God of War Ragnarok review: a thrilling but heartfelt blockbuster triumph
In the wake of 2018’s wildly successful God of War reboot, former lead combat designer Vince Napoli lifted the curtain on one of the game’s –no, one of gaming’s– most satisfying mechanic: the boomerang recall of titular deity Kratos’ Leviathan Axe.
Kratos hurls his totemic weapon with terrifying force, before the tap of a button brings it spiralling back to his outstretched hand with a shudder, slicing and dicing anything it passes on its way home. In a Game Developer blog post Napoli detailed the attention that went into honing the mechanic: whether to wiggle free from trees, the right arc, the exact amount of time before waiting for its return became too long (1.5 seconds, by the way). Particular credit went to engineer George Mawle, who sadly passed away last year. It’s a fascinating read for those with an interest in the nitty-gritty of game development; but playing, watching or reading, it all leads to the same conclusion: throwing the axe feels bloody good.
God of War: Ragnarok is all about feel. Its predecessor was too, but as is the way with video game sequels, everything is heightened and expanded. Even your senses. So the axe’s muscular heft in combat crunches against mythical Nordic beasts; thumping, frozen swings meeting flesh, the axe thrown and embedded into some other ghoul turned to ice, a few hammering fists and a boot for good measure while its away, before being recalled and used to separate head from neck in a visceral show of blood and sinew.
Kratos has his Blades of Chaos from the start; deadly, whirling chains doused in fire and attached to the wrist; groups are swatted in a criss-cross lightshow. Harpoon a floating eyeball, yank it towards you before crushing it to goo in your hand. Both blades thud into a bigger foe, a pulse of flame rattling down the chains and igniting your target. That feels bloody good too.
That weight isn’t just in combat either. As you travel the realms of Norse mythology snowstorms whip and snarl in Midgard, the towering contraptions of the dwarves of Svartalfheim crunch and clank. You will twist levers and grapple walls, axe aimed in a careful loop to sever writhing dark matter in the bowels of elven Alfheim. And have you ever seen a vengeful god use a key? Kratos doesn’t just unlock doors, he smashes the key into the lock before yanking them open as if they had wronged him. Which, in a way, they did: by getting in his way. Ditto chests, lids pummeled to splinters so you can liberate the treasure inside.
There is a lot of that. Stressing how good God of War is in the hands is important because underneath the formula is comfortingly familiar. Though the framing has moved on of course. Kratos and his son Atreus –less ‘boy’, more adolescent– are sheltered in Midgard during Fimbulwinter, staying out of trouble while Kratos continues to train Atreus. The brutal cold snap is said to be the precursor of Ragnarok, the ordained destruction of the realms of gods and men. Atreus believes there is a way to avoid the apocalypse, if only Dad would agree to travel the realms again to find it. Kratos only wants to protect Atreus for as long as he can, but a violent visit from mobbish All-Father Odin and his brutish son Thor sends them on their way.
So off you pop. Kratos, Atreus and loqacious severed Scottish heid Mimir journeying between realms, fighting beasts, completing clever environmental puzzles that block your way (usually including freezing things, hitting things or setting them on fire) and collecting trinkets and power-ups to unlock new skills and shiny new armour. It has RPG-trappings, but isn’t an RPG, with skill trees and upgradable gear – axe pommels that give +23 strength and slows down time on perfect dodges, lovely big pauldrons with ornate detail and a health boost. It has Metroidvania style gear gating, with tempting locked areas scattered throughout the world blocked by obstacles you don’t have the kit for, but its backtracking is done at your pace and usually because you actually want to see what was behind it.
It is, again like its predecessor, a grab bag of recognisable video game conceits, including those plundered from its own history. But it is all executed with such skill, confidence and absurd expense that it rarely matters that we’ve been here before.
What it does operate in is scale. All that stuff is bigger and more fleshed out; I have spent much more time in Ragnarok thinking about my modest muddle of stats. I looked forward to returning to gobby dwarven smiths Brok and Sindri, for both the foul-mouthed conversation and the upgrades to my shield. The side-missions are something to behold too. While God of War: Ragnarok keeps things moving on a linear track, it will often tempt you with an adventure within the adventure.
Early on in Svartalfheim, a remorseful Mimir pleads with you to investigate a clutch of rigs he set up in a past life to enslave unfortunate dwarves for Odin’s needs. It sends you out boating into a vast lake, giving you time to explore while you junk each contraption, before spinning off in another direction entirely. You are off the main quest for a good couple of hours, but comes with an exploration of the characters’ past, a further grounding in the world and a payoff that goes way beyond a simple XP boost. It feels like it matters, basically, which is a thing many (most?) video games struggle with when it comes to extra-curriculars.
A lot of ‘things mattering’ can be traced to the relationship between Kratos and Atreus, which is unquestionably the driving force behind the game’s narrative. The bond between the two has deepened and Atreus is a more rounded character in his teen years. As he deals with his supposed fate as the saviour of realms and comes into new powers, that this is a parable on growing up is not exactly subtle.
But it doesn’t need to be. It also touches, deftly I thought, on the ingrained parental fear of time running out, of failure, of death. For all of his grumpy demeanour and demands of Atreus, that fear and vulnerability ripples through Kratos as much as his muscles. It is surprisingly touching at times, given that this is a game largely about pulping bad guys with a magic axe. One throwaway moment has Atreus asking why they have embarked on another lengthy sidequest rather than focussing on the task at hand. Mimir gently suggests that it is because Kratos wants to spend more time with his son before the world ends. A quiet moment in the game’s comparatively measured first half that makes the latter game fire, brimstone and narrative gutpunches hit harder.
Some of the previous games’ gripes have been clearly addressed. Perhaps most notable is that the combat benefits from a broader range of enemies to slaughter; mixed into ever-shifting groups that demand a broader mastery of Kratos’ skills and arsenal. Atreus is a much more advanced battle partner too. He has a wicked line in magic arrows, shields, spells and now has the strength to give beasts a good smack with his bow. During fights is he never a burden, only a boon; a now crucial extension of Kratos’ skills who can look after himself.
Until you are given direct control, of course. It probably won’t surprise that Atreus gets his own sections away from Dad in Ragnarok, as he sneaks away to pursue his apparent destiny. These naturally don’t provide quite the crunchy fun that comes with being Kratos, but he is whip-quick and skilled enough that being the boy brings its own kick. And necessarily helps to progress his tale –his life– without his father’s presence. As children growing up are wont to do…
For all of this, God of War Ragnarok does not forget it is, first and foremost, a ‘triple-A’ video game with broad appeal and a grizzled determination for crowd-pleasing pleasures. You will embark on literal rollercoasters, zombie draugrs smashing at your cart. Travel through gorgeous realms that vary in staggering detail and vivid colour. Take on toothy, screen-filling bosses. And, of course, do battle with the villainous gods of Asgard. As quiet and introspective it can be, reserved it is not.
It can’t help but bring some of the inherent drawbacks of excess. There is bloat and meandering at times, particularly near the start. And smashing open a chest every fifty paces for more trinkets, even during some heartfelt conversation, suggests it can’t entirely cut itself free from number-chasing gratification. But God of War: Ragnarok manages to wrangle the best of blockbuster gaming under its muscular control. Spectacle. Excitement. Empowerment. And, well, we all know how that feels, don’t we?
