Is there a more God of War place than Svartalfheim? Certainly not from what I’ve seen so far. I’ve played just a few hours of God of War Ragnarök, much of the rest remaining chained up and locked down under embargoes (and I suspect you wouldn’t want me spoiling them anyway). But I can talk quite freely about this place, and I’d love nothing more.
Svartalfheim is the realm of the Dwarves, a place of sweaty, smelly bogs and twinkling shallow waters and, most importantly, mines. We are on the hunt for Tyr, a rather important giant. He is probably locked in a mine here, I understand. But what’s important about the mines isn’t their value to their story but the value to this game. What do you think of when you imagine a Dwarven mining realm? I think of one thing in particular: contraptions.
Contraptions are everything in God of War, and seemingly more-everything-than-ever in Ragnarök. In the years since the reboot I’d forgotten their prominence, but within barely a couple of hours I’ve been yanking pulleys and dropping counterweights, spinning discs on upright poles like the Roadrunner bolting past a sign. I’ve been whipping chains, boomeranging axes, smashing rocks and trees and icicles. I’ve knocked down little statues, cranked great wheels, paddled under low bridges and hopped across chasms. All of them loop together, forming a game you don’t explore so much as gradually ease apart, like a ball of knotted yarn. Go there and do this so you can do this and get that. This is the essence of God of War, and as well as forgetting how much of this stuff there was, I’d forgotten how much I love it.
