What Parents Can Learn from Playing ‘God of War’

Mike Diver
Games PlayStation
Games PlayStation

By most accounts, FANDOM not excepted, the new God of War for PS4 is quite the excellent video game. Personally, I’m not quite on board with the maximum-score brigade ; but I’ve certainly been having fun enough with the game to poke around in its side-quest corners and form an attachment to the not-quite-a-new-man (well, god) at the heart of the adventure, Kratos.

A lot of that comes down to helping the God Of War tackle his toughest challenge yet – parenting.

Our protagonist’s temper might’ve cooled ever so slightly in the frigid air of his new Midgard surroundings, but when his blood’s up, only someone who actively wants to be turned into chunks would stand in his way.

Mercifully, his companion on this new journey is incredibly capable of sidestepping his raging fury. It helps that he’s known the bald beardo his whole life – Kratos’ sidekick being, as you almost certainly already know, his son, Atreus. (And please, don’t run that past Real Greek Mythology, as it’ll lead you down a Wiki rabbit hole you’ll possibly never return from.)

Which makes Kratos gaming’s latest father figure, following the likes of Joel from The Last of Us (bit clingy), Michael from Grand Theft Auto V (bit criminal), and Octodad from Octodad (bit calamari).

But just what can players learn about the joys and pains, highs and lows of modern parenting from following burly dad and dinky junior on their quest?

Don’t bother calling kids by their real name

Let’s start at the beginning. Within minutes of turning on God of War, Kratos will say, sternly, to his son: “Get in the boat, boy.” And “boy”, as he’s so regularly referred to rather than his actual name, probably because [redacted for massive spoilers], duly obliges, no questions asked, no arguments made. Which is absolutely not how this would play out in real life.

Children are incredibly obedient (if you’re a mass-murdering deity)

Now, I’m not sure how old Atreus is here, but as someone who’s got a son of not so many years younger, let me tell you: an incentive is necessary. Perhaps Atreus fears his father’s temper? Perhaps he knows not to get on the wrong side of him, given the situation they’re in during the game’s opening scenes – which is one of reflection and mourning.

But kids’ minds don’t work like adult ones, and more often than not, to get one’s pride and joy to do as they’re told necessitates a “reward” for the compliance.

So, what Kratos would really be saying, if trying to get his boy strapped into the back of the car after the weekly big shop, is something like: “If you get in the car, boy, we’ll stop off at the drive-through and get a mega bucket.” Which, naturally, benefits father as well as son – and you know Kratos needs his protein, even if it’s served deep-fried.

No matter where you run off too, your kids will always magically appear beside you

One criticism that can be leveled at God of War is that its camera is a finicky customer. It’s not always easy to be fully aware of what’s around Kratos – be that enemies swarming his position, or where the hell Atreus has got to. Now this, parents to be, is something to take on board: no matter where you go, your kids will make themselves scarce with amazing ease.

The library, the beach, the park, the motorway services lavatories they insisted you stop at even though then they couldn’t go and now they’ve tricked you into buying two bags of sweets for the cost of a three-course meal (before vanishing into thin air, that is).

In the game, Kratos need only effortlessly leap across a chasm, or grab a split in the side of a sheer cliff face for Atreus to immediately snap to his side. IRL, though? Ha. No.

There’s no magical parenting prompt or quick-time event to summon your brood – outside of frantically waving those sweets around while suppressing a gently panicked scream in the middle of the fumes-pungent forecourt.

Even when his boy genuinely gets lost, while pursuing a magic pig through thickening mist (not even making that up, that pig is totally magic), Kratos barely adds a wrinkle of anxiety to his battle-scarred veneer. I mean, he does call for Atreus, but it’s pretty half-hearted – almost like he’d rather continue his quest alone. And at times, let me tell you: strong relate.

Your offspring will break things. A lot.

Kratos tests Atreus' speed and temper

Later, he barks to his boy, as they wander into an elven warzone: “Stay here, touch nothing.” Words to that effect. But whatever the exact language used, c’mon Kratos: you know, surely, that’s not going to work. Kids are precision engineered to Mess With Stuff. Often, it’s your stuff, the stuff they shouldn’t be near in the first place, let alone getting their sticky mitts all over, leaving jam smears and felt-tip smudges on your important documents and limited-edition collectibles.

And sure enough, Atreus can’t help himself. While exploring a mine once worked by giants, he goes and breaks an all-important lift mechanism, setting the pair’s progress back a considerable series of triggered combat encounters and physics puzzles. The little turd.

No wonder that Kratos’ steely, unmoving, emotion-stripped demeanour begins to wobble. And then it breaks, and he chastises his son – only for the brat to answer back, a gobful of snark uttered as an intentionally discernible mutter.

Kids will say terrible things to you, but it’s OK because you’re bigger than them.

Kratos doing a bit of parenting.

“You have something to say?” hisses Kratos, patience thinned. Normal service resumes, and Atreus goes back to calling his father “sir”, like he’s some sort of Dickensian street urchin fishing for pennies from passing well-to-dos.

And if you think that’s ever going to happen in 21stcentury parenting, you’ve another thing coming.

“Sir”? You’ll be lucky to get a “daddy” past the age of four. The words that can come out of the mouths of babes, honestly. Have you walked past a junior school playground lately? You can’t see where you’re stepping for all the blue in the air.

God Of War probably isn’t the best parenting simulator…

But, of course, you’re not playing God of War to learn about how to raise your own youngsters, nor should you try. (Parenting 1o1 please, do not give your kids arrows of their own – someone’s eye will get taken out, and nobody needs another 1066.)

You’re playing because you get off on watching muscly men hack great lumps out of dragons and ogres and trolls and Famous Gods who, really, should have played the previous games in this series before starting a fight with the big guy with the big axe. The great big Norse buffoons.

“Don’t be sorry, be better,” Kratos advises his son after Atreus fails to make an arrow find its mark.

Now that’s a sentiment you’d best get used to expressing, in your own way, when bringing up a bairn or some – in a genuinely encouraging sense, of course. But really, who’d ever be good enough for the fabled Ghost of Sparta? Who could ever stand up to him? Surely, nobody ca… Oh, there’s PaRappa and Sackboy, actually. But that’s a whole other article.

Mike Diver
Author of Indie Games: The Complete Introduction to Indie Gaming (2016) and How to Be a Professional Gamer: An Esports Guide to League of Legends (2016). Games writer and critic for FANDOM, Official PlayStation Magazine, Eurogamer, Nintendo Life and more. The Gaming Show (BBC) writer/researcher.