God of War: Embracing Death

Madison Butler
Critsumption
Published in
2 min readOct 21, 2020
Kratos looks ahead to the peaks of Jotunheim. God of War, Santa Monica Studio, Sony Interactive Entertainment, 2018. Captured on PS4.

God of War is a game about endings. It begins with a funeral pyre that sets up the game’s ultimate goal: To fulfill his wife’s final request, Kratos and his son Atreus must scatter her ashes from the highest peak in all the realms. Over the next 60 or so hours, they traverse the realms, searching for a way to reach Jotunheim, where the tallest mountains stretch above the clouds.

It takes a significant amount of cunning and effort to reach Jotunheim, which the giants sealed off, but this gives Kratos the time to learn how to be a father while Atreus learns to be a god. In Jotunheim, in the final moments of the game, Kratos and Atreus find a prophecy and understand why Faye wanted them to come — she, and by extension Atreus, are the last living giants of Jotunheim. They aren’t just scattering Faye’s ashes, they are taking her home.

Yet God of War is a game that actively resists its endings. For Kratos, death is an erroneous blip. I — we — do not fear it, we embrace it. When felled we rise and fight again because we are gods. I wish the rest of the game embraced it as much, as Faye and her death exist only as a commonalities for Kratos and Atreus to share, an aspirational parent and warrior but never a character in her own right. We were never meant to mourn Faye — we are meant to reach Jotunheim so that Atreus might learn of a prophecy involving him and the coming of Ragnarok.

The goal lies just beyond the prophecy. Kratos and Atreus scatter Faye’s ashes over the valley, where giants curl around the mountains in eternal slumber. And it does not feel final. The prophecy’s revelation undercuts the bittersweet goodbye. It’s as much for the players as it is for Atreus, the promise of adventure yet to come in a sequel game. Gone is the somber mood of the opening scene as, yet again, we are reminded that Faye exists as a plot device.

What should be a heartfelt goodbye becomes anticipatory: What awaits at the bottom of the mountain, at home in Midgard? A visit from the other gods. Perhaps a new war. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.

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