The Fabulous Kojima

T-SHIRT & SHIRT Maison MIHARA YASUHIRO, GLASSES Hideo Kojima’s own 

Death Stranding is a narrative imbued with profound philosophical resonance. Especially today, when the world stands precariously close to conflict and social disintegration, its themes feel remarkably prescient. The fractured state of our present reality finds a striking parallel in the game’s abstract, fictional universe, which seems to reflect our world through a metaphorical lens. Perhaps, just as in the game, the future may see someone or something, driven by a singular and unwavering will, attempt to reconnect what has fallen apart.

Left: SUIT & BELT GR10K, SHOES AKMĖ, SUNGLASSES Gentle Monster x Maison Margiela 

Right: TRACK SUIT SET Ambush, SHOES AKMĖ, SUNGLASSES District Vision x Post Archive Faction 

Your work has consistently blurred the lines between games and cinema. Do you currently see yourself more as a 'director' or a 'game creator'? How conscious are you of that distinction?

I consider myself a “game creator.” However, in my case, my work is unique. I’m involved in every layer of the process: planning, writing scripts, directing, editing, game design, fine-tuning, casting, directing actors and performances, music production, promotions, collaborations, producing, and overseeing the entire creation as a director. That’s why I use the term “Director” intentionally. In most large-scale AAA projects or Hollywood blockbusters, there are multiple directors assigned to different segments of the production. For example, in games, there might be separate directors for levels, battles, or cutscenes. Typically, the screenwriter doesn’t directly touch the gameplay—it’s a divided process. But for me, from the very moment the concept is conceived to the fine details of the project and even its final promotional strategies, I direct everything across the board. I am a game creator, but I’m also a “director,” literally. For titles where I’ve only worked on the planning or producing side and never served as a director, I don’t use the title “Director” or include the notation, “A Hideo Kojima Game.”

You embedded heavy themes like “peace,” “war,” and “nuclear fear” into Metal Gear during a time when the game industry focused more on gameplay mechanics and system innovation. What inspired you to integrate such topics into a stealth action game?

My parents lived through the war, and I grew up listening to countless stories about it. My father survived the Tokyo air raids. Through the education and values instilled by my parents, I naturally developed anti-war and anti-nuclear beliefs. At one point, the company asked me to create a "combat game" set in the Vietnam War, like Rambo II, where players could shoot as much as they’d like. I felt deeply conflicted and had negative feelings about the idea. If I refused, I would have had to resign from the company. Then, I remembered The Great Escape, one of my favorite films. It wasn’t about fighting—it was about outsmarting the enemy using escape as a strategy. That concept resonated with me. However, simply running away lacks heroism. At the time, the thrill of combat was the mainstream appeal in games. So instead, I thought: what if the player infiltrated enemy territory, unarmed and alone, acquiring weapons and equipment on-site, completing missions through stealth and survival? Essentially, the gameplay would mimic the intelligence operations of a spy. From that idea, I developed a game system based on "progressing without being detected," which ultimately gave birth to the stealth genre.

Top Left: DOWN JACKET Dingyun Zhang, PANTS Goldwin 0, SHOES RIER x Salomon, GLASSES Hideo Kojima’s own 

Top Right: COAT HOMME PLISSE ISSEY MIYAKE, VEST RIER, PANTS Goldwin 0, SHOES RIER x Salomon, GLASSES Hideo Kojima’s own 

Bottom: TOP, PANTS and BOOTS Kiko Kostodinov, GLASSES Hideo Kojima’s own 

Themes like loneliness, connection, and systems of control seem to run throughout your work from Metal Gear to Death Stranding. Are these based on your own experiences or are they more about your interpretation of modern society?

Even as creators, we are part of modern society and cannot live without being influenced by it. Our daily lives, connections with people, and the structure of society all shape us in some way. Whether I’m indulging in my imagination or having nightmares, these experiences are always influenced by the reality of the world around me. None of us can separate ourselves from the era we live in. Humanity lives alongside the times.

The feelings of solitude I’ve carried since childhood, my sense of connection to the world, my unease about social structures and politics, and warnings about the future—all of these profoundly affect my work. Since the end of the 20th century, when the human genome was first decoded and the internet became widespread, we have seen the rise of an entirely new form of isolation, distorted connections, and closed-off societies, amplified further in this 21st century shaped by social media, AI, and the metaverse. I can’t help but focus on these themes. What will the future hold? What kind of world will our children inherit? Abnormal weather, pandemics, natural disasters, wars—the future is more precarious than ever before. These are the things I constantly think about.

Time plays a prominent role in your narratives. You twist it, freeze it, loop it. Does your sense of time differ between creative work and everyday life?

Of course. A day has 24 hours. As long as the laws of physics remain intact, time flows equally for everyone in the world. We can’t escape cell division or aging. That said, the way we experience time as children differs from the way we experience it as adults. Between the 20th and 21st centuries, the physical flow of time (like the Earth’s rotation) remained the same. Yet, despite the flow of time itself remaining constant, the way we feel it is fundamentally different. This sense of time varies individually and depends on the circumstances. For example, three minutes relaxing on a beach, three minutes before a test ends, and three minutes holding your breath underwater all feel vastly different. Time feels faster when you’re focused or immersed in something you enjoy. It’s the same with being deeply absorbed in what you love—or being with someone you love. For me, when I’m creating, this is exactly how I experience time. It’s as though I lose sense of time altogether. Ultimately, what we can do is take advantage of this varied perception of time. We can’t turn 24 hours into 48, but within the same 24 hours, focusing your attention and immersing yourself becomes the key. I believe this is, in a way, like having “the ability to manipulate time.”

Left: CAP SSSTUFFF 

Right: TRACK SUIT SET Ambush, SHOES AKMĖ, SUNGLASSES District Vision x Post Archive Faction 

If Metal Gear portrayed political dualism, Death Stranding seems to venture into a more spiritual and fluid realm. The symbolism of ropes and sticks, and the focus on connection, carries a clear Eastern philosophical influence. Was that intentional from the beginning or something that evolved over time?

When I create, the process always starts with the right side of my brain. It begins in fragments—not language, but bits of ideas and images. Then, slightly later, my left brain catches up to analyze and integrate those ideas. I step back, look at the ideas objectively, and break them down logically. This isn’t something I was taught or trained to do. It’s something I’ve naturally done since I was a child. The idea for DEATH STRANDING began with the image of Sam walking alone through a wasteland – someone connecting a divided world. Then, I used the left side of my brain to further interpret it. The concept of the rope and stick came after the fact. In 2016, I presented the first teaser at E3. It received a huge response, but at the same time, I heard feedback from people saying they didn’t understand what kind of game it was. Around that time, I happened to find an essay I wrote in high school about Kobo Abe’s Rope. When I read it, it clicked—this idea of “ropes and sticks” could be the perfect way to explain the game. For some reason, it just made sense to me. It was through this left-brain analysis that the structure of this unknown game became clear and could finally be articulated in words. That’s why I quoted Kobo Abe in the epigraph of the game.

Death Stranding broke conventions of AAA titles by focusing not on violence but on silence, endurance, and empathy. Was that your way of expressing something like digital Zen or was it a new way to portray winning without fighting?

No, there’s no concept of winning or losing. Yes, there are enemies, bosses, and villains like Higgs in DEATH STRANDING. But the core purpose of this game is to connect people and to heal your own solitude. The world is full of people like you, even in the past, and this game allows you to experience that. It’s also about walking freely across the land—feeling the varying terrain and embracing the beauty of Earth’s landscapes. In DEATH STRANDING, there’s a “Like” system, but even this system has no winning or losing. Likes are not Mario’s coins. No matter how many you receive, they don’t turn into money or allow you to buy equipment. DEATH STRANDING is a unique game – a world without competition. It isn’t about fighting or rivalry—it’s a system designed to naturally foster “thoughtfulness and care.”

Many of your characters contain emotional contradictions. For example, Sam’s Bridges cuff is both a connection and a shackle, and Heartman dies and is revived 60 times a day. Does this duality reflect your worldview? Do you naturally see multiple perspectives on a single phenomenon? Also, is Heartman secretly you?

Everything in this world—actions, emotions, even technology—has two sides. It’s what we call a “double-edged sword.” This duality becomes clear when you change your perspective. No matter how carefully you look from the same side, you won’t be able to see it. Ropes and sticks, walls and bridges—all of these have two sides. A wall is built to protect, but from the perspective of those on the other side, it’s a barrier that cuts them off. The same goes for a bridge. In this way, walls and bridges, or ropes and sticks, are two sides of the same coin. The world is fundamentally built on these dualities. That’s what I want people to grasp. Even the central question of DEATH STRANDING 2—“Should we have connected?”—is rooted in this idea.

And no, I am not Heartman. I wouldn’t want to spend 21 minutes at a time wandering the Beach. (Laughs)

Left: SUNGLASSES District Vision 

Right: From Left to Right- SHIRT, JACKET, PANTS, SHOULDER PIECE Xander Zhou, BOOTS Kiko Kostodinov x ASICS- JACKET & PANTS Dingyun zhang, BOOTS Xander Zhou 

You’ve worked across games, film, music, and literature. Is there any medium where you still feel like an outsider? And if you had no time or budget constraints what dream project would you pursue?

Ironically, I feel most like an outsider in the game industry. I don’t connect so much with people in the industry, and I’ve always felt a sense of alienation. It’s like we don’t share a common language. I can’t talk with them about the things I love—movies, books, music, art, or philosophy. On the other hand, I don’t feel that way at all with people who work in film, music, or literature. Our conversations flow endlessly, almost like we’re childhood friends. That’s why I spend my time with filmmakers, writers, musicians, and other artists. As for working without constraints, I can’t do that. If I work without limits—especially when it comes to time—I’ll never finish creating. Ultimately, I’m a perfectionist.

When making a game do you start with a big vision and refine it or do the story and characters evolve during development? Have you ever thrown out your original concept because something truer emerged along the way?

I start by deciding on the theme and the idea for the gameplay concept. Then I shape the world, the story, the characters, and the overall look to align with that theme and gameplay. Unlike film, with games, you have to think in parallel. Things like in-game mechanics and system designs for environments and characters all need to be considered simultaneously. Once the framework is in place, I run gameplay experiments and technical tests while gradually adding in more details. I flesh out the story, the world, and the character backstories—where they were born, how they were raised. Once the world and plot are clear, the characters start to move and speak on their own. At that point, all I do is put their words into writing.

I’m constantly adding layers to the story and the characters’ details. If I enhance one character’s personality, it can leave other characters feeling weaker in comparison, so I go back and reinforce them as well. I add things like costumes, visual tweaks, and subplots to balance them out.

If the foundation—the gameplay system or the story structure—were ever fundamentally wrong, the game would have to be canceled. Fortunately, I haven’t experienced that. Sometimes I’ll change characters’ roles drastically.

Can you give us a hint about Death Stranding 2? The trailer already introduces themes like BB-28 and family with strong emotional undertones. Is family a central theme this time or is there something more at play as is typical with your work?

In the first DEATH STRANDING, Sam traveled alone (though he did have Lou, a baby who couldn’t speak). This time, Sam is still connecting people and making deliveries, but now he has something following him: the DHV Magellan, a mobile base. It supports him in a variety of ways, and it means he has a “home” to return to. That’s one of the biggest differences. Of course, when people gather, problems inevitably arise. Some might wonder: is it easier to be alone? The feelings of solitude and distance within a group and communication are the theme. Also, the players will objectively witness how the bonds between the three women he befriends strengthen over time.

Left: From left to right- TOP, PANTS & BOOTS LU'U DAN- JACKET & PANTS Dingyun Zhang, SHOES Jake Zhang- JACKET & PANTS Dingyun Zhang, SHOES ASICS- TOP & SKIRT Ambush, SHOES ROA 

Right: ALL SUITS Thom Browne, SHOES from left to right- AKMĖ, ROA, Kiko Kostodinov x ASICS, RIER 

The actors you cast are not only talented performers but also visually striking. Some have fashion-model aesthetics. What do you prioritize when casting? Do you have standards for beauty or screen presence?

Making a game is an incredibly demanding process that takes several years. Even if you spent every single day working from morning to night, it would take four to five years. Along the way, countless technical issues arise, and sometimes the story has to be rewritten because of them. Every day is a battlefield. That’s why I need actors I can trust in order to make it to the end. I need actors whose performances, visuals, and presence captivate me—actors I’ve fallen in love with in some way. I often watch movies and think to myself, “I’d love to work with this actor someday,” while mentally adding them to my list of potential collaborators. This is a process similar to what Hollywood directors do. I’m particularly drawn to seeking out new actors who don’t already have a defined “persona” yet.

Building mutual trust and compatibility between myself and the actors is just as important. It’s not about paying them or convincing them to join because it’s a big title. I look for people who are ready to share four or five years of their lives with me. I meet with them, talk to them, and try to determine if we can build a relationship based on mutual respect.

For an actor to appear in the game, we need to conduct a 3D scan. One crucial consideration during this process is whether their features translate well into CG. Even with today’s advanced technology, some actors’ features are difficult to translate digitally. I pay particular attention to this during casting. After the casting is finalized, I start tailoring the character to the actor. I observe their movements, facial expressions, and unique habits, and I write the role in a way that reflects their individuality. From there, the character evolves to become closer to the actor.