One of the most important factors in my enjoyment of a game tends to be how it feels to move around. Perhaps my biggest criticism against Dark Souls II is how floaty and weightless everything feels whereas you would expect a warrior in metal armor with a stupidly large sword to trudge and lumber around. Playing Destiny feels smooth and the added movement options allow you to elegantly leap and glide around the battlefield like an angel of death. Monster Hunter Wilds gives you what is essentially an auto-pilot capable raptor mount that can climb, leap, and sprint across the wide-open spaces and navigate cave systems with impeccable ease, but dismounting changes your movement style to be slow and heavy yet more precise, perfect for facing down giant monsters in highly technical combat with hard-hitting attacks. And who could forget the heaving, struggling, gratifying feeling of scaling cliffs in Breath of the Wild?
Keep this in mind when I tell you the pitch for Giant Squid’s Sword of the Sea: “What if Journey was a game about hover-boarding?”
It’s no surprise that this particular developer would produce a game which draws so heavily on the aesthetics of Journey and their previous game, Abzu, combining the two almost literally in many cases. You play as the Wraith, a being of mysterious origin and granted with a powerful hoverblade (you read that right) that allows them to glide over the vast desert or snowfields while also slicing apart obstacles. As the game progresses, you transform the various environments into a roiling ocean, schools of fish and pods of whales springing up from beneath the earth and taking… flight?
Confusing physics aside, the game is visually stunning in ways that are both familiar for the developers’ previous works, and altogether new and creative. The final two chapters of the game in particular were a feast for the eyes: glittering starscapes and lakes of blazing magma that are beautiful to the point of tears and treacherous to cross respectively.
Equally impressive is Austin Wintory’s score, sweeping and glorious like his work on Journey, giving what might otherwise seem a little sillier of a gameplay experience an air of majesty.
Similar to Journey, the threats you encounter are… alright, how much longer am I going to do this? I can’t just keep comparing it to Journey but… I mean, come on, it’s so similar! The way the story is presented through records from ages past, the dusty desert ruins decorated with similar deep red rugs which sway in the wind. Giant serpentine creatures of stone and fire are your adversary, and a silent protagonist is joined by a silent companion (although this time it’s a character and not an interesting form of ambient multiplayer). Furthermore, the game seems similarly fixated on aesthetic references to another past game, Abzu, what with all the fish that come blossoming into existence whenever you open a new path. Sword of the Sea even features the same secret shell collectibles from Abzu. Upon discovery of this fact, I said aloud, “Oh… again?”
So, with a game that’s seemingly unable to move on from the developer’s past projects, can it really stand on its own? How can it establish its own identity?
Because hoverboarding over deserts, tundras, and magma lakes looks and feels fucking awesome.
And that’s honestly enough to make this game stand out among its peers, because where Abzu and Journey were meditative and slow with occasional bursts of excitement, Sword of the Sea feels exhilarating from start to finish. Even when things take a more contemplative turn, you’re still zipping around these massive spaces, grinding on rails, riding the walls, and doing all manner of flips and jumps to collect Tetra (the game’s currency which you use to unlock new abilities) and secret shells. If you spot a little crevice in the distance, you think might have a secret, you simply zip over and check it out, and most of the time you’ll be rewarded for exploring.
There’s also a lot more spectacle here. The final chapters of this game leave me breathless, even on repeat playthroughs. And yes, I played through multiple times. In an age of loot boxes, card packs, and daily quest grinds, there is something remarkable about playing a game over and over simply because it feels good. And Sword of the Sea feels so good that I’ll probably play it a few more times, will likely even go for the platinum trophy.
You can finish the game in a few hours, so I encourage you to take an afternoon or evening where the weather sucks and the blankets are clean and cozy, and get transported to the rolling dunes and gorgeous seascapes of this little adventure that leaves a big impact. In a world that demands so much of your time, nothing about my time with Sword of the Sea felt wasted.
Giant Squid: What else ya got cookin’?
Update: Between the time of writing and the time of editing, I have – in fact – acquired the platinum trophy. Game good.
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