Sword of the Sea Puts Awe Back in Awesome

From a stream to a river to a waterfall.

In Giant Squid’s Sword of the Sea, I threw myself off a cliff. I trusted the developers had a purpose in placing a piece of architecture where they did, and fortunately, I was right. I looked down after I was airborne to see steps of arches making their way down. At their end? Nothing but a frog.

I would be lying if I said that was the moment that sold me on Sword of the Sea, because truthfully I was sold on it after playing ABZÛ in 2016. But it was nonetheless a most gratifying moment of gameplay, not only because it spoke to the bond between developer and player (that is, the language of level design), but because there was nothing but a frog.

And that was enough.

Like ABZÛ before it, Sword of the Sea understands that nature IS the reward. The awe-inspiring beauty of Giant Squid’s world, connected across all three of their games (ABZÛ, The Pathless, and now Sword of the Sea) pays off in spades. And not just in frogs: in orcas, spinner dolphins, leatherbacks, sperm whales, butterflyfish, and so much more. Even the kelp has a majesty to be felt as much as seen. The animation stands up to the colors: the way the dolphins spin; the sharks erupt forward; the mola mola glide all carry an authenticity that makes their place, often airborne in this fantastical world, all the more natural.

In the very beginning of Sword of the Sea, the player surfs across dunes of sand. Plaques give a hint into this world: stone has encased the water. Everything has gone dry. The world undulates nonetheless, hinting at what lies below.

And it’s not just water.

When the sand first cuts away to reveal the sea, it reveals its depths. There are coral reefs down below. The water becomes a portal into another world. And while the player can’t go to it, it will come to the player, schools of fish pouring up into the air.

Cue Austin Wintory’s sweeping score.

As much as I had committed myself to exploring this opening area in full, to tracking down every scrape of lore about Auma and the Wanderer and Tor Namun, the music pulled me. I had to follow it (and the fish) onwards, along a river of water on a sea of sand. It’s a moment as thrilling as any explosive action game, despite (or because of?) its serenity.

There are times I want to trust that music as much as I trusted that cliff, to close my eyes and throw myself after it, knowing that it will bring me to something small and beautiful. But that would be to miss more of the majesty of Sword of the Sea’s astounding art. And nothing doing, pal!

I would be remiss not to mention that Sword of the Sea doesn’t just look brilliant. The titular sword is exhilarating in its own way. The player rides it like a snowboard, flying up halfpipes and throwing out a deluge of tricks. It lends itself to a sort of flow, and is capable of achieving some truly gnarly air. There’s an effortlessness to the controls, the kind of simplicity that sings when it’s in your hands. Just playing was elating, but especially so when in one of the game’s skate-park-like arenas. The asking score to pass these challenges is such that you’ll do so with your first couple of tricks, yet the later ones are built so that you can combo together wallrides, grinds, jumps, and tricks without touching the ground for the entire 60-second duration. My brother and I treated them like we did old SSX courses, pushing ourselves to reach higher and higher scores.

This, of course, only after our initial four-hour play-throughs.

There are nefariously hidden collectibles, too, more tangible than witnessing frogs, to help players spend more time in Giant Squid’s wonderful world.

Somehow, discussing the game of it divorced from its grandeur feels like I’m doing Sword of the Sea a disservice. Imagine, if you can, that both of the pieces—the unrelenting, oceanic aesthetic and the buttery-smooth, X-Games trickery—are intrinsically married. Or play it, and figure out just what I mean for yourself.

In 2020, The Pathless (one of my favorite games of the year) surprised fans of ABZÛ with an interconnected mythology. Suffice it to say, Sword of the Sea is another Giant Squid game, with particular rewards for keen-eyed players. To those who haven’t played the prior games in the studio’s portfolio, please know that none of them need to be played in any particular order. In today’s world of constant multiverses and tie-ins and sequels, I know this will sound unconvincing, but I promise you these games stand completely on their own. Should you play them all? Absolutely. ABZÛ is a marvel. The Pathless has gaming’s most beautifully-animated bird. But Sword of the Sea, despite its nods, is a holistic experience.

There’s so much more I want to say, in part to sell you on this marvelous experience, and in part to tell the developers whose hard work has paid off (and it better pay off, in genuine cash, so that Giant Squid can put their imaginations to work again and again) that I am in awe of what they’ve accomplished. I am fully invested in their world. I am so grateful to have them in our industry. And, if my inclination is even remotely accurate, that I appreciate just how much the Sacred River was designed for the Whale Shark.

But I should stop, because I wouldn’t want to spoil any more of something that has to be played to be understood, seen to be believed, and heard to be felt.

Oh, but did I mention how the PS5 controller’s haptic feedback and built-in speakers are used to—

No more! I’ve said my piece. Now I beg you to do your part! Play Sword of the Sea!

And then make sure you’ve played ABZÛ and The Pathless.

Sword of the Sea is available now on PS5, Steam, and Epic Games Store, and is included in Playstation Plus Extra subscriptions.

Images from Sword of the Sea’s website.