WORLD-BUILDING THE EDGE OF JAPAN FOR GHOST OF YOTEI

World-building always begins with the same idea. “It’s not only about how the world looks, but what we want the player to feel,” Wang states. “Art, gameplay, culture and mood all have to work together. The environment should guide the player, support the story, respect the land, and still carry our emotional, artistic voice. This time, with Ghost of Yōtei, the approach evolved because the map itself is different. We divided the island into six distinct regions, each with its own look, emotion, and even gameplay rhythm. We designed each region with a sense of build-up, a shift in tone and atmosphere as players cross into new areas. The core methodology stayed the same, but the scale and structure of Yōtei pushed us to think more deeply about regional identity and how the world grows with the player’s journey.”

Guiding the visual language was a particular phrase coined by co-directors Nate Fox and Jason Connell. “I remember very early on, the phrase they used was ‘The edge of Japan,’” Wang remarks. “It instantly captures the feeling of wild, mysterious, untamed land with so many stories waiting to be told.” Dealing with the scale of Hokkaido was the most immediate challenge. “Those open fields that stretch forever, forests that swallow the light, and snow mountains that rise like giants on the horizon. It stretched both vertically and horizontally. It’s beautiful, but also incredibly intimidating. That scale pushed us in every direction. Gameplay had to adapt because encounters work differently when players can see danger from a mile away. Rendering had to adapt, since showing that much land, sky and shifting weather without breaking the game became a major technical hurdle. Art had to adapt too. We had to make those massive spaces feel intentional and emotional, not empty. It wasn’t easy, but that’s what made it exciting. Those challenges shaped Yōtei into something bold and new.”

Locations were scouted in Japan, such as national parks, remote wild areas and Matsumae Castle. “We even spent time with an Ainu family, foraging, cooking, learning how they honor nature and seeing how they design fabric,” Wang recalls. “We visited their museum to better understand their history. The team brought back tons of photos and videos for reference, but honestly, the most important thing we brought back is memory. What we saw, what we heard, what we felt, even what we tasted in Hokkaido. The way wind moves through bamboo grass, the texture of old tree bark, the sound of birds echoing across open fields. Those sensory moments stayed with us and became the emotional foundation of our world. Also, same as we did for Ghost of Tsushima, we worked closely with Japanese cultural advisors every step of the way. They guided us, corrected us and helped ensure our interpretation stayed respectful and authentic. All of that: those experiences, those feelings and that collaboration shaped the heart of the world you see in the game.”

Narrative, mood, emotion and gameplay feed into one another. “The narrative, mood and emotion set the tone for how the world should feel – lonely, hopeful, dangerous, peaceful – and that feeling becomes the backbone of our world-building,” Wang explains. “Gameplay then shapes the rhythm, where tension builds, where players can breathe, where the world needs to open up or tighten in. But it also works the other way. For example, memory swap changes the environment and can quietly nudge the narrative in a new direction just by one push of a button. For us, none of these pieces stand alone. Mood shapes the world, gameplay shapes the flow, and the world answers back with new ideas. That push and pull is what makes the world feel alive, and why everything feels connected when you step into Yōtei.”

An important aspect of gaming is creating environments that players want to explore. “For me, the real trick is curiosity through contrast,” Wang remarks. “Giving the world small moments that tug at you. A single red tree burning on a distant hill, a strange rock silhouette that feels like an animal, or a weathered gate standing alone at the edge of a forest; little things that make you wonder, ‘What’s over there?’ And then the world gently guides you. The wind kicks in and hints you toward your next destination. A patch of white flowers that give your horse a boost. A bird suddenly appears, inviting you to follow and discover something hidden. When the world feels alive like that, full of tiny invitations and quiet mysteries, players explore, not because they’re told to but because their heart pulls them forward.”

Shrines are an integral part of the spiritual life in Japan. “With a map as big and rich as Yōtei, the shrines were our chance to show players the world from a different perspective,” Wang explains. “We treated each shrine like a little stage, a pocket of the world with its own personality. Maybe it’s perched on a mountaintop with the whole valley unfolding beneath you, or tucked by a misty lake where everything feels soft and quiet, or on the coastal rock where wind hits hard and waves crash beneath your feet. We wanted players to pause, take a breath and just feel each place. Also, every shrine needed its own journey, a traversal challenge that fit its vibe. Some build upward, some stretch sideways, some tease you with a view before making you work for it. The fun part was letting the landscape lead us, finding those special spots where the world already felt magical, then designing a shrine that brings that magic to life.”

In order to emotionally engage players, the visuals had to feel like a living painting. “To get there, we leaned heavily into shape, color and motion,” Wang states. “Clear silhouettes that read instantly. Bold color palettes that set the mood the moment you enter a space. And natural-motion-made wind sweeping through grass, snow drifting off branches, mist rolling across the hills and birds singing through the sky. All of these layers stack together to bring the world to life.” Visuals are not meant to be distracting. Wang adds, “At the same time, we’re constantly simplifying, stripping away anything that doesn’t matter, from big picture layout to small detailed texture level. The important things can stand out – your path, your goal and the emotional beat of the moment. When it all comes together, the world stops feeling like a level and starts feeling like a living painting.”