‘God of War Ragnar?k’ : An Emotional Odyssey Through Fatherhood

How can we be better for our children? Can anyone ever truly change? Those are the questions at the core of God of War Ragnar?k, the ninth(!!!) installment of the now iconic PlayStation series.

By the events of 2018’s soft reboot God of War, Kratos, the titular god, has spent a lifetime acting out violent delights in service of his own grief for being a bad father (Bad like, “accidentally killing his own wife and daughter” bad). It’s been years since he chose to leave behind his blood soaked past in Greece and move to a foreign land, starting over with renewed purpose: a wife and son. But that illusion is shattered when said wife, a beautiful hay-haired warrior named Faye, dies of (gasp) natural causes, leaving him alone to raise their adolescent son, Atreus. Soon after, an invincible Aesir God named Baldur shows up at their doorstep and trouble has come knocking once more. Kratos and son flee, beginning a journey that leads to personal revelations, inner growth, and obviously, a litany of godly corpses in their wake.

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It cannot be understated how massive a reinvention the 2018 game was for the series. In the 13 years since the series began on the PlayStation 2, the gaming industry had changed dramatically. The original series (now the “Greek saga”), consisting of a trilogy of games and a handful of prequels, was peak mid-2000s entertainment. Cheesy, gratuitous, and immensely shallow, it glorified bloodlust and “cool shit” above all else. The basic plot is that Kratos is betrayed by Ares, the OG God of War and must get revenge. He does and is betrayed again – vows revenge again. And again. And again?

Kratos was the definitive edgelord – an unstoppable Gary Stu whose absolute hard-on for death meant he could kill anyone who stood before him in increasingly gory ways (and himself bang a few hookers along the way). The series capped at 2010’s God of War III, a game so violent it bordered on torture porn. I’ll never forget the image of Kratos ripping Helios’ head from its shoulders with a soul-wrenching scream and skin-stretching effects. Obviously, any kind of reinvention of PlayStation’s gore hound mascot would turn heads. How could this macabre, often misogynistic relic of a pre-mature gaming boom come back. But in the hands of a gifted team at Sony’s Santa Monica Studio, 2018’s God of War was a fantastic departure. It was pensive and moody, with touches of (cruelty-free) humor. The characters were likable, yet flawed – shit, there actually were characters. Kratos was now older, wiser, and remorseful for his actions. His son, Atreus, respectful of his father but curious about the nature of his world, brought a previously non-existent counter-weight to the relentless edginess of the originals. Motion capture and vocal performances by newcomers Christopher Judge (Kratos) and Sunny Suljic (Atreus) brought unforeseen gravitas and humanity to proceedings. And even the gameplay – the only part of the Greek-era to emerge relatively unblemished – was vastly superior. It left a cataclysmic mark on the industry that year and was instantly thrust into the conversation around “the greatest game of all time.”

But how can we be better?

Announced as the finale to the “Norse saga” of the series, the developers made it clear from the outset that they’d be throwing everything they had into this latest entry. Spoilers aside, this may not be the end of the God of War series, but it is the end of God of War as we know it. And that’s (mostly) for the better.

The plot of Ragnar?k is dense, but it is first and foremost about shitty dads. Kratos himself is the expert, having killed both his own daughter and father– the King of the Gods, Zeus. The crux is his internal struggle with being an inherently bad person who often bends the will of reality to align with his desires. How can he be an effective father without the moral compass a mother had brought? Played with vocal heft and a soul-deep fatigue, Christopher Judge pulls double duty crafting a Kratos that is unlike any other seen before. Firstly, he’s super chill… for the most part. The supporting cast, including dwarven brothers Brok and Sindri, as well as the disembodied head of “the smartest man alive” Mimir (among others more spoilery) routinely chastise Kratos for overstepping with fatherly control, reminding him not to unleash the beast. And he doesn’t! The fact that Kratos has actually set aside his unquenchable rage is one of numerous bits that may alienate some fans – specifically ones who clung to the inane shallowness and trashy qualities of the original series. It’s astounding to think that a series whose central thesis amounted to “fuck you, got mine” for seven installments could come this far in the same medium. Kratos has gone from your least favorite nu metal-loving Millennial starting fights at a college bar to a bearded Brooklyn dad who only eats farm-to-table and is super into his kid. People will tell you he’s gone soft. Ignore those people.

But Kratos isn’t the game’s only bad dad (filicide aside). The writers do a respectable job of covering all the bases clearly mined from their own personal therapy sessions. There’s the God of Thunder, Thor, whose depiction here inspired ire online from people who think peak masculinity can only be defined by Chris Hemsworth’s current ab count. Thor is an alcoholic and a deadbeat who, although mourning the deaths of his sons Magni and Modi at the hands of the Kratos and kin, has clearly never been there for his family. It’s an inspired take, one that coincidentally shares a lot of the characterizations of Marvel’s cinematic take on Thor in Avengers: Endgame, but shies away from turning Thor’s substance abuse, body weight, and general mental health issues into punchlines. Like most physically strong people with inadequacy complexes and drinking problems, he’s a fucking threat. Tread carefully, Kratos.

That leaves Odin, played here by Emmy-winning star of The West Wing, Richard Schiff. Odin is probably the shittiest of the dads, having mentally abused both his sons, Thor and the late Baldur, but like his mafioso smarm implies, he’s just a downright shyster. Schiff imbues the All-Father with a level of sleaze more befitting a consigliere than the regality of a god, and it’s certainly a choice. Count this as another thing people might be upset about based on their preconceived notions of what godliness incurs. Ignore them as well.

Speaking of the plot, there’s a lot of it and the game is a victim of its own hype. Four years in the echo chamber have left expectations astronomically high and for the most part, the game delivers on what’s expected from a modern fantasy epic. It’s an extremely safe, often predictable tale about a group of folks fighting to stave off the end of days with some twists along the way. In that aspect, it’s a little disappointing, but that’s not to undercut the many parts that do work.

After a bombastic start teased in the first trailers for the game, in which Kratos and Atreus are visited by an angry Thor at their homestead, things quickly go downhill for the father/son duo. After hastily setting the stakes and using some simple narrative devices to buy everyone some time to start plotting (Don Odin’s got an offer you can’t refuse!), things kick into gear.

Let’s just get this out of the way because it’s by far the biggest change made to the gameplay and story: For the first time ever, you now play as both Kratos and Atreus, alternating back and forth on their individual paths after the lad is separated from the group for plot purposes. This happens just a few hours into the game and comprises maybe 30% of the main campaign, so it’s not an insubstantial note to make. There are people who will hate this. Atreus plays interestingly enough but it is a huge shift in tone when he takes the reins. Often, it’s a positive thing, as his perspective fleshes out the turmoil between a controlling father who wants to protect his son and said son, who just wants to be his own man – destiny be damned! It works in stride, although Atreus takes a chapter from Sony’s Modern Gaming Hero Handbook, perpetually monologuing to himself à la Nathan Drake, Peter Parker, any number of Ratchets and Clanks. When he’s without the storytelling aid of companion NPCs to banter with in between enemies, Atreus is at a loss. But he’s a kid, I suppose; they just talk to talk – don’t worry, he makes some “friends” too. Kratos himself is at no such disadvantage, still carrying the disembodied head of poor Mimir around his waist like a flesh-bound lanyard whose sole purpose is to spout exposition and “previously ons” (the God of Lore).

This is all well-worn territory – but one of the most welcome additions to the setting comes directly from the Dynasty of our times, the Fast & Furious Saga: family. Kratos has long been a loner, but 2018’s title paired him with both a son and a small supporting cast of dwarves and Vanir to help flesh out his newfound characterization. Here, the chains are off as Kratos has mostly reached the fulcrum of his character arc as a functioning adult, leaving some wheels spinning. The best move is the obvious one, which is slotting him into an uneasy alliance of super folk with diametrically opposed personalities. It’s tough to imagine that “fish out of water” antics would work for the God of War series but there you have it. Positioning Kratos as someone who can begrudgingly take a group mocking is what allows the character to thrive when he most definitely should have already sunk. But it’s that dynamic, alongside the general themes surrounding fatherhood that lend the game its surprisingly hopeful tone amid a melancholic backdrop. It also means that the game suffers from what many would consider “Marvel-isms.” The notion of a group of heroic (and anti-heroic) individuals working together, quipping their way into undercutting serious moments is itself a meme at this point, but it’s all here. It’s a credit to the writers that the individual personalities and character dynamics that they’ve built, alongside some better judgement about when a joke should land, lead to everything meshing nicely. It’s certainly leaps and bounds better a godly epic than some recent Marvelous outings.

But how does it play? Everything about the gameplay in this installment is iterative at best. That’s not inherently a bad thing when the mechanics are this good, but it at times feels like Santa Monica Studio is resting on their laurels. God of War has always been a leader in the action genre as games with blistering, white knuckle combat wherein Kratos dispatches hordes of creatures with panache, punctuated by clever puzzling and QTE (Quick Time Events) that often bring the cinematic flair to the viscera. God of War (2018) delivered on a total reinvention of the formula, positioning the players behind Kratos for a more intimate, less acrobatically stylized viewpoint of the action. Such a reinvention doesn’t apply here as the gameplay – down to almost every skill available – is nearly the same as in the previous installment. Even the enemies (and the animations used to kill them) are overly familiar. You’ll find trolls, Valkyries, dark elves and more – but none if it feels as fresh or purposeful as the first time around.

In 2018, replacing Kratos signature Blade of Chaos with the (ironically) Mj?lnir-esque Leviathan Axe was a stroke of genius – creating quite possibly the best feeling verb in all of gaming as players can heave the axe at enemies and recall at will, leading to wildly satisfying combat that’s somehow both crunchy and fluid. Of course the iconic Blades of Chaos are reintroduced later in that title, and the devs here have made the conscious decision to grant players access to both weapons to swap through from the get go. This opens up a sea of options for changing combat styles on-the-fly. There is, of course, a new third weapon brought into the fold in Ragnar?k and it plays just as differently from these two kits as they do one another. All of this, plus the ability to upgrade sprawling skill trees for both Kratos and companions, select and upgrade runic abilities, spells, and more all lead to a near confounding level of complexity in gameplay.

At times, it can be almost too much. As with its predecessor, I often found myself mistakenly pressing the wrong input to swap weapons or accidentally entering Rage Mode that depleted my hard-earned meter. The issue eased in time as my brain and fingers attuned to the dexterity required of them, but there were points even late game where I was whiffing a crucial weapon swap that left me vulnerable to an encounter-ending death. By late game with all available skills, weapon swaps, and companion abilities, players can have about 70 different actions they can choose from in a starting position. That’s a fuck-ton of options. That sounds like a complaint (it isn’t) but just to be clear – this is a nightmare for your video game-phobic friends. None of this is a slight against what the devs have created here, it’s the Mona Lisa of murder. If you’ve put in the time to get muscle memory and instinct on tap, there are moments of savage perfection that are some of the best ever created in a video game. The series has always been at its best when taking a grossly overpowered god-killer like Kratos and somehow still making him the underdog, and those moments come aplenty especially on higher difficulties. Victories are hard won, and breathless relief is the ultimate reward after you’ve successfully flayed a dragon’s throat like decasing a sausage.

Like the incremental gameplay changes, the visuals, too, fail to be a quantum leap forward. Yes, this is a profoundly gorgeous game on the PlayStation 5 (I did not test it on a PlayStation 4 or PlayStation 4 Pro), but it suffers from the same issue that hindered Sony’s other big AAA-blockbuster sequel, Horizon Forbidden West. Simply put, this is a PlayStation 4 game on steroids. There’s not enough space here to pontificate on all the reasons we should leave last-gen consoles in well… the last generation, but the fact is these titles function as cross-generational half-steps. They both play almost identically to their predecessors, relying entirely on quality of life improvements over innovative new systems. And although they are very pretty, they rarely achieve the visual fidelity of games like The Last of Us Part I or Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart – games that were designed solely around the PS5’s capabilities. Sure, both Ragnar?k and Forbidden West are attempting to render open sandbox worlds, but the latter manages to do it with greater facial detail and less muddy textures that creep into the corner of your eye. Neither game takes advantage of the PS5’s DualSense controller to any notable degree either, there’s just a little extra oomph in the rumble and some wonky touchpad support for map and inventory selection (that’s finicky at best).

So, how can we be better? That’s for the developers to decide next time! But despite the lingering feeling that there could be something more there, God of War Ragnar?k is still damned good. Barring a PR disaster, it’s destined to be a Game of the Year contender and rightfully so. There isn’t a better action game on the market for fans of the series or those just looking for a well-polished 50-hour sojourn into their own feelings.

God of War Ragnar?k launches on PlayStation 4 & 5 on Nov. 9.

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