Beyond the Strand: music, memory, and the search for connection through Death Stranding

A photo/screenshot taken within Death Stranding 2: On the Beach, via the "Photo Mode".

This is, from the outset, a meditation on the echoes of childhood, the wonder of creative vision, and the profound impact of Hideo Kojima’s Death Stranding and its sequel, Death Stranding 2: On the Beach. It’s a love letter, born of a desire to show how art, specifically music and video games, can become a touchstone, a lens through which to navigate a fractured and often overwhelming world.

Music has been a constant companion throughout my life. Through foreign airports, extended car rides across the country, and subway rides through major cities. My love for music began with the simple joy of a very specific set of cassettes: The Best of Mozart (Mozart), The Sign (Ace of Base), and HIStory… (Michael Jackson), alongside a fascination with film score. I recall watching Jurassic Park at one point, turning to my mother and saying “John Williams makes great music”. There even exists a home video of a younger me, dancing with uninhibited enthusiasm to “Cuban Pete” from The Mask, while sending cheese flying through parmesan-shaker maracas clutched in my hands.

My enthusiasm for music only further evolved into my late childhood. The tinny sound of a 1990s Sony Stereo Cassette Player filled my bedroom as I conducted John William’s “Duel of the Fates,” alongside a makeshift orchestra within my mind. Eventually video games like Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, Soul Reaver: Legacy of Kain, and, above all, Final Fantasy 7 became formative experiences as well. I can still hear the FF7 intro theme and the blip sound effect as the cursor moved towards “Continue?”.

My entire youth eventually became a series of journeys surrounded by music between various cities, territories, and countries. Through it all, headphones became a refuge and soundtrack for my imagination. From a Walkman to a Discman, to a MiniDisk, to a Zune, and finally, an iPhone, countless airports and train stations were muted by a carefully selected stream of sound. “The Best of Mozart” bled into “Violator” and “No Need to Argue,” followed by “Peter and the Wolf,” Inevitably, the pop anthems of the Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, ABBA, and Tina Turner made their way through my music players. Through shifting landscapes, soundtracks became the score to my life. The vastness of the Grand Canyon, scored by my teenage angst from KoRn’s “Freak on a Leash” to System of a Down’s “Spiders”. The bustle of the Hong Kong MTR, underscored by Bohren and the Club of Gore’s “Sunset Mission.” Capturing photos of people in Central Park, New York City, while the droning ambient textures of Stars of the Lid’s “And Their Refinement of the Decline” engulfed me.


Music, unlike many other art forms, possesses a unique ability to anchor us to a specific moment in time.

I discovered the band Low Roar in 2015 with the release of their album “O.” I was immediately drawn to the music’s dark atmosphere, the haunting vocals of Ryan Karazija, Leifur Bjornsson, and Logi Gudmundsson. The lyrics were wistful, sullen, and brooding, resonating with my own headspace at the time. The surreal imagery of the second Death Stranding trailer, revealed at PlayStation Experience in 2016 and set to "Easy Way Out," confirmed my feeling that this game would be something special. I had no idea how special.

In May of 2017, I had the opportunity to see Low Roar perform at the intimate venue, "Atone's" in Austin, TX. There must have been no more than 30 people in the space. Ryan's voice, already captivating on the album, was even more gut-wrenching in person. Surrounded by the venue's dark, concrete pillars, I was moved to tears throughout the performance. After the show, I met Ryan, Leifur, and Logi. Ryan was remarkably calm and humble, despite my fervent praise for their music and the impact it was having. When I asked how he was handling the growing popularity due to the Death Stranding soundtrack, he admitted it was overwhelming, but expressed excitement for the future. Ryan and the band signed my records with the inscription, “Andres, all my best wishes…hope to see you again soon."

And so, when I think of “I’ll Keep Coming” by Low Roar, I’m transported back to 2015, to the first E3 teaser of Death Stranding. The crackle of a tape loop, a haunting blend of what sounds like bone and Geiger counter clicking together. Images of a naked man (Norman Reedus) and a newborn baby stranded on a black sand beach, beneath ominous floating figures in the sky; a shoreline littered with death. My curiosity was piqued. Death Stranding has become the magnum opus of Kojima Productions, and the culmination of connections made by Hideo Kojima, Director, Artist, and Cinephile.

Kojima Productions rose from the ashes of a well-documented fallout between Hideo Kojima and Konami Ltd. Kojima, the creator of the Metal Gear series, and franchise that evolved from classic stealth and espionage into a cinematic gaming experience. Hideo Kojima is known for pushing the boundaries of anything he touches, and Death Stranding was, and is, a testament to that ambition; a “strand-type” game, born from a unique collaboration between Guerrilla Games and Kojima Productions in 2016. A collaboration born through a long and arduous journey. After losing the “Fox Engine” due to the restructuring of Konami in 2015, Kojima Productions was eventually offered the “Decima Engine” by Guerrilla Games, a gesture of good faith that allowed Kojima to bring his vision into existence.

In 2018, Kojima Productions showcased the visual grandeur of Death Stranding, as the protagonist, Sam treks across desolate landscapes, rivers, waterfalls, and mountains, all while enveloped within the somber soundtrack of “Asylums for the Feeling” by Silent Poets. Until E3, Kojima had been sharing teaser photos while connecting with a diverse range of artists, musicians, comedians, directors, and actors, and incorporating their likenesses into the game.

I purchased the first Death Stranding on PS4, at a time of personal upheaval, shortly after being laid off from a leading self-driving car company. The intensity I felt upon starting the game for the first time was overwhelming, tension built up for over four years, marred by the major loss of a seemingly perfect job. I finished the game in December 2019, just as whispers of COVID-19 began to circulate. As the pandemic began to shut down the United States in March 2020, social media was awash with posts portraying Kojima as a prophet. The game's rich, disconnected universe, plagued by an invisible threat, seemed to eerily foreshadow the events unfolding in the real world. Kojima even made edits to Death Stranding 2: On the Beach's story because of how COVID changed human history.

Tragically, around the time Death Stranding 2 was being developed in 2022, Ryan Karazija, the voice and heart of Low Roar, passed away from pneumonia. Playing Death Stranding 2 in 2025, I couldn’t have helped but feel the weight of his loss, knowing that so much of the first game’s emotional power was due to his artistry. During the early chapters of Death Stranding 2, I was helping my partner rearrange the living room, and came across some vinyl records I hadn’t played in over a year: O and Once in a Long, Long While... As I read the inscription, “All my best wishes…hope to see you again soon!”, I burst into tears, realizing the painful finality of the loss. In that moment, I came across a renewed understanding that life is ephemeral, and that we were all so profoundly disconnected in a world that so desperately needs connection, which compelled me to begin writing again after a long hiatus. A commanding urge to articulate the necessity of creativity in a world that so often feels overwhelming, a world where so many are at odds, desperately trying to prove the validity of their own truth and lives.

Kojima’s work has consistently drawn inspiration from the complexities of the human experience, and Death Stranding was no exception. He challenges us to question our reliance on technology, to examine whether the constant connectivity of our modern lives is truly beneficial, or ultimately detrimental. In an era defined by surveillance, control, and pervasive negative influence, Kojima asks a fundamental question: “Should we have connected?” Death Stranding 2 serves as a poignant reminder that life connects us to a spectrum of experiences, both bleak and joyous, but ultimately, the journey is ours to forge. Death Stranding is a testament to the power of a creative team unbound, empowered to experiment and to have fun while working hard. Even while pursuing that fun, the DS1 and DS2: On the Beach compel us to look inward, to examine the world around us, and to connect with others with genuine intention. Some have dismissed the Death Stranding series as a “walking/UPS simulator”, but to them I say, you are missing a truly remarkable piece of 21st Century art. A hybrid of cinema and gaming, a medium that transcends traditional artistic boundaries. Death Stranding is a deeply moving, yet often despairing, social commentary. While DS1 explores the fragility of the world and the absence of connection, DS2 forces us to question the very nature of the connectivity we've established. As I patiently wait to play Death Stranding 3 should it ever come out, I'm always going to remember the journey in life that I've had over the past 10 years, playing this game, and experiencing the Death Stranding story.

If you too are interested in what Hideo Kojima has in store for the future, check out “Kojima Productions: Beyond the Strand”, September 23rd 12:00PM JST. The event will be dubbed in English and streamed on IGN.

Much love,
Andrés