IMPRESSIVE REVISIONISM WITH A TIRED EDGE
My first encounter with Norse mythology came through Valhalla (1986), an animated Danish film by Peter Madsen, which depicted the Aesir gods—primarily Thor and Loki—as flawed but ultimately heroic figures, seen through the eyes of two human children. That image of the gods as powerful yet fundamentally benevolent has lingered with me ever since.
Sony Santa Monica’s God of War (2018) deliberately challenges that legacy. In this retelling, the Aesir are portrayed as villains, while the Giants become tragic victims. It mirrors the studio’s revisionist treatment of Greek mythology in the original God of War trilogy, but this time through a quieter, more introspective lens.
Kratos, now older and subdued, has fled his violent Mediterranean past and lives in self-imposed exile in the frozen north with his son, Atreus. The game begins after the unexplained death of Kratos’ wife, and father and son set out to scatter her ashes from the highest peak in the realm. That is the narrative spine—and it sounds deceptively simple.
In practice, God of War constantly subverts expectations. Many of the major Norse gods never appear directly, existing instead as legends, murals and statues. This restraint isn’t inherently a flaw, but it places immense pressure on the content that fills the gaps. While the story is often well written and emotionally grounded, it is stretched thin over an experience that feels unnecessarily bloated.
My playthrough lasted roughly 45 hours, and that length exposes the game’s biggest weakness: pacing. Progress is repeatedly interrupted by side paths, repeated puzzles and familiar combat encounters that exist less to enrich the narrative than to pad it. The result is a technically impressive but often frustrating experience.
The relationship between Kratos and Atreus is the game’s strongest asset. Their dynamic evolves naturally: Kratos teaches survival and combat, while Atreus interprets the world’s mythology for his illiterate father. When the game allows these moments to breathe, it succeeds. Some scenes are genuinely affecting, restrained and well performed. Unfortunately, tonal shifts and prolonged gameplay stretches often dilute their impact.
This is compounded by the game’s much-lauded “one-take” camera, which follows the characters without a single visible cut. While visually impressive and immersive, the technique ultimately works against the story’s pacing. In film, long takes heighten tension. Here, they flatten it. The absence of cuts removes a vital storytelling tool, and what remains often feels like a self-conscious gesture toward cinematic prestige rather than a meaningful design choice.
Exploration is another mixed blessing. The game can’t quite decide whether it wants to be linear or open-ended, resulting in excessive backtracking and long-winded traversal. Puzzles and enemy types repeat frequently, and Kratos’ heavy, deliberate movement makes these stretches feel sluggish rather than contemplative.
The game also struggles with persistent ludonarrative dissonance. In cutscenes, Kratos effortlessly moves mountains. In gameplay, he’s routinely stopped by waist-high obstacles, brittle wooden planks or minor elevation changes. In a story striving for grounded maturity, these contradictions are hard to ignore.
Combat, while solid, is rarely exceptional. It blends the brutality of the original series with a light Dark Souls-inspired structure, emphasizing stamina and positioning. The Leviathan Axe is satisfying to use, and Atreus’ support adds welcome texture, but enemy variety thins quickly and many boss fights feel recycled.
As the game nears its conclusion, however, the narrative finally tightens its grip. By focusing on the main quest and shedding most side content, the story gains momentum and delivers several effective twists. It takes too long to get there, but it arrives just in time to partially redeem the experience.
God of War (2018) is unquestionably a good game—polished, well-acted and visually stunning. It represents a high-quality, prestige Sony production and earns its recommendation. Yet the overwhelming reverence surrounding it leaves me perplexed. Beneath the exquisite presentation lies an experience weighed down by outdated design philosophies, awkward pacing and an uneasy balance between cinematic ambition and interactive reality.
Like expertly executed plastic surgery, the transformation is impressive—but the underlying structure still shows its age.
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