I went into Ninja Gaiden 4 with the same wary curiosity I had when I first booted up Bayonetta 3: could that distinctive Team Ninja bite coexist with PlatinumGames’ hyper-precise swagger? After 17 hours on Normal difficulty (PS5, Performance mode), chasing side missions and collectibles and getting thrashed by a few optional arenas, my answer is a messy yes. The combat is ferocious and brilliantly tuned for aggression. The parts surrounding it? They range from “serviceable” to “did someone really greenlight this stealth section?”
For context, I’ve finished the old trilogy multiple times (Ninja Gaiden Black runs still haunt my muscle memory), and I still dip into Nioh/Nioh 2 when I crave friction. I’m also a sucker for Platinum’s timing windows and attack clarity. Ninja Gaiden 4, featuring new protagonist Yakumo alongside the legend Ryu Hayabusa, isn’t just a reunion-it’s an arm-wrestle. The good news: the arm-wrestle happens to be one of the best-feeling action systems I’ve touched in years.
By the end of the first evening-about four hours in-the game had taught me two truths. One: if you turtle, you die. Two: you should be spending your resources constantly. Yakumo’s kit is engineered for forward momentum, and the design refuses to let you hoard your advantages. The Blood Magic gauge (used for weapon transformations) fills fast and empties between engagements, and the separate Berserker meter—flip it and basic enemies pop like water balloons—nudges you to pull the trigger, not save it for that “one perfect moment” that never arrives.
What struck me immediately is how executions are communicated. There’s no glowing icon over a staggered enemy’s head. Instead, vulnerability is telegraphed by what’s missing: arms and legs. A severed limb isn’t just gory decoration—it’s a state check. See the stump, go for the finisher. It keeps your eyes on the actual bodies rather than a HUD light show, and that quiet shift in attention is a big deal once the screen is chaos.
I warmed to Yakumo faster than I expected. He’s a blank slate narratively, but in your hands he’s elastic and mean. Your defensive options—parries, perfectly timed dodges, and guard breaks—are tuned to reward intent, not hesitation. A clean parry gives a meaty counter window; a perfect dodge slides you into someone’s blind spot with enough time to pivot into a launcher. There’s no single “right” defensive answer, and that variety kept me from leaning on a single crutch.
The weapon lineup grows at a pace that respects learning. Early on, the staff becomes the obvious crowd control king. Later, a rapier unlocks and turns single-target duels into surgical duets. Add in the classic ninja tools for aerial pests, and you can fluidly swap to suit the room. Where the game gets spicy is with Blood Magic transformations: a brutal drill attachment that chews through armored torsos, and an extending katana that lets you tag slippery targets without breaking tempo. The cadence I fell into by hour 10 was intoxicating—dash in, bait a swing, perfect dodge, instant drill activation to shred a shield, switch to rapier, carve a limb, finish. It feels choreographed without feeling scripted.
One thing Ninja Gaiden 4 nails—and this is where Platinum’s fingerprints show—is the clarity of attack tells without slowing the pace. Even when three enemy types overlap, the animations read cleanly. When you die (and you will), it’s usually because you misread a tell or got greedy, not because the game lied to you. That said, I noticed enemy AI oscillates between opportunistic and spacey from fight to fight. Sometimes a group will encircle and pressure like seasoned killers; other times a gunner stares at a wall while you disassemble his friends. The inconsistency doesn’t break encounters, but it’s there.
About six hours in, I wandered into my first Purgatory arena—the game’s capital-H Hard combat rooms—and got wrecked. The first attempt was hubris; the second was timing practice; the third clicked when I embraced the game’s philosophy: spend everything. Once I started treating Blood Magic as “borrowed time,” I found the flow. These arenas became my favorite part of the loop, a place to sharpen before re-entering the mainline missions. The reward isn’t a dramatic stat spike; it’s better habits.
Exploration feeds that loop nicely. Side missions are tucked off the main path, and they’re worth the detour. Accessories offer small but appreciated perks, there’s a drip-feed of health bumps, and your wallet swells quickly. Too quickly, actually. Money flows so freely you rarely have to choose between upgrades—you can just get everything. That feels good in the moment, but it undermines the thrill of a hard decision at a shop. Worse, the checkpoint logic around hub vendors is off: the game saves your state before you go shopping, not after. I died in the next combat arena and had to redo the same shopping list three times. It’s a small thing that becomes a big irritation when you’re already salty.
Level variety is fine on paper—cityscapes, mountain caves, occult temples—but the actual traversal takes a hit from the infamous “yellow paint” signposting. In a strict, linear action game, painting every grab ledge with highlighter feels at odds with the rest of the presentation’s confidence. It’s not broken; it’s just… loud. The rail-surfing/QTE sequences try to break up the tempo, but they run long and don’t develop mechanically. And the stealth interludes? They exist. I did them. I wished they were skipped cutscenes.
On human-sized opponents, the system sings. On larger monsters, it occasionally clears its throat and loses the tune. Midgame, the enemy roster introduces beefier creatures with health pools that feel padded. That alone isn’t a crime—every action game leans into bruiser mini-bosses—but Ninja Gaiden 4 mixes in a small dose of randomness around dismemberment procs, so two of the same enemy type can melt in one string or soak five combos before the “remove a limb, get a finisher” flow appears. When it happens back-to-back, it feels capricious rather than skill-based, and that’s the one part of the combat that actually frustrated me.
When the game flips you to Ryu, it becomes a victory lap with knives. He’s tuned to feel like a legend: higher damage, better survivability, familiar moves that hit like a truck. The first time I cleared a room with Ryu in a third of the time Yakumo needed, I laughed. Then I frowned, because the structure essentially mirrors the Devil May Cry 4 “run it back” problem: Ryu retraces parts of levels and re-fights boss variants you’ve already cleared. The fan service is tasty—Muramasa’s shop, classic ninpo, demonic foes that wink at the old games—but the level recycling feels thin. It’s not a disaster, it’s just the point where the game’s ambition rubs against its schedule.
Let’s be blunt: the story is a long excuse to put you into the next arena. That can work—most action games are motors for fights—but Ninja Gaiden 4’s script is particularly dry. Yakumo and the new cast struggle to be more than archetypes. Worse, a couple of designs veer into “tacky” rather than striking, and it’s hard to latch on to a character who looks like they wandered in from a different, less tasteful game. The returning cast fares better in terms of nostalgia, but they’re underused. I counted maybe three lines from Ayane, none of which deepen the plot. The upside is that cutscenes don’t overstay their welcome, and the choreography is close enough to gameplay animation that it never feels like a bait-and-switch.
Visually, it’s a moodier take on Gaiden that pops when it needs to. The cyberpunk-tinged Tokyo district sparkles with neon grime, and it’s a highlight. The mountain cave sections, by contrast, are serviceable but drab—workmanlike corridors between great fights. What matters most is the framerate, and here it holds steady. I ran the whole campaign in Performance mode, and it felt locked at 60, which is frankly non-negotiable for this series. Effects work complements the clarity-first combat language rather than smearing over it. The audio mix packs weight—those limb-severing sounds are crunchy in a way that made my partner shout from the next room—and the soundtrack leans into thick, riff-heavy rock that could sit next to modern character action staples. There’s even a vocal track or two that made me do a double take and think, “Wait, is that the same singer from that other demon-hunting game?” Whether it is or not, the vibe lands.
Ninja Gaiden has a reputation for hostility. This one respects that heritage while making room for newcomers. I started on Normal and felt pushed without being stonewalled. Higher difficulties crank enemy aggression meaningfully. On top of that, you can self-tune challenges—there’s an option to reduce your maximum HP before certain fights for greater rewards, and the scoring system incentivizes skipping consumables. It’s a clever way to make runs about personal goals, not just checkbox achievements. The accessibility settings are robust enough to let you tailor inputs and visual feedback without sanding off the game’s rough edges, which I appreciate. This is still a sharp blade—you just get to decide how deep you want it to cut.
Progression lives mostly in your fingers, not your stats. You unlock weapons and techniques at a good clip, but raw numbers don’t spike enough to change the meta. That’s the right call for a skill-forward action game, yet it clashes with an economy that’s too generous. The shopkeepers—yes, including a familiar face—sell upgrades and consumables, and by midgame, you can basically buy the catalog. It’s empowering until it robs you of meaningful choices. The one time the economy did get interesting was when I deliberately starved myself of items for a better mission score. Suddenly I cared about every purchase again. If the game leaned into that push-pull more often, the shop loop would sing.
I was pleasantly surprised by how wide the bestiary gets: modern soldiers and rival ninja, western-style demons that nod to old Gaiden, and Youma inspired by Japanese folklore. On paper, the blend shouldn’t work—different mythologies, different vibes—but in practice it keeps fights fresh. The only snag is tonal whiplash between the sleek tech of some arenas and the grotesque occult energy of others. It’s not inconsistent so much as it is eclectic, and your mileage will vary on how that eclecticism meshes with the story’s deadpan delivery.
After credits, I dove into unlocked boss trials and a fresh difficulty run. This is where Ninja Gaiden 4 clicked into “keep installed” territory for me. The core encounter design is strong enough to survive repetition, and the scoring chases give you a tangible reason to refine routes and develop consistency. It also helps that the Purgatories remain evergreen practice yards—those rooms teach habits you carry into everything else. If you’re the kind of player who replays Bayonetta chapters for a Pure Platinum or revisits Nioh missions for no-hit trophies, you’ll find a similar loop here.
If you live for mechanical depth and the adrenaline rush of barely threading a dodge into a counter, Ninja Gaiden 4 should be near the top of your queue. It’s a glorious, unashamedly violent dance that respects your time in the arenas that matter. If you want a story with texture, characters you’ll remember, or level variety that extends beyond “what’s the next room to kill in,” you’ll bounce off the padding. The Ryu sections are a treat for series diehards but a shrug for everyone else. And if the idea of “yellow paint” parkour and bloated QTE rails makes your eye twitch, be warned—you’ll be twitching.
Ninja Gaiden 4 is the first time in a decade I’ve felt the series stand tall again. The combat is the headline, and it deserves it: a feral, precise system that rewards aggression without devolving into button mash. I rolled my eyes at the limp story, sighed at the shop checkpoint snafu, and groaned through a couple of chunky monster fights. I also replayed three missions after the credits just to push my ranks up because the knife felt that good in my hands. That’s the part that matters most.
Final score: 8/10. If you come for the fights, you’ll leave happy—and probably a little blood-spattered.
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