5/5 ★ – Nestunt's review of God of War.

I finished God of War in the beginning of July. Still, I decided to let this review mature in my mind until now. Let’s get this out of the way, because God of War doesn’t deserve a diatribe to describe the obvious: it’s a masterpiece, it’s special, whatever you want to call it. For me, this videogame resonated in a much more fulfilling way than an all-encompassing term or qualifier. I’ve already played a lot of games and watched many movies in my life, and, from this point, I can safely say that God of War was the best experience I had in terms of caring for what happens to the future of a cast of characters. Throughout the years, I’ve been noticing that I don’t care for huge storylines and following characters in a quasi-voyeuristic way like the majority of consumers of commercial art. That’s why I don’t go crazy for sequels or why I prefer self-contained cinema to serialized TV. Even though they’re not mutually exclusive, I connect much more deeply with a character arc that is sowed into the world-building, than narratives that theatrically give the spotlight to character development. I know these artistic choices aren’t mutually exclusive because, three months ago, I was part of a story that navigated both styles majestically. God of War made the decision of what next-generation console to buy very easy. I want a PlayStation 5 because I need to know what will happen with these characters; in this world permeated with lore and mysteries. Let’s tell the story of my journey through this game. “First impressions matter” is a saying that is as true as it is dangerous. As matter of fact, its dangerousness emerges precisely from its trueness. Many times, artistic endeavors are so focused in grabbing your attention from the get-go and stamping impressions near the finish-line that they end up feeling more canonical than expressive. There’s nothing wrong in wanting to take your audience on a ride; the problem is that a roller-coaster is made of unbendable material, while a plot should be organic like the source it comes from. Narrative threads should be exactly that: threads that weave around you, and if there is contact, you feel enfolded by them. Storylines and acts are not legos. So, I became instantly afraid for God of War when I was presented with such an impactful and well-paced first hour. How can they top that? Boy, they top it. From adventure thrills, technical amazements to emotional stakes, this game is a beautiful tale that puts its arm around you and shows its world. It never loses the grip of what truly means to show someone something: a shared experience. All these days after seeing credits, I still find myself nodding in respect for how the development team at Sony Santa Monica managed to so tightly enrich a self-enclosed journey with such grand fantasies, explicit or implicit. Damn, they really scaled everything in reference to that pace and tone of the first hour, without ever losing nuance, swings or intrigue. Bravo! Contributing to these immersive sensations of flow and cohesion in the narrative tonality was the craftsmanship coming from the Visual Art department, led by the great Raf Grassetti, the underappreciated wizardry of the Animation Department, led by Bruno Velazquez, or even the diverse but always right music compositions written by Bear McCreary. Visually, God of War is a stunner. Bearing in mind that it deals in semi-open world design, having the option to render the fidelity of 4K visuals on the PS4 Pro or run at 60fps in 1080p, and both being pleasurable experiences for different reasons makes this game a technical landmark. I chose to play the majority of the game in 4K, because I found that the 60fps performance smooths out the cinematic look I wanted for this journey. Still, the combat gameplay is so good that I found myself tinkering with the higher framerate in order to academically compare that dimension of the game with greats like Darks Souls or Nioh. Notwithstanding, a game can boast technical apparitions and still look uninspiring. The art style and the visual choices in God of War made the engineering behind the “graphics” resemble magic. The world conceptualized and drawn by the art team is impeccably balanced. The sizes and shapes of objects exude attention to logic and emotion at the same time. Color and light are served like a meal of an athlete: nutritive intake and appropriate bursts when needed. And all these elements seem to be in concert with the undertones of discovery and mythology. Adding to this audiovisual feast is the sound and music. The first has such a smart design and a mix of meaningful assertions that I had to experience the majority of the game with over-ear headphones. If you don’t have ones, I suggest you try borrowing just for the serpent in the trailers (Jörmungandr, for all the myths’ devourers like me). The music is an instant classic, earning a rightful place next to some of the best scores in this and other mediums. The variety in motifs is impressive on its own, but the away McCreary went and found different signatures within the same identity is what makes this soundtrack superb. From deep and masculine punctuations, to enchanting feminine ballads, every song feels part of an epic hymn telling the story of a world filled with personal and larger-than-life tales. You can listen to this OST when not playing the game and recapture both the powerful and the fable-like because the musical composition shares the same principle of respecting the logical and emotional substances of what constitutes the grandeur of adventuring into storied lands. It’s hard to describe, but these symphonies do sound in color and volume. These qualities endow them with a completeness that adds to the game without clamoring for attention and also makes the score very substantial without a controller or visuals. By now, it should be clear that God of War is sublime in its creative arts’ expressions and marks. But, videogames take interactivity to a higher level; so, how does it play? To put it simply, God of War controls like a sharp knife carving into semi-solid butter. The work put forward by the Animations’ team is so good that it deserves to be considered as one of the best standards moving forward. The weight of every action, coupled with the instant reactions coming from the characters’ bodies are pinpoint perfect and make interactions and immersion become even more symbiotic. Feedback is king. And this game is flawless in every component that constitutes feedback: wind-up animations, contact, recovery, visual-effects on sender and recipient, sounds, even the choice for a closer camera than the average offer in this genre ends up contributing to a more primal experience, where inputs hit closer to home and reverberate way more profoundly. Another smart choice presents itself without a tutorial and makes you feel smarter in this world. I was particularly impressed with these two implementations: You throw the axe at a foe, five more enemies surround you, and you’re feeling pumped; so, you decide to fight them with only your fists, you beat the one on the left, and the one of the right, but then you feel like using the axe again, without thinking you press ‘triangle’ and suddenly the rumble in the controller hits a body behind you in consonance with what your headphones are saying and then.. Vuunt! Your hands are no longer holding a Dualshock4 but the epic Leviathan Axe. You smile because you’re about to have some fun with the remaining two guys. You are feeling great because you’ve just beaten a group of enemies in the coolest fashion, and have tons of ideas for that throw and callback mechanic you’ve learned, and all that dopamine is enhancing even more the beauty of the level design around you. The way architecture and objects exist in relation to the world and each other makes so much sense. The contours are meaningful, the light is environmental and not “gamey”, and the colors tell a myriad of long-lost stories that are still alive and craving to be told. And suddenly you can’t progress. A freakin’ puzzle. You hate puzzles.. You are activating some roller or pulley or whatever and nothing seems to be putting you closer to solving this hindrance. Your mind starts wandering off to that moment when you were kicking ass by throwi… Are you serious?! The way this one mechanic can be applied to tackle such different scenarios is not short of genius. Gameplay-wise is much more enjoyable to have a swiss army knife than a battalion of keys and wrenches. But the trick goes one layer deeper – the emotional level. It’s the “trusty steed” effect of many stories and adventures. The Leviathan Axe is no longer just a weapon, like Tornado was never just a means of transport to Zorro. The Leviathan Axe becomes a reliable companion that not only gives you an edge against every new challenge, but also never fails a summoning. Narratively, this is even more resonant in videogames than in other mediums because you don’t need backstory to give that life to an object. You live through the challenges and actively team-up with ‘Tornado’. And then Santa Monica also adds a backstory. Stuff of legends! It’s also crucial for this effect that, instead of collecting stronger and stronger weapons, you only have Leviathan throughout your journey, and as you gain experience and discover more of this world you’ll open up new traits for the Axe and learn new moves with It. Previous entries in the God of War franchise also had their fair share of iconic weapons and tools, with the notoriety prize going to the Blades of Chaos. And despite the narrative impact of them being chained and seared to the flesh, the overall aesthetic was always diluted by a more distant camera and the visual-effect of their fluidity and stretching-out. In 2018, by choosing a very close over-the-shoulder camera, the Leviathan Axe is THERE, front and center, in all of its glory. You see its past engraved in the wooden handle, you connect with its present by noticing the runes you’ve applied to It, and you witness its future by feeling the magical ice engulfing the blade before shredding a draugr in half. This closing-up of the camera has already been mentioned more than once in this review because I want to make it clear that it’s not a trivial move. God of War (2018) and God of War (2005) are both 3rd-person action games, but, among other design principles, the change in camera is paramount for what is being expressed in this new life of Kratos. And I want to emphasize this because the change was heavily criticized prior to release, but, I will dive deeper on this subject before finishing the text. It goes without saying that a lot of talented and ingenious developers worked on this game, as beautiful ideas and visions keep surprising you in every corner. Even so, and before delivering another torrent of words about another intelligent and impactful design decision in this videogame, I have to put the spotlight on the person behind the majority of the Yes’s and No’s. I was hoping to save his name for later, since, besides all the other developers’ own personal and emotional contributions, it has been quite clear that this work syphoned a lot of intimate energy out of its creative director. And for that, you have my eternal gratitude Cory Barlog. Saying No to a good idea because it doesn’t gel with the bigger picture, or saying Yes to a vision when there’s tremendous risk associated with its transformative contagiousness is a path that requires a lot of mental fortitude and belief . And God of War must have been as big a headache to direct as it was enjoyable for Cory. From the aforementioned mechanics, new systems to engage with, modernized gameplay loops or even the mandate to not do camera cuts, all had their unique challenges, the bigger being the coherence between all the parts. Cory and the team nailed it. God of War is probably the most consistent videogame I’ve ever played, and still managed to deliver emotional stakes, narrative twists and engrossing character arcs. The final product has every element speaking the same message despite the different languages. Having a game of this scope that achieves a degree of communication between gameplay, progression and story is so rare. Usually one element suffers or is dissonant. Not here. To contextualize, you play as Kratos, the former Greek God of War, and his young son Atreus, and following the death of Kratos’ second wife (Atreus’ mother), they journey to fulfill the promise of spreading her ashes at the highest peak of the nine realms of the Norse world. Kratos keeps his troubled past a secret from Atreus, who is unaware of his divine nature, but, along their journey, they will encounter monsters and other gods. First of all, it is incredible how the game keeps giving us human resonance through the sober beauty of this simple premise. When credits rolled I was stunned by the elegance and care of how the plot explored and developed these narrative themes. To help giving bulk to the simplicity there is a substantial amount of masterfully directed scenes in this game. The script is so strong that it was able to add depth to Kratos. The writers were so intelligent and respectful of the people who played previous entries in the franchise, because they did not try to redeem him. Credit to Matthew Sophos, Richard Zangrande Gaubert and Cory Barlog. The combination of the Acting with the work done by the Animation team is irreprehensible, engaging you in each scene and generating empathy without ever resorting to cheap theatrical tricks. The highlight, for me, is the acting range of Christopher Judge (Kratos). And the Cinematography… The decision of not doing camera cuts is not a gimmick. It REALLY makes a difference when those painterly shots arrive. Filming the scene in one take may be unnoticeable, but moving a camera along a scenario that is charged with emotion, and then the beautiful frame arrives… You’ve been unconsciously building up sensitivity to that context, so, now, you’re truly in. Emmanuel Lubezki would be proud of this team of cinematographers: Dori Arazi, Zach Demas and Megan Goldbeck. Adding to this artistry, there are gameplay loops and systems that not only are a blast to interact with, but were also carefully designed to be logical with the themes being explored and transmitted by the game. Kratos is foreign to this land, Atreus is still learning about the world and both have different things to teach to each other, in combat and in exploration. The progression does not use the story as a device to move things along. On the contrary, you sense that the story is moving because of the “leveling up” you did through gameplay. Their relationship with the world and with each other evolves and, as such, you get to see them interact in a very organic way through cinematography. There’s never a disconnect when Kratos evolution is represented by new moves and techniques to a foreign weapon (Leviathan), or collecting trinkets to upgrade it, but the upgrading has to be done by characters of this new world and not by him. He also gains experience through fighting the same enemy more than once, or exploring the environment, because Atreus has all the myths and lore about these monsters, epic ancient battles and gods engraved into his mind, which makes perfect sense. When I was his age I dreamt awake of these fantasies. Atreus’ presence is also smartly designed in combat. First, you have a dedicated button for his actions, which not only creates a literal physical connection with this character, but also makes it clear what’s the hierarchy in these situations: Kratos has more than 6 buttons at his disposable, Atreus only accounts for 1. Still, this doesn’t mean that Atreus is secondary to combat; quite the opposite. By choosing a very close over-the-shoulder perspective during action, and with increasingly more varied combat encounters due to the exploring of lands and realms with their own battle lore, it is not unusual for Kratos to become surrounded by enemies that can only be beaten with a particular technique he’s just learned. So, to get a time window to think and execute the new tricks at his disposable, it is vital to use that Atreus button to attack those enemies that aren’t in your field of vision. This is a prime example of how videogames can establish a relationship between characters through challenge and interactivity. Another great case for videogames as the best medium to make you care about a world, after you journey through it, is the post-credits scene of God of War. I’ve seen a lot of those in movies in recent years, but none come close to this level of mystifying a story. And I want to end this review by touching again on the subject of choosing to change the camera perspective from God of War “classic” to this new one. I must admit I was on the fence about it. Not because I had anything against this style, but because I’ve had been witnessing a lot of franchises abandoning that more distanced positioning, which has generated so many memorable moments in terms of choreographed vistas. After a few minutes in, you know why the team led by Cory Barlog made that bet. It makes so much sense thematically: You are moving forward in this journey; it is paramount to always see Kratos’ back even while exploring; he is doing his catharsis by moving forward but his back is still heavy with burden. And if you notice how Sony Santa Monica handled the grandeur of mythology this time, it also makes sense why the camera is so close to our characters. Myth and lore are treated as cultural heritage, as ever-present fears and dreams that change our vision of the world, but through introspection. Whereas previously, gods and monsters were front and center. The notion of play in games was still very attached to objects and bodies. As the medium evolves, we get a new offer: play with thoughts.