God of War (2018) Review: Kratos Reborn as a Weary Father

A God Made Quiet

🪓 This review is part of the The God of War Norse Saga – play Kratos and Atreus’ saga in order.

There is a moment, early in God of War, where Kratos kneels beside a tree he has just felled with his son and simply says nothing. No screaming. No rage. Just a tired man, a sharp axe, and a boy who does not quite know how to talk to his father.

If you played the old Greek games, that silence hits like a hammer.

This is the same Kratos who once tore gods apart with his bare hands and bathed the screen in chaos. And here he is, a widower in the frozen north, trying to raise a son he barely knows how to love. Santa Monica Studio could have made another revenge spectacle. Instead they made something far braver: a story about fatherhood, grief, and the impossible job of teaching your kid to be better than you were.

It is, quietly, one of the boldest reinventions in gaming. And for a dad playing it after the kids are finally asleep, it lands harder than almost anything else on the console.

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The Reinvention Nobody Asked For (And Everybody Needed)

When Sony revealed a grizzled, bearded Kratos with a child in tow, plenty of long-time fans braced for disaster. The old God of War was loud, brash, and unapologetically over the top. Cutting that down to a measured, character-driven drama sounded like a betrayal of everything the series stood for.

It was not. It was a rescue.

The 2018 reboot takes the one genuinely interesting thing about Kratos — his guilt, his capacity for monstrous violence, his utter failure as a family man — and builds an entire game around it. The Greek saga ended with Kratos having destroyed his entire pantheon and, in the process, himself. This game asks the only question that matters next: what does a man like that do when he is given a second chance at being a father?

The answer is messy, awkward, and deeply human. Kratos does not suddenly become warm. He is gruff, distant, and terrified of his own son seeing the monster underneath. Watching him slowly, painfully learn to be a parent is the spine of the whole experience.

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Atreus: The Best Argument for the Whole Reinvention

The masterstroke is Atreus, Kratos’s son. On paper, an escort companion in an action game is a recipe for frustration. In practice, Atreus is the emotional engine of the entire journey.

He is not a burden. He fights alongside you, fires arrows that stun and crowd-control enemies, reads the ancient languages Kratos cannot, and chatters constantly about the world around him. Mechanically, he makes you stronger. Narratively, he makes Kratos vulnerable.

The relationship evolves in real, observable ways. Early on, Kratos can barely bring himself to say the boy’s name, snapping “Boy!” instead. Atreus, in turn, swings between eager-to-please and resentful, desperate for approval from a father who hands out almost none. As the journey grinds on through loss and revelation, that dynamic shifts. The boy grows up. The father softens, just slightly. Neither of them says much about it, which is exactly why it works.

Any dad who has fumbled a hard conversation with their own kid will recognize the texture of this relationship. It is not idealized. It is two people who love each other and have no idea how to show it, figuring it out one cold mile at a time.

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One Unbroken Shot

Here is the technical flex that still rocks the PlayStation years later: there are no camera cuts. None.

From the title screen to the closing seconds, God of War is presented as one single, unbroken shot. The camera never cuts away. It glides over Kratos’s shoulder through combat, drifts into cutscenes, follows him into boat rides and boss fights and quiet conversations, and never once breaks the illusion. Even the loading is hidden inside the world, masked by tight corridors and seamless transitions.

This is not a gimmick you notice and forget. It is the reason the game feels so unrelentingly intimate. Because the camera never leaves Kratos, you are never given distance from him. You are pinned to his shoulder for the entire journey, sharing his cramped, claustrophobic point of view. When something terrible happens, there is no edit to spare you. When father and son finally share a real moment, you are right there in it.

It is a staggering achievement of craft, and the kind of technical showcase that makes you remember why a flagship Sony studio is worth its budget. The game simply rocks the PlayStation, and it does it without ever showing off.

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The Axe Just Rocks

Let me be plain about this, because it matters: the Leviathan Axe is one of the most satisfying weapons ever put in a video game.

You throw it. It flies across the battlefield, freezes whatever it hits, and sticks there. Then you press a button and it comes screaming back into Kratos’s hand with a weighty, magnetic thunk that you feel in your chest. That throw-and-recall loop is the entire combat philosophy of the game, and it is endlessly, almost absurdly satisfying.

You learn to throw the axe to freeze a distant enemy, fight bare-fisted up close with brutal Spartan rage, then recall the axe straight through a crowd on its way back. You pin enemies to walls. You bounce it off environmental hazards. You hurl it across a chasm to solve a puzzle, then call it home. Hours in, you are still finding new joy in the simple act of throwing and catching it.

The combat as a whole is heavier and more deliberate than the old combo-driven Greek games. Every swing carries weight. Positioning matters, because the over-the-shoulder camera means enemies can flank you off-screen, which is where Atreus and his arrows earn their keep. It is a smart, tactile, deeply considered combat system built around one perfect idea.

The axe just rocks. There is no other way to say it.

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A World Worth Slowing Down For

The Norse realms are smaller and more focused than a sprawling open world, and the game is better for it. The Lake of Nine acts as a central hub that physically transforms as the story progresses, opening up new paths and revealing hidden corners as the water level changes. It is a clever bit of design that makes the world feel reactive rather than static.

Side content is optional but rewarding. The trips into other realms, the tougher-than-the-main-game Valkyrie fights, and the constant low-key banter between Kratos, Atreus, and the severed head of Mimir give the world texture. That banter, especially, is where the writing shines. The long boat rides become little pockets of character development, the closest this stern game gets to relaxing.

Visually, even years on, it is gorgeous. The art direction leans into a cold, mythic grandeur, and the single-shot camera makes every vista feel earned because you walked into it without a cut. On a PS5, the faster loading and rock-solid frame rate let that direction breathe exactly as intended.

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Where the 9 Comes From (And Why It Is Not a 10)

I want to be honest, because that is the whole point of this blog. God of War is a 9, not a 10, and the gap is real even if it is small.

The father-son story is so good, so quietly devastating, that I wanted more of it. And the game, brilliant as it is, leans a little too hard on arena and wave combat for my taste. Too often the rhythm goes: walk, talk, then get sealed into a room while waves of enemies spawn in until a counter hits zero. The combat is excellent, so these fights are never bad. But there are enough of them that they start to feel like padding between the moments I actually came for.

Every time Kratos and Atreus had a real conversation on the boat, or shared a silence by a fire, I found myself wishing the game would trust those beats more and throw fewer Draugr at me. The quiet is where this game is genuinely special. The wave fights are merely very good. When a game’s combat is the weaker half of the experience, you know the writing has done something extraordinary.

That is a small complaint about a landmark game. But “I wanted more father-son and less arena” is exactly the kind of honest gripe that separates a brilliant 9 from a flawless 10.

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👨 The Dad Angle — Why This One Hits Different

God of War is not a family game. It is rated M for Mature, and it earns it. The violence is brutal and visceral, the gore is unflinching, and the themes of grief, loss, and inherited trauma are heavy. This is an after-bedtime game, played with the door closed and a decent pair of headphones.

But for dads specifically, it hits a nerve almost nothing else in gaming reaches. This is a game about a flawed father terrified of passing his worst self on to his son. It is about the gap between loving your kid and knowing how to show it. It is about teaching a child to be better than you were, while carrying the weight of everything you have done. If you have ever lain awake wondering whether you are getting this whole fatherhood thing right, Kratos’s silent struggle will land like a gut punch.

On time investment: the main story runs a very manageable 20 to 25 hours, which makes it far more achievable for a busy dad than a 60-hour open world. You can play it in focused evening chunks without losing the thread. It respects your time while still feeling epic.

On setup: this is a game that rewards a good display and a quality headset. The single-shot direction and the heavy, tactile combat deserve a screen and sound system that can do them justice. On a PS5, it is the definitive way to experience the Norse saga’s opening chapter — and as the first game in the saga, it is exactly where you should start.

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FAQ

Do I need to play the old God of War games first?

No. God of War (2018) is a clean reboot set in Norse mythology, years after the Greek saga. It works as a complete entry point. The old Greek games add context to Kratos’s guilt, but nothing here requires them.

How long is God of War (2018)?

The main story runs about 20 to 25 hours. Chasing every side mission, optional realm, and Valkyrie fight pushes a full playthrough toward 35 to 40 hours.

Does God of War run well on PS5?

Yes. There is no separate PS5 remaster, but the PS4 version runs through backward compatibility with faster loading and a stable, high frame rate. It looks and plays excellently on modern displays.

Is God of War (2018) suitable for kids to watch?

No. It is rated M for Mature for blood, gore, and intense violence. The combat is brutal and the themes of grief and loss are heavy. This is an after-bedtime game for dads, not a family co-op night.

Why is the Leviathan Axe so beloved?

You throw it, it sticks where you aim, and it snaps back to your hand with a press of a button and a satisfying thunk. That throw-and-recall loop never stops feeling good across the entire game. The axe just rocks.