God Of war: Ragnarök

I grew up playing the original God of War trilogy when I was far too young to be part of its world of over-the-top violence and questionable mechanics (yes, I’m looking at you, sexy, interactive cutscenes). But those games held a special place in my heart: beneath the brutal, comically excessive violence, the original trilogy was camp as hell (source: Kratos wears vast amounts of eyeliner and can’t kill someone without doing a pirouette first). And I loved it! I found that it offset the hyper masculinity of the games in a way that made them accessible to a 12 year old girl. I know I’m not the only one that enjoyed the theatrical, unapologetic absurdity that gave the series its unique flavor.

When God of War (2018) came along, it marked an impressive reinvention of the franchise. Its shift toward grounded, emotionally resonant storytelling was a revelation, but it came at the cost of that campy charm I’d grown up loving. Don’t get me wrong - 2018’s GoW is a phenomenal game and a necessary evolution for the series. It had the monumental task of establishing itself in a bold new direction, shedding much of the tone of its predecessors to prove it could stand on its own: which it did in spades.

But Ragnarök doesn’t have to carry that burden. The groundwork is already laid, the tone already set, and it thrives because of it. The opening is every bit as moving and cinematic as its predecessor, but now the characters feel like old friends. It’s a game confident enough to embrace all sides of the franchise’s identity, weaving in the emotional weight of 2018 while reviving some of the theatricality and self-awareness of the original trilogy.

Nowhere is this clearer than in the opening fight with Thor. “I couldn’t give a hot shit about your fatherly advice—I want to see the God of War!” In the context of the story, it’s a challenge to Kratos’ hard-won growth from the last game, a scornful reminder of his past as a destroyer. But it’s also a cheeky, meta jab at the fans who felt the 2018 game had strayed too far from the chaos and fury of the originals.

This balance between old and new is what makes Ragnarök so compelling. It honors the series’ roots while confidently continuing its evolution, blending emotional storytelling with the grotesque spectacle that defined the original trilogy. As far as sequels go, this may be one of the best of all time.