God of War 3 review: this is the way it ends

God of War 3 is more than an action game: it’s the conclusion to a commercially successful and critically acclaimed series that acts as the ‘face’ of Sony’s entire gaming brand; what Master Chief is to Microsoft and Mario is to Nintendo, Kratos is to Sony. As such, God of War III was burdened with a Herculean set of tasks. But while it lives up to the high bar set by the previous installments, it can’t quite bear the weight of bringing the epic story of Kratos to a meaningful end. It’s still a finely crafted action experience that fully showcases the PS3's immense capabilities but it isn't the satisfying conclusion that fans both want and need.

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  4.5 average rating from 51 votes

Talk about high expectations: as the final chapter in what is arguably the most successful action game franchise ever created, God of War III has a lot of things it needs to accomplish. One, it has to be a huge commercial success; two, it has to showcase the full capabilities of the PS3 hardware and raise the bar in terms of visual quality and gameplay refinement; and finally, it has to cap off the series' narrative arc in a way that not only meets fan expectations but brings all of the threads together into a cohesive and satisfying end.
God of War III gets the first two things right (or will, in the case of the sales numbers-even though the PS3 has a comparatively smaller installed base than the PS2 or original PlayStation, you can safely expect God of War III will become a best seller) but it doesn't do the most important thing: bring the story of Kratos to a meaningful end. Because God of War III is the culmination of one of the most iconic action game franchises, there's a lot hanging in the balance. Kratos isn't some meathead mindlessly pounding his way to the end credits: there's a lot of history and subtext to his one-man war against Mount Olympus, and there was a tremendous amount of pressure to bring everything to a showstopping conclusion.

The opening moments of God of War III are amazing, topping even the memorable Colosuss of Rhodes fight from God of War II.

But God of War III doesn't do that, delivering instead a weak and uneven narrative that's full of plot holes; it's a small vulnerability in an otherwise stellar game, but that's all you need to bring down a hero sometimes -- just ask Achilles. I've invested a lot of time and energy into Kratos' journey, and I both wanted and needed God of War III to make sense of the whole thing. There is an admirable attempt made to tie up all the loose ends and give some meaning to Kratos' struggle, but the narrative lacks the sense of momentum and drive that made the series so special. The quality of the actual gaming experience, and what the game means to the PS3, is undeniable, but from a storytelling perspective, I consider it a bit of a failure.
The last image most gamers have of Kratos is him scaling Mount Olympus on the back of the Titan Gaia towards a climatic confrontation with Zeus. God of War III wisely picks up right at that point, and while the initial fight up to the peak is awe-inspiring -- the introductory sequence bests the previous high-water mark for the series, the Colossus of Rhodes fight from God of War II -- things soon go awry. After letting you get this close to Zeus, the dev team pushes the reset button on Kratos and sends him back to the beginning where he once again loses all of his powers and gear; as a narrative device, it's a little cheap but it's forgivable considering the circumstances. If they'd let you fight Zeus right there and then, the game would be over in about two hours. But what's really problematic about the whole thing is how it's handled: the way Kratos is kicked off the mountain is not only a little ridiculous but incredibly anti-climatic as well. Without ruining anything, Zeus essentially goes "Shoo," and sends Kratos back to the starting line.

God of War III fully leverages the power of the PS3, delivering visuals that are some of the best I've seen on any console.

The plot incongruities slowly start to pile up from there: for one, you're kicked out of the way in the middle of an epic battle between the gods of Olympus and the Titans but you sort of get lost in your own little adventure, and the war, which would seem like it should be a focal point, fades into the background. Also odd is the fact that the assembled gods of Olympus show up to test you along the way but Zeus remains curiously absent throughout. It's almost as though he's purposefully turning a blind eye to everything, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense considering his estranged son brings a war into what is essentially his living room.
There's a moment in the first God of War when Ares kills Kratos by throwing a piece of rock halfway across creation and it isn't a stretch to assume Zeus could do something similar because so much is made of the fact that he isn't just a god but the god; and yet, rather than just snap his fingers and turn Kratos into a pile of ash, he ignores him and only pops up after Kratos has accumulated the power to destroy him. It's weak characterization and it's especially disappointing when you compare him to Kratos, a character whose plight and motivation is never in question. We know what makes him tick but what about Zeus? He's a central character in the narrative arc and yet, he almost lives backstage, appearing only when it's convenient to the plot; he's literally a deus ex machina. There's an attempt made at the end that tries to explain his behavior but it's a convenient plot device -- it's the Greek myth equivalent of the "temporary insanity" defense -- that doesn't quite work. All of this may not seem like a big deal to some of you but these are the sorts of questions I, as a gamer who's fully invested himself into the franchise, want answered and addressed, and I have a right to feel disappointed if they're not.

The war between the Titans and the gods of Olympus curiously fades into the background during Kratos' adventure.

This isn't to say that the story is completely devoid of poignancy and meaning. There are actually a few moments of note, including one involving Kevin Sorbo of all people -- he appropriately voices Hercules, who is also a son of Zeus, and though he isn't around for long, I appreciated the angst and pathos that he brought to his "scene"; he shows a genuine bit of emotion that adds a subtle layer of complexity to Kratos' relationship with Zeus. Kratos' interaction with Zeus' wife Hera is also interesting because of the way he ultimately deals with her; it's jarringly abrupt, to say the least, but it's perfectly in keeping with who Kratos has become at that point in the proceedings. You really start to see just how firmly in control the nihilistic side of his personality is: it's made abundantly clear at times that his mad quest for vengeance has ramifications far greater than his spiteful relationship with his father but Kratos makes it just as clear that he doesn't care: he's got something he needs to do and nothing, not even the destruction of the entire world, will delay him. As he slowly works his way through Mount Olympus' pantheon, you start to see visible signs of the effect that Kratos is having on the world, and the fact that he won't allow that to affect him is a powerful testament to the strenght of his will; so much could have been done with this but it's ultimately wasted on a thin storyline that meanders its way to an anti-climatic finish.
That God of War III fumbles the opportunity to leave a deep and lasting impression is especially unfortunate because it's been improved in just about every other way. Taken just as an action game, God of War III is terrific, rivaling the best of what's available not only on the PS3 but all platforms. It looks and feels like a generational step-up from the last title, with visuals that top games like Uncharted 2 and Killzone 2. There is a much needed refinement inherent in the gameplay as well: they've eliminated most of the clutter that plagued the past two titles and the teeth-gratingly difficult timing and block moving puzzles are a thing of the past.

Undead Spartans rise up against you with their trademark shield formation; it'll take more strength than usual to break through the ranks.

New weapons and abilities like the Army of Sparta, a 300 inspired ability which summons shield-bearing Spartans around Kratos along with a hailstorm of arrows onto the battlefield, and the Cestus -- a pair of lion-faced gauntlets that pack an Incredible Hulk-like wallop -- are welcome additions to the arsenal, even if the sheer number of tools at your disposal makes inventory management a clumsy chore. Certain moments also standout, like the clever use of the Icarus Wings as a mode of long-range travel, and the only thing missing from some of the memorable boss encounters is a booming voice shouting "Finish him!" as you deliver the gruesome final blow. The exquisitely rendered environments flow nicely into one another and though there is some backtracking involved, you never stay in one area long enough to grow tired of it; you'll travel from the heights of Mount Olympus all the way to the depths of Hades and back, and even if it doesn't always make sense from a narrative perspective, the actual journey itself is epic and grand.
It shouldn't come as a surprise that God of War III is a great action experience: although each game in the series was helmed by a different creative director -- Stig Asmussen, who worked on God of War III, took over for Cory Barlog, who, in turn, took over for David Jaffe -- they promoted from within the development team, meaning there is a sense of consistency throughout the entire franchise. The formula never changed: it was just refined and tweaked to fit the unique visions of the individual director. But the ever changing leadership hurt the games when it came to continuity, and God of War III's botched attempt to weave all the individual threads into a coherent ending leads me to believe the trilogy was conceived in parts rather than as a whole. Director Stig Asmussen had to incorporate the bits and pieces that Barlog and Jaffe left behind, and that makes God of War III feel like a Frankenstein construct of parts that don't seamlessly fit together. Because of this, there is a lot of plot filler of the "Hey, remember when you did this? Well, this is what happened as a result," variety.

Kratos is the star of the show but he is just a tiny speck compared to some of the other characters in the game.

My problem with God of War III's narrative basically boils down to this: Whenever I reach the end of a story that I've truly invested myself in, I always walk away feeling as though I've said farewell to a good friend with whom I went on a long and meaningful journey. It's a bittersweet moment, and I'm always left feeling equally thankful and sad that I've reached the end of the road. I didn't fully feel that with God of War III, and while this doesn't completely ruin the fun, it definitely affects my overall enjoyment of it. It still earns high marks because it's a tremendously well crafted action experience and I recognize some fans simply won't care that the story is weak -- they'll be happy just to take part in the spectacle (and what a spectacle it is). I also can't discount what an important piece of the puzzle this is for Sony; God of War III, along with recent releases like Heavy Rain and the impending Final Fantasy XIII, should give the company a strong boost in the traditional post-holiday lull. But as a fan who actually cares about Kratos and his plight, I found it to be a bit of a letdown. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed the journey, I can't help but feel disappointed by the way Kratos chose to say goodbye at the end of it
PROS: A great action experience, with plenty of thrills and memorable moments; improves upon the franchise formula in almost every tangible way.
CONS: It doesn't bring the story to a satisfying conclusion and the attempts to make sense of Kratos' journey ultimately fall flat.

Prince of Persia:The Forgotten Sands Review

“It’s not the game of the film,” we’re told of The Forgotten Sands, though you can see where the confusion begins. The game is released on the same day as Bruckheimer’s blockbuster, and while our digital hero doesn’t share Jake Gyllenhaal’s likeness, he has at least been ruffling through his wardrobe.

But no matter. Timing and aesthetic dalliances aside, Forgotten Sands is very much its own thing: yet another reboot of our lithe Prince. We were here just two years ago, the last time Ubisoft decided to give our royal hero a makeover. And with yet another image change, you start to wonder if the developers are throwing the baby out with the bathwater in order to placate ... well, I’m not sure who, exactly.
At least this time there is a goal: to turn back the clock seven years and recapture the magic of Sands of Time, widely regarded as the series high watermark. So all traces of 2008’s Prince Of Persia reboot has vanished; the pretty cel-shading, the roguish Prince, the instant restarts by the hand of the gorgeous Princess Elika. All gone, replaced with last generation’s time-reversal mechanic and a smattering of new ideas.
Ultimately, though, we’re on familiar ground - or walls - here. The Forgotten Sands goes old-school, relegating its story (the Prince’s brother, Malik, unwittingly unleashes a demonic sand army into his palace, you have to send it back) to brief interstitial cutscenes. Its only logic is to push you on, throwing up new challenges and granting you new powers at key points.
Otherwise it’s the same wall-running and pole-swinging that made the Prince such a hit. Though you perhaps wouldn’t guess it from the game’s opening, dropping you into a depressingly brown, war-torn castle. It’s a typically bombastic opening; swathes of soldiers smash into each other below the rampart you’re standing on, and in the middle distance, a horde of guys in armour come charging your position, spoiling for a rumble.
Prince of Persia has never been renowned for its combat and The Forgotten Sands isn’t about to challenge the perception. Swordplay isn’t terrible as such, but it is rather uninspiring. The Prince attempts to swing with elegance, pirouetting in between enemies before smacking them upside the head. But he moves as if cutting through treacle; slow and slightly laboured. In your hands it’s gluey and unresponsive. It has its moments; booting a skeleton off a ledge is always good for a laugh and the Prince can cheerfully jump on the heads of these ghouls, hopping between each one before flipping into the air and ramming his sword down an exposed gullet.
So the combat is gloopy and a little bland, but not entirely unpleasant –a bit like rice pudding. But, and not looking to labour an analogy, we need a juicy dollop of jam to sweeten things up. The Prince’s greatest strength has always been his heady, exhilarating form of parkour. Scuttling across and up walls, swinging from handy poles, defying gravity and death as he scoots over spinning razor blades sweeping across walls (Persia’s essential home defence accessory). Hurling the Prince across great chasms is as easy and approachable as ever, and it becomes clear where the focus in the game’s engine lies. While this could have gone someway to explain the rather disparate fighting, with the two disciplines never quite feeling part of the same whole, The Forgotten Sands uses the same engine as Assassin’s Creed II, a game in which the climbing and combat always felt connected. Quite what has been lost in translation is unclear, but it remains a regular blemish on the series.
The platforming is enjoyable and familiar enough. Maybe too familiar, The Sands of Time is seven years old, and throughout your first hours of The Forgotten Sands, the template can show its age. To pepper the clambering with some variation, the Prince is granted the power to solidify water which gushes out all over the place in Malik’s palace. Waterfalls become walls to run on and spurts become convenient swinging poles. It’s a neat trick, but quickly starts to feel like just another button to hold down as you negotiate the palace’s terrain. And it’s all rather charmless, as the Prince (a prissy twit, it has to be said), in his brown vest, runs across a brown wall up to a brown ledge where he fights some brown ghouls. It’s all a bit dull, frankly, and you start to wonder just what this new makeover brings to the Prince of Persia canon, aside from pounding old ground. And brown.
But then, the game blooms. Slowly, at first. A growing confidence in ideas begins to mould more elaborate playgrounds. The odd cinematic set-piece raises the pulse. That water mechanic starts to make a great deal more sense, as you flip across frozen poles, re-liquefying the water to leap through a tumbling waterfall, solidifying it again to grab the next spurt of water guiding your path. Giant, head-scratching clockwork puzzles break up the action. And before you know it, colour starts to creep into the environments; detailed baths, tiled in blue and gold mosaic; luscious green roof gardens, and an arresting scene as the Prince clambers up the outside of the palace, spires twisting below while the Persian sun glistens on the horizon. It’s a shame that the time-rewind isn’t used to more effect than just correcting mistakes and bringing you back from the dead, but further powers add kinks to the platforming. Even the combat starts to pick up, with a pleasant upgrade muddle of elemental powers to unleash on your ghastly enemies.
As the game reaches its zenith, you find yourself propelled forward, enjoying a new-found sense of pacing. That stodgy opening but a distant memory as all the powers you have gathered coalesce into a formidable arsenal, tackling huge vertical puzzles that get bigger and more intricate, with your fingers needing to be as nimble as the Prince on screen. By the end, the Prince is still the same twit, but the world he inhabits has developed a character, even if it can take a while to reveal itself.
So, yes, to an extent, The Forgotten Sands does capture some of that Sands of Time magic. That’s a credit to Ubisoft and the game’s greatest strength, but also its biggest flaw. That we have to go back to 2003 for inspiration says a lot about Prince of Persia, a video game series seemingly stuck in a cycle of identity crises. As a game in the here and now, The Forgotten Sands can feel dated, its hero outshone by glossy new kids on the block like Nathan Drake. The Forgotten Sands is certainly fun while it lasts, but you can’t help but wonder where next for our fair Prince of Persia. It’s a puzzle that cannot be solved by just another makeover.