Introduction

Think of Ronin as a samurai-themed board game where the board is a corporate office and the pieces are very unhappy security guards. This PlayStation 4 port of Tomasz Wacławek's indie darling turned retail release grafts turn-based decision-making onto stealthy, platforming combat. The premise is deliciously simple: you're a young woman with a very specific to-do list (revenge, check; dramatic polaroid cross-outs, big check), and you get to plan, execute and occasionally fail spectacularly while trying not to be seen. If you enjoy methodical planning followed by gloriously chaotic improvisation when things go wrong, Ronin will scratch that oddly satisfying itch.

Gameplay

Ronin's core loop is short, sharp and frequently brutal in the best possible way. Levels are built like corporate labyrinths - sterile offices, catwalks, and elevators - where timing and positioning matter more than twitch reflexes. Each turn you plan your action: move, climb, hang from the ceiling, throw your sword, or slice someone up in a painfully stylish fashion. Then you press the button, watch the turn unfold, and either feel like a tactical mastermind or a very confused ninja. Stealth is the name of the game. Sneak up behind guards for silent kills, use the ceiling to drop on unsuspecting foes (instant death for non-elite guards), or stick to the wall and launch yourself into the perfect overhead slice. The ceiling-drop is wonderfully satisfying - like a surprise pizza delivery for the guard, but with more blood and fewer carbs. Your sword is also a throwable bit of justice: lob it across a corridor, watch it bonk someone in the face, and hope that no other guards saw the trajectory you just made painfully obvious. Combat flips into a turn-based dodge-and-angle mini-game if you get spotted. This is where Ronin's hybrid identity shows: fights require readings of patterns, small-window dodges, and taking the right angle to finish an enemy before they ruin your day. When it works, the flow is immensely rewarding: you plot a perfect assassination, a chain of turns unfolds like clockwork, and you stroll out of the level like you own the place. When it doesn't, you'll be doing a frantic dance with guards that think you're a new kind of dance partner - one who gets stabbed a lot. Because the game is built around five assassination targets, levels can start to feel same-y: corporate interiors, similar guard layouts, rinse and repeat. This repetition is where the game's charm can wear thin. The design encourages optimization and trial-and-error; each death teaches you something, but after several runs you may start to feel like you're playing Office Stealth: The Sequel. That said, randomness sprinkled into guard patrols and the ability to approach scenarios in surprising ways keeps runs fresh enough to stay interesting for a good stretch. The story itself is succinct and grimly focused: you are avenging your father's death, crossing out faces on a polaroid as you go. There are two flavor endings depending on whether you get hit on the last fight, and a prequel comic (included in the special edition) that paints our protagonist as someone who, frankly, really enjoys the rush of killing. It's short, effective, and doesn't overstay its welcome - like an espresso shot of revenge with no milk.

Graphics

Visually, Ronin leapt out of its original game-jam pixel roots into polished 2D art. Artist Łukasz Piskorz helped move the visuals away from the minimal pixel style and into something that feels purposefully slick: high-contrast silhouettes, sharp character art, and moody lighting that suits the game's noir-corporate-samurai vibe. Environments are functional rather than flashy, which works because the game rewards clarity over spectacle - you should be able to tell at a glance where guards are, where to climb, and where to duck. Sound and music complement the visuals nicely. Patryk Karwat's score underlines tense planning moments and the sudden eruptions of violence without getting in the way. There's also a special edition soundtrack if you want to hum ominously to yourself between runs. Technical performance on PS4 is generally solid; the game runs smoothly, and the presentation feels snug on a console despite Ronin having its origin on itch.io and later Steam Early Access. It looks and sounds like a polished indie that knew exactly what mood it wanted to hit.

Conclusion

Ronin is the kind of game that hooks you with a single elegant idea and then polishes every facet of that idea until it shines. Your mileage will depend on how much you enjoy repetition as a path to mastery. Fans of methodical, puzzle-like stealth will find satisfying loops of trial, error and eventual perfection. If you're hoping for sprawling variety or a narrative that unfurls into something huge, this isn't it - but what Ronin does, it does well: tight stealth-platforming with a turn-based brain and a samurai sword. Expect comparisons to Gunpoint - they're fair, but Ronin leans more into schlocky B-movie adrenaline than cerebral puzzle-sneaking. Critics were mixed at launch (Metacritic sits in the low 70s for PS4), and that feels accurate: it's not flawless, but it's an enjoyable, stylish, bite-sized revenge simulator with a lot of heart. If you like planning like a chess master and executing like a hyper-violent ballet dancer, Ronin on PS4 is worth a shot. Just don't get too attached to those office buildings - you'll be seeing fluorescent lighting in your dreams.

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