GOD OF WAR

Don’t like it. Never tried it. Every month we force one of our team to play their most feared game

Playing this year’s excellent God Of War finally piqued my interest in the original game in the series – also, confusingly, titled God Of War – after more than a decade of ignoring it. The adventures of a tattooed bald man getting increasingly violent and shouty? No thanks. I’ve spent enough Saturday nights in Wetherspoons to get my fill of that.

Playing it now, though, with the modern semi-sequel semi-reboot in the back of my head, is a fascinating experience. I can see the same cinematic ambitions, albeit a little less convincing thanks to the blocky polygon characters of the PS2 era, but the sense of scale is still undeniably impressive. The opening level has me fighting a three-headed Hydra – and, after killing it, climbing down its throat like Pinocchio inside that whale.

TEARING AN ENEMY IN HALF STILL ELICITS A SHOCKED GIGGLE FROM ME.

Which brings me to the other key element of God Of War’s spectacle: the sheer level of violence. Kratos has a range of bloody combos and finishers at his disposal. They’re a little tame by today’s standards of high-fidelity gore, but tearing an enemy in half still manages to elicit a shocked giggle from me. The first time, at least.

Repetition is where the game shows its age. There is a limited number of kill animations, which means they quickly stop feeling special and become tedious. The same goes for who I’m fighting. The use of Greek mythology means there’s a whole pantheon of gods and monsters to murder, but it’s hard to feel awed by Medusas and Minotaurs the 30th time I encounter them.

So while the adventures of Kratos and Atreus left me wanting to dig into God Of War’s history, it turns out the original is more historical curiosity than stone-cold classic – and occasionally feels outright ancient.

Kratos’ Rage meter fills up as he fights, until he can unleash all his frustration in impressive feats of violence. Unlike in real life, where a stubbed toe kicking a filing cabinet does the trick.

WHO? Alex Spencer is neither godly nor particularly warlike. But he is a Greek mythology nerd, which means he’s puzzling over why Poseidon, king of the sea, gives Kratos electric powers.