Look, I love a good dose of historical ninja drama as much as the next person, but even by video game standards, Assassin's Creed Shadows has some moments that make me slap my forehead and giggle. It's 2026 now, and after countless hours parkouring across feudal Japan as Naoe and Yasuke, I've compiled a list of head-scratchers that feel less "Ezio would be proud" and more "wait, what?" Realism gets benched for the sake of fun—totally cool—but the contradictions are just too juicy to ignore. So grab some sake, lean back, and enjoy my nitpicky, tongue-in-cheek dissection of eight things in AC Shadows that make absolutely zero sense.
The Bells: Now All of Japan Knows You’re Here
Bells are the ultimate party poopers. In enemy camps, a single ding-dong sends the entire region into a frenzy. You get the "Wanted" status, guardians swarm, and every guard suddenly develops telepathic intel on your exact whereabouts. Here’s the kicker: even after you’ve cleared every hostile soul from the restricted area, that scarlet "Wanted" clings to you like a bad habit—lasting for months in in-game time, because seasons have to change for it to vanish. So, you’re telling me a solitary bell tolled in a remote fortress alerts the farmer three villages over that I’m the one who filched a daimyo’s scroll? Do they have a country-wide group chat?
My favorite is walking into a neutral town post-bell and watching peaceful NPCs morph into aggrieved vigilantes, pitchforks at the ready. Like, "Relax, Oda Nobunaga himself didn’t text you." The absurdity peaks when you realize the bell’s sound wave apparently carries the DNA evidence too. Next time, I’ll just yell "fake news" and see if that dispels the aggro.
The Change of Seasons: How Much Time Has Passed?
Seasons in AC Shadows are gorgeous, but their passage is completely divorced from the story. Fast-travel a couple of times, and boom—three months have evaporated. You can start a mission in cherry blossom spring and finish it knee-deep in winter snow, all while the plot pretends it’s still the same dramatic afternoon. I once accepted a quest to deliver a love letter, and by the time I handed it over, the recipient had probably gotten married, had kids, and retired. Yet the dialogue remained, "Oh, you came back so soon!"
What’s even funnier is that the game eventually lets you manually force a season change. So if you’re impatient for winter, you can just poof skip a quarter of the year. Historical accuracy, who? I imagine Naoe and Yasuke standing in a field, snapping their fingers, and the entire climate shifts. It’s a secret Isu power I never knew we had. But seriously, the passage of time turns missions into sagas—by the time I’ve killed a target, their grandchildren might have already sworn vengeance.
Tree Platforms: Who Put Them There?
Naoe and Yasuke can’t climb trees like good ol’ Connor Kenway, yet the world is littered with trees sporting convenient wooden platforms and even bright yellow paint marking the path. At first, I thought, "Ah, hidden assassin hideouts!" The game does explain that some of these lead to secret outposts—neat, makes sense. But then I found a platform-pimped tree inside a heavily guarded temple complex. Explain that one, lore team!
Did a covert assassin sneak in just to nail some plywood to a sacred tree? Did the monks not notice? Or maybe feudal Japan had an IKEA-loving arborist on the payroll. And that yellow paint? That’s practically a neon sign telling enemies, "Hey, a stealthy murderer will be hopping across these branches at midnight." I’d love to overhear a guard: "Why is there a ladder nailed to that century-old oak?" "Don’t ask, just ring the bell."
Naoe’s Weapons Capacity: Why Choose Between Two?
Yasuke gets a pass because, well, the man is a walking arsenal. But Naoe’s loadout situation is pure comedic gold. She can only equip two weapons at a time—say, a katana and a kusarigama—leaving the tanto behind. Yet the tanto is vital for double assassinations. So if you want to stylishly remove two guards, you better have that tiny blade on your person. Why can’t she just carry all three? None of them are heavy. A katana on the back, kusarigama on the hip, and tanto tucked in the rear—that’s like the standard shinobi starter pack.
The mental image of Naoe frantically swapping loadouts before each mission cracks me up. She’s sneaking into a castle, sees a patrolling duo, whispers "Wait, let me run back to my hideout and fetch my tanto real quick." In that time, the season might change again. It’s as if the game thinks her belt only has two slots. Kenshi vibes, but come on.
Naoe’s Reverse Grip: That’s Not Helpful
I’m all for stylistic flair, but this one makes my HEMA-loving heart weep. Naoe holds her katana in a reverse grip during combat—blade pointing backward, icepick style. It looks edgy and distinct, sure, but it completely neuters her reach. She has to step closer to enemies, giving them a generous opportunity to introduce her to their own steel. In real life, reverse grip is used for situations where you actively don’t want to hit things, like maneuvering in tight spaces or avoiding accidental cuts.
And she blocks with it too! Watching her parry a massive nodachi with a backward grip is like seeing someone try to stop a car with a toothpick. The physics alone make me giggle. I can’t help but imagine a seasoned samurai staring at her and saying, "You know, if you flipped that around, you’d have, like, an extra foot of stabbing range. Just a thought." Maybe it’s a secret technique—confuse the enemy into dying of laughter.
The Magic Door: How Does That Work?
Without spoiling too much, there’s a door that opens only when a specific song is played. Not a coded knock, not a mechanical lever—a song. The door hears the tune and swings open by itself, in 16th-century Japan. I need to meet the master craftsman who installed a Shazam-enabled lock centuries before electricity. Were the Isu artifacts repurposed as doorknobs? Because that’s the only explanation that doesn’t involve wizards.
I spent a good few minutes just standing there, pondering the engineering marvel. Did the builders employ a legion of tiny ninja musicians inside the wall who listen for the melody and push a lever? Or is it a really, really dedicated spirit? Either way, it’s delightfully bonkers. Imagine explaining it to a historian: "Yeah, so the temple door has perfect pitch and a taste for traditional folk songs." The silence that follows is exactly how my brain felt.
Which Fights Are Canon? Canon Mode Still Has Choices
Canon mode is a brilliant idea—let the game make all narrative decisions so you can experience the "true" story. Except when boss fights roll around. Even with canon mode enabled, the game often cheerfully asks, "So, who’s doing the murdering today? Naoe or Yasuke?" Wait, I thought we were on rails! If there’s a canonical version of events, shouldn’t the game just know who took down the big bad?
This leaves me in a meta-limbo. Was that corrupt nobleman canonically assassinated by a shadow-dwelling shinobi or a hulking samurai in full plate? I pick Naoe for stealthy kills because it feels right, but what if the official lore says Yasuke did it? It’s like reading a choose-your-own-adventure book where some pages are stuck together. I love the freedom, but calling it "canon" is a stretch. Maybe the canonical truth is that they both attacked simultaneously in some quantum superposition, and the universe collapsed into whichever one I didn’t break my controller on.
Quick Character Swapping: Very Useful, But Still Funny
Last but not least, the instant character swap. You press a button, and in the blink of an eye, Naoe morphs into Yasuke or vice versa. No animation, no "I’ll take it from here" handoff, not even a puff of smoke. It’s less a swap and more a magical girl transformation sequence without the sparkles. I’m perched on a rooftop as Naoe, and a fraction of a second later, I’m Yasuke, with all his bulk, standing exactly where the petite ninja was. The guards don’t bat an eye. The laws of physics weep in a corner.
The sheer convenience makes me laugh every time. In a game that occasionally prides itself on immersion, this feels like the developers just winked and said, "Eh, you’ll thank us later." And we do. But I can’t help picturing the behind-the-scenes: Naoe ducks behind a barrel, Yasuke steps out, and a bewildered enemy thinks, "Wait, was she always that big?" It’s the ultimate disguise—identity theft at light speed.
At the end of the day, these nitpicks are a love letter. Assassin’s Creed Shadows is a blast, and these nonsensical quirks only add to its charm. Games are allowed to be silly, and I’ll happily suspend disbelief while chuckling at magic doors and reverse-grip sword fights. So next time you ring a bell and the entire nation mobilizes against you, just remember: it’s all in good fun. And maybe, just maybe, carry earplugs.