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It is the nature of the thing that matters. Not its form.

Kratos, God of War: Ragnarok

Unless you’re not a gamer or have been living under a rock for the past month, you’re likely already inundated with reviews and takes on God of War: Ragnarok. The latest installment of the God of War series is a direct sequel to the 2018 title, which was a departure in style from the original PS2+ series in gameplay but following the same narrative.

There’s a lot to say about every aspect of the series, but this being a site on writing, I figure I’ll keep my focus mostly there and briefly get the rest out of the way. I’ve played every game in the series, and I have to admit that I prefer the older gameplay to the modern, but that’s about all I can favor.

God of War began as a pretty simple tale. Kratos, a Spartan finding himself near death, pledges his life to Ares, the God of War, and is given the power to save his life. Afterward, that power consumes him and Ares uses him as a tool of bloodshed, ultimately leading to Kratos murdering his own family, breaking that fugue state, and pledging revenge on Ares. Kratos succeeds, killing Ares and taking his role as the God of War. This leads to a domino effect of betrayal and violence that ends up destroying the entire Greek Pantheon over the subsequent games, which destroys Greece.

In the gap between the older games and the 2018 revisit, Kratos finds himself entering Norse mythology. He has withdrawn from the world to live a simple life where he can no longer be used as a monster against the gods. He found a new wife and they have a child, Atreus. That game begins after his wife’s death and the whole thing is centered around him carrying out a promise he made to her of how she wanted her ashes disposed. Granted, a lot happens over the course of that promise, but that is the focus and where things end – given what the past games were, it’s a much smaller story with less spectacle. More grounded, if killing gods and speaking with giant snakes and carrying around a living, disembodied head can fit your definition of grounded.

Ragnarok is, on it’s face, a bigger story than 2018. It’s about prophecy and, of course, the end of the world – Ragnarok, in Norse mythology. Beyond that, however, it’s about fatherhood. Repentance. Growth. Forgiveness.

It seems a lot of modern continuations of stories are embarrassed of what they were. They avoid what started them, sidestep what they might consider problematic, or try to elevate new, “better” characters by denigrating the ones we came to love. This certainly could have been something they did with Kratos, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried they’d do just that. The Kratos we were introduced to and lived with for so many years was a monster. He didn’t kill to survive or make things better, he murdered as vengeance, so full of wrath that nothing was allowed to survive. He butchered civilians to revitalize himself, gouged out the eyes of gods, ripped them apart, and even when faced with the knowledge that what he was doing was ruining the world he inhabited, he didn’t stop. He had been wronged, and he would not stop paying back that wrong until everyone responsible was dead.

And then they were. Did that make anything better? No. No, and over the hundreds (a thousand?) years he spent wandering alone after destroying Greece he came to realize just how damaging vengeance was. This is where we meet up with him in the modern games. He’s older. Subdued. Still every bit as brusque and pointed as before, but now that sternness is directed at raising a son capable of surviving a world brutal enough to have created the man Kratos was.

2018 was focused on that aspect. Focused on the struggle for Kratos to build Atreus into a man capable of standing on his own, all the while trying his damnedest not to fall back into his old ways when the Norse gods begin to interfere with his once-peaceful life. There are steps forward and back, but gods die and Kratos finds himself right back in the path of danger, and his son on that same path. In saving people he cares about, Kratos turns them into enemies.

Ragnarok brings that focus back to the forefront. Four years have passed since the end of the last game. Atreus is a teenager now. He is capable and proactive, but that comes with an overconfidence and a need to be done with hiding. The events of the last game have brought about a perpetual winter that is fabled to lead to Ragnarok, and Atreus wants to get out there and get involved preventing the end of the world. He has learned of his destiny and wishes to be the champion he is fabled to be. Kratos believes they are not yet ready to face what lies before them and does what he can to keep his boy restrained. He fails, and Atreus’ growing powers break their protection.

Atreus feels he is being overlooked and no one listens. Kratos worries that his son is running headlong into becoming what he once was. Odin, the master manipulator, is overtly working to recruit the boy under his wing by playing on his need to be taken seriously. These three make the primary push and pull of the game – have you been lied to about what Odin is up to? Is Odin not as bad as the stories say? Does Atreus have what it takes to ride the line and not give in to his own grandeur? Can Kratos keep his boy from the darkness that consumed him? Who is in the right? And how can Ragnarok be prevented?

This story is really a masterpiece. Every previous game is treated with such care – you feel Kratos’ growth as a person, the pain he feels in knowing what he wrought in his youth, the worry over his son and the people he cares about. Atreus’ need to save his father and the world is palpable. Every side character is unique, loved, and developed. Some that seemed to be nothing but tension-breakers and relief in 2018 and this game become the most well-developed characters in media. I want to go into more so, so badly, but I don’t want to spoil anything!

There are callbacks to every past game. Payoffs to things from decades ago. There are falls and redemptions as well as beautiful lessons on growth and how to treat others. Remarkable character arcs. And, wait for it, they actually make sense! The characters’ motivations and personalities drive the story as they should. Not to mention how far technology has come – you can pick up shifts in conversation from the body language and facial expressions of the characters. It’s a feat, really.

I really just can’t express how much love went into this damn thing. I want to vent about all of it with someone that’s played, but apparently I’m the only one of my friends who’s had the privilege so far. Hoping that changes. Maybe now that it’s won most everything at the Game Awards, they can pick it up. Most everything but Game of the Year, which went to Elden Ring.

Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.