Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time
Sunlight shines through an ornate window, illuminating minute dust particles as they dance lazily in the morning air. A heavy haze hangs over the room, partially obscuring a lumbering sand beast as he goes about his patrol. He is alerted by a mometary flutter of footsteps. An athletic young warrior gambols over a nearby railing and skids down the wall, plunging his dagger into the beast's heart before he even hits the floor.
They may not have had the cinematograph back in medieval Persia, but they certainly knew the aesthetics involved in making a successful movie. Every scene-- no, every frame drips with a beauty which no human eye is worthy of seeing. This is more than a vision of spleandour; it's 50 glorious renditions of lush scenery and stunning action per second. In short, it's very, very pretty. The entire world is seen as through smoked glass, all hazy edges and subtle glows. To dismiss this effect as common "fog" would be a crime. This is neo-fog, fog v2.0, and it serves to give PoP:SoT a distinctive style all its own.
The graphics are only the first blow in a jaw-dropping combo attack of style, however. The titular prince snakes around the environment with a fluidity rarely seen outside of actual fluids, vaulting over barriers and diving round corners with sinew-snapping regularity. He taught Lara Croft everything she knows about dangling from ledges and sidling along sheer cliff faces, while simultaenously mastering the art of the parallel bars and gaining a degree in climbing poles. Even vertical surfaces are no match for his athletic endeavours, with the ability to run straight up them, leap from one to another, or even sprint Crouching Tiger-style across walls. These actions form the majority of the game's puzzles, requiring thought and dexterity to find the right way to cross the room without falling to a painful death. In homage to the original time-limited Prince of Persia games, it is quite possible to string together a perfectly-choreographed sequence of moves that's sure to have any onlookers gawk in disbelief.
Then there's Farah, the enslaved daughter of the Maharajah and AI-controlled companion. She follows closely during the trek through most of the palace, squeezing through convenient shortcuts when unable to keep up with the more dextrous sequences. She presses buttons and pulls levers that the prince is unable to reach, lending a deceptively cooperative air to proceedings. Their casual banter as they slowly and predictably fall in love is a particularly nice touch, with curiously British accents and mannerisms providing relief from the typically repetetive sounds of play. Hearing her call out in thanks for opening a door, or apologise for accidentally arrowing the prince during a fight, adds a genuine spice of achievement and reality to what could have been a lonely fantastical experience.
Between the puzzles are the equally beautiful combat sequences, always against multiple enemies at a time. The game's structure is rigidly divided, with a few waves of monsters between each section of acrobatics. And they really are waves - when one dies, another appears out of the ether to take its place. This continues for what can seem like indefinitely, as you never know how many more you need to defeat before an area is clean. The prince's short-range sword provides another excuse to display his athletic prowess, propelling himself off walls and vaulting over one foe to reach another. Moves like this are staple to any encounter, and would be nigh-on impossible to pull off if it weren't for the excellent control system. Just push in the general direction of your chosen opponent and hit attack to have his highness perform whatever move he needs to do. More complex stunts are made possible with one or two commands prior to the attack, leading to astounding feats of martial arts without having to remember insane combos.
On top of that, simple swordfighting isn't enough to finish off a beastie. Their corpse will get back up unless you stab their lifeless bodies with the Dagger of Time, absorbing their sand and erasing them from existence. The dagger can then use this sand to manipulate time itself, freezing enemies in their tracks or invoking Matrix-style slow motion for those times when your eyes need to be quicker than your hands. Most usefully of all, though, is its spooky ability to hit rewind on time itself, backtracking frame by frame for up to ten seconds. Falling foul of a sucker punch or an unexpected trap is not a problem as long as there's sand in the dagger. Just flick the switch, and roll back to a safer time. This innovative tool proves invaluable in the platform-leaping puzzle sections, encouraging exploration and experimentation instead of punishing every little mistake with a Game Over.
With decadent Middle Eastern scenery, awesome acrobatic combat, and action so smooth it requires a lubricated controller, PoP:SoT may well be one of the most significant events in the field of action adventure since Ms. Croft decided to start checking out the local tombs. It's not perfect - fighting wave after wave of identical monsters quickly has you wishing for it to end - and each room having only one solution reduces replay value to all but the speedrunners. However, such are mere niggles in what is one of the finest experiences ever immortalised to CD. This is art, every bit as stunning and as capable of drawing a crowd as anything you would find in a gallery. After all, who wouldn't want to be Prince of Persia for a while?
Long live the Persian empire.
