God of War 2 - Second Play - 10 hours in

Most games and Greek myths share two undying constants: fate and violence. God of War 2 attempts to throw both themes into overdrive in an absurd excrescence that strips many existing narrative vines down to their bloody essence before it weaves them into a horrifying succulent.

The player is forced into many situations that require  deeply disturbing actions with only slight concessions to their immorality. At one point, I completed an escort mission so I could smash the escorted man’s skull against a stone pedestal until his blood unlocked the next part of my quest. Kratos doesn’t seem to blink when the only way of advancing toward his goal is to throw a human corpse into a grinding set of gears. While blood covers the walls and death hangs in the air, the player is expected to ponder the banalities of impending weapons upgrades.

In combat, if the player beats enough snot out of a beast, the Dual Shock’s circle will appear above that enemy’s head. If you press circle, initiating a grab, the camera pans in to a brutal set of finishing moves such as ripping off heads, cutting deep into flesh and gouging out eyes. The alternative is to continue tapping out combos while keeping the camera at a safe distance. But in some cases that just isn’t an option if you want to survive. Sometimes you have to get rid of that enemy right that moment.  In these cases, I want to turn away – especially when Kratos goes for the eyeballs — but the moves require a button sequence that is randomly generated and displayed on screen. I squint and tilt my head to the side in discomfort, and, of course, I pull the triggers.

In this sense, God of War 2 is a deeply self-aware game. As a game with a strict, linear narrative, it thinks up all the worst things a human could do to another human (or beast), and then makes you do it as a matter of following divine fate. Kratos’ mission statement — which he shouts to allies, enemies, animals, minerals and the elderly with little provocation — is hardly any comfort. Spoiler: This is deicide. I take no pride in revealing that, and I’m tepid about performing it.

You don’t have many options to avoid the ever-present violence. Either you play, or you turn off the console.  It’s comparable to watching a movie like Texas Chainsaw Massacre or reading a book like American Psycho. But, of course, the difference here is that you’re in the distinct position of flying off the handle instead of watching someone having a reality meltdown. Perhaps it was the developers’ intent to allow the player to feel first-hand what being an unsympathetic anti-hero is all about.

And it’s effective in conveying that sense of creeping insanity better than Eternal Darkness or Call of Cthulhu for one reason: Those games used visual and game play clues to attempt to let you know you were losing your mind, but God of War just leads you to believe you’re getting stronger. I can see no glory at the logical conclusion of this game. I see only the guilty hands and seething emptiness of a bloodbath bender.

It’s sinister in that it’s so successful as a combat game. I retried one battle sequence that flooded a small room with fire-breathing dogs and guys with blades at least twice my size for about an hour until I got it right. But I didn’t get frustrated. The game treats the player with respect. It asked me to mind my resources (magic, rage meter), develop my stable of combos and consider distance issues. Once I mastered those with any given set of foes, I was rewarded with advancing. It’s the journey to that perfect balance that draws the player in.

But to what end? Exploring the deeper psyche of Kratos? “This is your fate! Die with honor,” Kratos demands of a scholar caught in the middle of a war zone of the gods. At this point, I’m playing to see the same of you, Kratos.