TL;DR: Nioh 3 adds a one-button ninja mode and an open world that mostly works, creating the most flexible, approachable, and ambitious Nioh yet—even if it sometimes trips over its own loot pile.

I’ve been living with the Nioh series since 2017, long enough that its rhythms feel like muscle memory etched directly into my thumbs. The ki pulse timing. The stance dancing. The borderline unhinged loot showers that make Diablo look minimalist. So when I booted up Nioh 3, I expected comfort food with sharper edges. What I didn’t expect was a game that hands me a literal “be a ninja now” button and dares me not to mash it every five seconds like a kid who just discovered a light switch.

That single design decision ends up defining the entire experience. Nioh 3 isn’t trying to reinvent the soul of the series. It’s trying to stretch it, twist it, and see how much chaos can fit inside an already dense action RPG without the whole thing collapsing under its own weight. Sometimes it works beautifully. Sometimes it wobbles. But even when it stumbles, it never stops being fascinating.

The first time I hit R2 and watched my character shed their samurai composure for full-on ninja gremlin energy, I laughed out loud. Not because it looked silly, but because it felt illegal. One second I’m planted, blocking and parrying like a disciplined murder monk. The next I’m flipping through the air, hurling bombs, double-jumping onto rooftops, and dodging attacks that would have flattened me moments earlier. This isn’t a gimmick layered on top of the combat. It’s two entirely different philosophies stitched together with shocking confidence.

Playing as a samurai still feels like classic Nioh: deliberate, punishing, and deeply satisfying when you get into that flow state where every parry feels clairvoyant. The ninja style, though, turns the game into something closer to an arcade power fantasy. Speed replaces patience. Tools replace brute force. Instead of asking “can I survive this hit,” you start asking “can I stay out of reach long enough to make this enemy look stupid.” And the answer is often yes.

What surprised me most is how often the game wants you to dance between those identities mid-fight. Style-shifting at the exact moment of impact to negate otherwise unblockable attacks feels like a smug little flex. It’s Team Ninja saying, “Yes, we expect you to master this too.” Against slower, lumbering yokai, I’d whittle them down like an annoying mosquito. Against hyper-aggressive enemies, I’d switch back to samurai and shut them down with brute discipline. I absolutely gravitated toward one style more than the other, but the game constantly nudged me to stay bilingual in violence.

Movement matters more than ever here, and that’s where the open world experiment really starts to show its teeth. The double-jump alone changes how you read the environment. Verticality isn’t just for spectacle; it’s baked into exploration. Cliffs hide loot. Rooftops lead to shortcuts. Entire encounters can be skipped or ambushed depending on how willing you are to poke around. When the world is dense, Nioh 3 feels adventurous in a way the series never quite achieved before

That density, unfortunately, isn’t consistent. Some regions feel alive with secrets, side activities, and optional challenges that dare you to bite off more than you should. Others feel like connective tissue, places you pass through while mentally calculating how much grinding stands between you and the next real story beat. The structure creates this odd emotional whiplash where I’m either deeply engaged or mildly resentful, depending on the roll of the map.

Narratively, things are refreshingly straightforward for a Nioh game, which is to say “political betrayal plus demons equals your problem now.” Being thrown into 1622 Japan, watching sibling rivalry spiral into yokai-fueled apocalypse, and cleaning up the mess is familiar territory. But the way the story is delivered benefits from the open world. You’re not just hopping between missions on a menu anymore. You’re carving a path through regions, building strength, and deciding when you’re ready to challenge the next major threat.

Side activities are a mixed bag. Some are blink-and-you-miss-it distractions that barely justify their existence. Others, like stumbling into a unique world boss far earlier than you’re prepared for, are peak Nioh. The carrot on the stick is always progression. Better loot. More abilities. Deeper customization across both combat styles. The game constantly whispers promises of power, and it’s very good at making you believe them.

Loot, as always, is both the blessing and the curse. My inventory routinely looked like a digital garage sale, but at least this time there’s a centralized hub that makes unloading junk less of a chore. It’s still overwhelming, still indulgent, still very much Nioh. You either make peace with that or you bounce off hard.

Where Nioh 3 really earns its keep is after the credits roll. Shogun’s Journey doesn’t feel like an afterthought. It’s a full-on invitation to go deeper, crank the difficulty, and break the game open with new item tiers and build options that reward obsession. If you’re the kind of player who sees New Game+ as the real game, this is catnip.

What’s wild is how approachable all of this feels. The recap baked into the menus makes it clear you don’t need homework to jump in. The open world is easier to read than the old mission-select structure. The dual-style system actually lowers the barrier to entry by letting players lean into what feels natural before branching out. For all its complexity, Nioh 3 might be the most welcoming entry the series has ever produced.

It’s not perfect. The open world doesn’t always justify itself, and the pacing can sag when content thins out. But the foundation is rock solid, and the ambition on display here is impossible to ignore. Nioh 3 feels like Team Ninja testing how far they can push their formula without losing their identity. Most of the time, they pull it off.

Verdict

Nioh 3 is a confident, occasionally messy evolution of a beloved action RPG series. The ninja button alone fundamentally reshapes combat, and while the open world experiment doesn’t always land cleanly, it adds a sense of freedom and discovery the franchise has long flirted with. It’s a fantastic entry point for newcomers and a deeply rewarding playground for veterans willing to embrace its quirks.