ANOTHER FINAL FAREWELL
Gaiden is Japanese for “side story,” and behind the lengthy title Like a Dragon Gaiden: The Man Who Erased His Name lies a compact but powerful interlude that accomplishes a great deal. It serves as Kazuma Kiryu’s latest—and possibly final—farewell, tying together the story threads of Yakuza 6: The Song of Life, Yakuza: Like a Dragon, and Like a Dragon: Infinite Wealth. It is also, improbably, a silly gangster opera that moved me to tears.
The game offers more localization options than usual, but I stuck with Japanese voice acting. After eight mainline entries, hearing anyone other than Takaya Kuroda voice Kiryu would feel sacrilegious. That decision pays off spectacularly in the game’s final scene, where Kiryu’s rock-solid façade finally crumbles and he is overcome by emotion after a lifetime of hardship. It’s one of the most affecting combinations of animation and voice acting this medium has produced—provided you’ve followed the series up to this point.
That ending is a grim but fitting conclusion to the long tale of an honor-bound man trying to live well in a cruel world. Kiryu has sacrificed nearly every chance at personal happiness, and the story forces him to confront that reality all at once. At the end of Yakuza 6, he staged his own death, abandoning those he loved to keep them safe. Now living under the alias Joryu—a suspiciously similar name, akin to changing Stephen to Steve—he exists in enforced anonymity.
He begins the story as an agent working for a shadowy government organization, hired out as muscle for wealthy clients. When a mission goes wrong and he draws the attention of a Yakuza family, it becomes clear that his cover is compromised. The remnants of the Omi Alliance have found him and attempt to coerce him into joining their cause for a mysterious, high-stakes operation. Something big is brewing, and Kiryu must fight relentlessly to preserve the identity he erased.
He doesn’t exactly excel at staying hidden. His Clark Kent–style disguise consists solely of a pair of glasses, which makes it all the more amusing when characters recognize him and he flatly insists otherwise: “My name is Joryu.” As ever, the series revisits its familiar themes of greed, ambition, and the ruthless pursuit of power. Every Yakuza wants to be the strongest, the most feared, the one at the top. Kiryu is the rare exception—the man who won nearly every fight and still lost, because he refused to abandon his humanity.
In that spirit, Like a Dragon continues its tradition of both celebrating and satirizing games as a medium, gamifying every aspect of everyday life. Arguments are resolved through fistfights, friendships are forged through brawls, romance becomes a dating sim (now with live-action cutscenes), singing turns into a rhythm game, and dining out functions as a long-term investment—boosting health while earning Akame Points for skill upgrades.
ombat in The Man Who Erased His Name represents Yakuza at its peak. You can freely switch between two distinct fighting styles. The new Agent style equips Kiryu with James Bond–esque gadgets: explosive cigarettes, wrist-mounted wires, and other clever tools that emphasize crowd control. The traditional Yakuza style, meanwhile, is a greatest-hits collection of Kiryu’s iconic Dragon of Dojima moves, trading versatility for raw power and faster takedowns.
The combat is noticeably tougher than in recent entries, and it benefits from that added bite. Unless you invest in defensive upgrades or master dodging, blocking, and counters, your health will evaporate quickly. It keeps encounters tense and satisfying, especially when facing the game’s frequent enemy hordes.
Unfortunately, the entire story unfolds in Sotenbori—a recycled and compact district saddled with one of the franchise’s most tedious layouts. A river splits the map in two, forcing frequent detours, and nearly all restaurants are inconveniently clustered on the north side, making dining objectives a chore. More shortcuts and side alleys would have gone a long way. Thankfully, the often-forgotten taxi service mitigates some of this friction.
On a technical level, the game looks and runs beautifully. The PS5 version is smooth and responsive, transitioning seamlessly between exploration and combat. As always, the Yakuza series excels at portraying urban chaos: fights leave debris scattered across the streets, bystanders recoil and watch from a safe distance, and the city feels convincingly alive.
Simply wandering Sotenbori reveals an absurd level of detail—oversized mascots outside every shop, clerks tirelessly working behind display windows, pedestrians gossiping about local events, even a pro wrestler striking poses aboard a passing riverboat. Store shelves are meticulously stocked with decorative items you’ll never interact with, and item pickups often appear in delightfully implausible locations.
Despite its size, Sotenbori offers no shortage of distractions. Classic minigames return—pool, darts, mahjong, shogi, karaoke, golf—alongside a SEGA arcade cabinet packed with racers and fighters. Midway through the story, you even gain access to a SEGA Master System, with cartridges scattered throughout the city. I sampled Alien Syndrome, Fantasy Zone, and Maze Hunter 3-D, but none could keep me away from the main narrative for long.
Two larger side activities stand out. The first is the long-awaited return of Pocket Circuit racing, a delightfully nerdy toy-car racer where you tune your vehicle to meet track conditions while outpacing rivals. The second is the Coliseum, presented here in its best incarnation yet. Built on the excellent combat system, it offers arena-based tournaments, including chaotic Hell Team Rumbles where you fight alongside recruited allies. These partners are introduced through substories or hired via dubious talent scouts, and both side modes feature robust progression systems and their own narrative arcs.
A new character, Akame—protector of the homeless—acts as your quest broker through the Akame Network. These side jobs often evolve into full substories, though there are regrettably too few of them. One memorable mission involves a young man seeking dating advice after successfully courting someone online with the help of an AI chatbot. Others serve primarily as recruitment opportunities for the Coliseum.
The Man Who Erased His Name is comfortably familiar Yakuza territory, elevated by an extraordinary narrative payoff that places it among the franchise’s top five entries. Up to that point, it scarcely puts a foot wrong, effortlessly shifting between comedy, melancholy, and explosive rage. It’s a remarkably focused Yakuza experience, and the emotional climax lands like a final, devastating flourish. I’d rank it alongside Yakuza Kiwami 2 and Yakuza: Like a Dragon.
It’s unfortunate that the game isn’t welcoming to newcomers. This is not an entry point; ideally, you’ll have played the entire series beforehand. The more time you’ve invested in Kiryu’s journey, the deeper this game cuts. For a brief moment, I forgot I was watching a video game character. I wanted to reach through the screen and tell the poor old man that everything would be alright.
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