Styx: Blades of Greed Review

I find a strange sense of peace in stealth games — though rarely by behaving the way I’m meant to. Climbing around the rafters of a building, looking down on oblivious guards going about their dull patrols, knowing I could drop and kill any of them, is a lovely feeling — the badass I always suspected myself of being.

The downside is that as soon as I drop down and kill one guard, it alerts others standing by the fireplace and having surrendered my only advantages of concealment and height, I am euthanised in an annoyingly efficient manner. 

So, like the coward I know myself to be, I have wasted huge amounts of time hiding in concealed cubbyholes, watching guards scratch their chins, have boring conversations, fetch a drink, and set off on another circuit of the warehouse. I don’t know what it says about me that I savour the power of being an assassin rather than actually using it — but I doubt it’s good.

As Styx, however — the grumpy, greedy goblin king of scathing one-liners and gratuitous swearing — I finally feel the way stealth games always promise I will. Being as naturally stealthy as an arthritic elephant, I rarely do. 

Because first-player games make my traitor brain revolt immediately, I never played the most famous stealth classic: Thief. I’ve loved Metal Gear Solid games over the years and have enormously fond memories of Tenchu: Stealth Assassins, which remains my favourite of the genre. I played the previous entry, Styx - Shards of Darkness, and enjoyed it — but found it frustrating and punishing enough that I eventually uninstalled it. 

‍Blades of Greed feels fresher. More open. There are so many ways to skin a cat — or a guard — that frustration rarely lingers. 

‍

If you can’t get past a certain guard, you can find another approach. Come at him from above, below, behind, or ignore him entirely. Use a tool. Set a trap. Wait him out. The levels are stacked vertically, layered with tunnels, rafters, windows, vents, wardrobes and crawlspaces. Locked door? Fine. There’s probably a grate nearby. Or a tiny tunnel that pops you up behind a desk.

You almost never feel stuck.

Better still, the game prioritises making you feel awesome over consistent physics. Drop off a ledge near a guard and you can shift slightly mid-air to ensure you land in a perfect one-hit kill. Press L2 to take cover and you can roll between surfaces almost under the noses of enemies, repositioning for a surgical strike. Some of those rolls stretch credibility — but they made me grin, so I’ll allow it.

‍

There are thoughtful touches in this game that many stealth games miss. You can clamp a hand over someone’s mouth, drag them somewhere secluded then finish them off. In most games you’d be stuck in a silent kill animation, while another guard barrels towards you..

One of my favourite moments came when we realised the huge, scary brute who couldn’t be killed in a single strike can instead be killed by throwing up in the water bucket and then waiting for him to refill his cup. Elegant. Petty. Perfectly goblin.

Taking turns with my son and nephew during tricky sections, we noticed something interesting: we were all coming up with completely different plans. Different routes. Different tool usage. All equally valid. Well — not the stupid plans, But those were on us. That freedom, that lack of railroading, is a real strength. 

The quick-save system (press L3 to drop a checkpoint) is a quiet hero. It avoids the usual stealth-game frustration of replaying easy sections just to reach the bit that keeps killing you. It respects your time. Context-sensitve controls also help: R2 highlights valid item uses depending on what you’re targeting, and killing through walls or windows while in cover feels slick and satisfying. 

It’s not flawless though. Reaching around a corner to snuff out a torch that is literally right there proves impossible, forcing you to break cover and risk exposure just to put out a candle. That feels unnecessary.

There are other clunky moments. Having to press R3 to draw your dagger when spotted —  rather than just slashing — can get you skewered. Forgetting to release L2 when trying to flee leaves you glued to a wall, awkwardly shimmying up brickwork while a guard repeatedly stabs you. 

Some of that may be my lack of PS5 finesse. But my co-testers complained too, so I feel justified. Fortunately, most of these mishaps resulted in comedy deaths rather than rage quits.

There’s a skill tree, as expected, offering new abilities and upgrades. You can craft tools to support your daily dose of casual murder: sand to extinguish torches from a distance, whistles and bottles to lure guards, blow darts and acid traps for cowardly-yet-efficient assassinations.

Crafting materials can be scarce, which makes you hesitant to use the more interesting tools — perhaps a little too hesitant. But unlocking new traversal abilities and gadgets gradually opens up previously inaccessible areas, rewarding exploration.

The world itself is cleverly designed and genuinely fun to explore. Its verticality makes Styx’s nimble goblin traversal far more engaging than a wide, flat map ever could. Styx remains the standout character — sharp, funny, full of venom — though supporting performances vary in polish.

The story won’t win awards for originality, but it does its job: providing a justification for stealing, murdering, and generally being a gleeful goblin menace. More importantly, this feels markedly more polished than the previous entry. It still stumbles occasionally, but it’s inventive, flexible, and consistently satisfying.

If you’ve ever secretly wanted to be a foul-mouthed goblin assassin — and I know you have — this is the stealth sandbox that finally lets you feel like one.