The God of Abraham, Isaac, And Jacob
Is it possible for the death of a God to become commonplace? You may find yourself wondering just this, as you reach the latter hours of God of War. Is deicide something which may be chewed beyond the point of flavor? Of texture?
Can it occur with such frequency and seeming nonchalance that godkilling ceases - almost - to be a discrete event?
The correct answer, of course, is who gives a shit. God of War is about kicking a hellhound through the uprights at the very apex of the big game. Flashbulbs are exploding everywhere. A bird catches on fire, mysteriously. I should emphasize that this bird was not a phoenix, a creature for whom combustion is an expected (even inevitable) phenomenon. This is a perfectly normal bird, reduced to a sequence of bright frenetic arcs simply because it flew too near God of War III’s explosive stadium atmosphere.
The blood here is so deep that, even standing upright, it marks your chin.
It’s got a couple weird experimental touches, quite welcome, and a nice Portal homage, which secures the Santa Monica Studio in the continuum and greater fraternity of game enthusiasts. It’s an action game whose puzzles shame games for whom puzzles are their defining characteristic. It’s a lavish, kingly production, a shocking accomplishment of technology, a kind of engineering cathedral you can inhabit for a few blissful, perfectly shaped hours.
Still, I’d be surprised if you didn’t arrive at the points enunciated in the first two paragraphs at some point during your playthrough. Some gods get the royal treatment. Some gods are choked briefly, and then die. In the end, every entity - divine or otherwise - that appears on the screen at any time is destined to die by your hand. It was honestly kind of ridiculous after awhile. You might say that’s a spoiler, but if that wasn’t your supposition from Square One, you may be thinking of a different Kratos. You might have been thinking of Kratos Monsanto, who works in accounting.
When you have something of God of War’s stature one always girds oneself for the inevitable sequel, but I honestly don’t know how they could get away with this formula again - they’ve very nearly salted the earth. if they want to go for four - and I’d love to know its contours - they’re gonna have to cast a pretty wide net.