-like persona) is the antithesis of everything a warrior should stand for.
Raised by Lord Shimura, Jin’s uncle and jito (a kind of feudal landlord), after his father was killed by bandits, Jin has devoted his life to his uncle’s dogmatic way of the samurai. An upbringing that has caused Jin to close himself off to any outside beliefs and practices, which is at the crux of Ghost of Tsushima’s moral dilemmas.
In Act I, after the samurai of Tsushima Island are utterly annihilated by Mongol invaders, Jin, alone, is burdened to uphold their code. The task proves difficult though, because how can Jin fight with honor and courage when the enemy could just stab him in the back or burn him alive? All disgraceful tactics, according to Lord Shimura, are fueled by anger and gives rise to fear.
“Look him in the eye… and take his life,” Lord Shimura says in a vision after Jin assassinates his first Mongol brute. The stealth kill plays out as anyone would expect: sneak behind the enemy, press the button being prompted, and perform the action.
What comes as a shocker, though, for anyone who was expecting shades of Infamous, at least, is that the option to subdue or incapacitate the enemy has been eliminated. Jin has acted unexpectedly and has taken a life dishonorably, like the very thieves and bandits he despises; and you made him do it. But does that make Jin, or the person holding the controller, feel any less heroic?
Sucker Punch has dropped the morality system, yet the fundamentals of one still operate as usual in Ghost of Tsushima. Jin’s first assassination is not the cleanest; it’s a gruesome display of stabs, as Jin plunges a dagger into the Mongol’s neck, then follows it up with an excess of pokes to the enemy’s body. Jin is visibly distraught after, and it makes the player uneasy as well.
As someone who always plays “good” in morality games, I found myself not wanting to press “square”. There had to be a workaround, I thought, but there wasn’t. Jin’s first stealth kill was necessary to progress the story.
Prior to this mission, I had already bought into Jin’s relationship with his uncle. His devotion to the samurai code was admirable enough to make me not want to deviate from it. I planned to play through the game as authentic to the samurai as possible. A path that meant infiltrating Mongol bases head-on and entering standoffs that usually ended with a 1v1 against the camp’s leader. I would look the enemy in the eye and defeat them — with honor and courage.
I was quickly frustrated by my choice, though. My button presses in standoffs were poorly timed, and enemies quickly overran me. Also, the thought of just using Jin’s katana felt like a disservice to my combat experience. I couldn’t help but think of how the sticky bomb or kunai made fights a lot easier. The game tempted me to become the Ghost. I was free to use weapons that did not align with the samurai code, but it would come at a cost of my personal moral integrity.
Sucker Punch’s typical morality test is less a gameplay mechanic now and more internalized. Instead of waiting for cues to make good or bad decisions, players must make them on the fly.
Although Jin’s transformation into the Ghost is inevitable — the last rank is literally “The Ghost of Tsushima” — you organically approach that final destination anyway, either because it’s easier to finish the game by implementing stealth tactics or because you found the unyielding dogmas of the samurai way to be flawed.
This move away from a traditional morality system also reveals Sucker Punch’s understanding that good and evil are not such neat categories to box their characters in. It’s the moral grey area that’s far more interesting to explore.
Jin makes a truly abominable decision in the game’s third act: he ultimately saves the lives of hundreds of his people, but at the cost of the love and respect of Lord Shimura. I felt like a delusional villain afterward, trying to convince myself that the ends justify the means. So I tried to repent by reflecting at hot springs, writing haikus, winning standoffs, and bowing after every kill.
Jin’s, and the player’s, moral angst builds up towards the game’s final act, where they’re faced with the ultimate test: Jin must defeat his uncle in a duel, then decide whether to honor his wish of a righteous samurai death or to spare him. It’s Ghost of Tsushima’s only proper choice mechanic, and although it’s cleverly disguised as a decision between a good or a bad ending — either to spare a life or to take one, respectively — it’s more complicated than that.
It’s a truly palpable moment and one where Sucker Punch asks players to pay attention to what they’ve been doing the entire game. If you felt that Jin still believed in the samurai, then you must take your uncle’s life, making what seemed to be a bad choice the complete opposite. Or if you’ve sincerely adopted the Ghost as a more logical and realistic philosophy, then you must walk away from Lord Shimura, completely disavowing a life of honor.
The latter is technically the bad choice, but it’s a choice I felt was the right one. When faced with the option, I never play evil, however, Ghost of Tsushima changed my perception of what classified as bad behavior. As Jin, I left Lord Shimura bloodied but alive, nurturing a slash wound I’ve just dealt; then, I rolled credits as The Ghost of Tsushima: a menace to the samurai, but a savior to the people.
