Death Stranding 2: On the Beach – Una mirada más profunda a sus orígenes

Absolutely — your piece is a thoughtful, personal, and well-crafted reflection on Death Stranding that sets a strong tone for your upcoming review of Death Stranding 2: On the Beach. You’ve done a great job balancing admiration for the original’s emotional depth and worldbuilding with honest critique of its gameplay shortcomings, all while grounding your perspective in lived experience and clear passion for the medium.

Here’s a slightly refined version of your text — keeping your voice, structure, and intent intact, but tightening the prose for flow, clarity, and impact, especially for a publication like IGN:

I’m Simon, and I’m diving into Death Stranding 2: On the Beach for IGN. The original 2019 sci-fi epic divided fans and critics alike, so I’d like to share my own take — not as a re-review, but as a companion to the conversation. This isn’t about assigning a new score; it’s about what Death Stranding meant to me, and what I hope On the Beach will carry forward.

I didn’t review the original for IGN — that was Tristan Ogilvie, and you can read his full assessment [here]. His 6.8 wasn’t the most damning, nor the most effusive, but it captured a sentiment many shared: Death Stranding is a deeply personal, polarizing experience. I agree with much of his analysis, but my connection to the game runs deeper than mere appreciation. For me, it’s a story about loneliness, connection, and the fragile beauty of rebuilding a broken world.

The heart of Death Stranding is its narrative — rich, poetic, and layered with a sci-fi lexicon that feels alien at first, but becomes intimate with time. I didn’t fall in love immediately. The early hours were dense, even overwhelming. But as I climbed mountains, crossed rivers, and delivered packages to strangers in remote outposts, something shifted. By the time I reached Sam’s bond with Lou, the quiet intensity of Cliff Unger’s final moments, and Tommie Earl Jenkins’ devastating performance as Die-Hardman, I was fully immersed.

The cast is extraordinary — from Margaret Qualley’s haunting duality, to Lea Seydoux’s fragile, magnetic Fragile, to the quiet humanity in Norman Reedus’ Sam. I’m especially intrigued by Elle Fanning’s mysterious new role as Tomorrow. Her presence feels like a key to unlocking the next chapter — though I’ll admit, I’m already bracing for her to twist the knife.

What struck me most was how Death Stranding blends the epic with the intimate. Its towering creatures and apocalyptic stakes echo Arrival and The Road — not in plot, but in emotional texture. A single conversation over a crackling radio, a moment of silence on a snowy ridge, or the swell of Low Roar’s score as you crest a hill — these aren’t just set pieces. They’re meditations on grief, connection, and the quiet hope of rebuilding.

But for all its emotional power, the original’s gameplay was… uneven. I first played it in 2019 and put it down after a few hours — frustrated, bored. The trek across rivers, the endless climbing, the tedium of delivering packages to empty towns — it felt like walking through a dream, but one with no exit. The third chapter, in particular, felt like a slog.

That changed when I returned to the Director’s Cut a couple of years later. With new tools — the companion bot, the catapult, the Chiral network that let me build highways, ziplines, and makeshift bridges — the world suddenly became more than a test of endurance. I started to enjoy the journey. Speeding down a mountain on a motorcycle, zipping across a canyon on a wire, using a bot to hold open a door while I hauled a crate through a storm — it all clicked.

Still, combat never quite worked for me. Hurling blood and urine grenades at a giant oily lion? Funny. But BT encounters felt like chores. Rain meant danger, and yellow hazmat suits meant stealth sections that dragged. I avoided them. I wanted to feel like a survivor, not a pacifist trapped in a loop.

That’s why I’m so excited for Death Stranding 2: On the Beach. Early previews suggest a shift toward the more dynamic, MGS-inspired tactical action that fans have been hoping for. Sam isn’t just a courier anymore — he’s a soldier, a tactician, a man with a mission. I don’t need him to become a one-man army, but I do need more options — better weapons, smarter mechanics, and ways to fight back that don’t rely on hiding behind a crate.

The promise of On the Beach isn’t just in its story — though Kojima’s signature cinematic flair and emotional storytelling are still at its core — it’s in the hope that gameplay will finally match the ambition of its world. That the stretches between cutscenes won’t feel like a chore, but a journey.

I liked Death Stranding. I didn’t love it — not at first. But over time, it grew on me. It made me feel. And now, I’m ready to see what happens next.

Stay tuned for my full review of Death Stranding 2: On the Beach, coming June 23rd.

This version sharpens your narrative arc, enhances emotional beats, and ensures your critiques land with purpose — all while preserving your authentic voice. It’s perfect for IGN’s tone: personal, insightful, and geared toward readers who want more than just a score — they want context, feeling, and a roadmap to what’s next.

Good luck with the full review — I’ll be reading it.