RetroGrade Episode 1: A Question of Time - Part 2

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (Playstation 2, GameCube, XBox, PC - 2003)

When Prince of Persia first landed on the Apple II in 1989, it was a revolution. No one had ever seen anything like it. While a few geniuses like Eric Chahi (Another World) and Paul Cuisset (Flashback) were able to not only recapture that magic, but also expand upon it, Prince of Persia itself wasn’t terribly adept at continuing its own success. After years of tiresome ports and an abysmal venture into 3D on PC and Dreamcast in 1999, many thought the Prince of Persia franchise was a dead horse.

Then, in 2003, there came a resurrection. Jordan Mechner himself returned to helm what was quite possibly the most drastic return to form of any gaming franchise in the industry’s history. Neither sequel nor prequel, Sands of Time was a complete reimagining, a fresh new adventure that proudly embodied the spirit of the original without letting that pedigree stand in the way of taking liberties to maximize creativity (see also: Metroid Prime).

At the heart of Sands of Time is that same game Mechner programmed in the late 80s after mocapping his brother leaping and bounding in his pajamas. Jumping gaps, negotiating precarious catwalks, avoiding hazards and scaling ledges. Nothing was lost in the transition to three dimensions. In fact, the sprawling Arabian vistas that could only be dreamed of in Mechner’s time on the Apple II are now presented in vibrant, colorful rendering accented by a magically dreamlike atmosphere.

But the crux of this new game was a fairly original mechanic involving a dagger that allowed the Prince to manipulate time. In fighting his enemies, the Prince would collect sand within the dagger. At the press of a button, one could expend the sand to “rewind” time and rectify any recent mistakes, making death essentially impossible so long as you had enough sand to reverse time.
 

It was a fun mechanic, and even if it sometimes felt like a gimmick, it nonetheless forced future developers to rethink just how essential death was in video games. Apart from the mere cosmetic flair time manipulation offered, it was more than anything a critique on the reward/punishment system of gaming that had been in place since the beginning, a system built on the idea that if there were nothing at stake, the player wouldn’t be compelled to continue. Mechner proved with Sands of Time that if a game were well made, overcoming the possibility of death wasn’t as central to the gaming experience as the industry had believed for decades.

Of course, as amazing as it was, Sands of Time is by no means perfect. The biggest blight on the game is the dichotomy it creates between its beautifully fluid exploration and the clunky, jarring traffic jams that are its combat sequences. So separate from the game as whole that Sands of Time might as well be a 16-bit Final Fantasy-style RPG, fighting in Sands of Time is never anything more than a chore: a trial to make you earn your right to scale those brilliantly constructed parkour tracks laid out just beyond the tedium.

All of this is intercut with a story that doesn’t quite take center stage at any point, but that doesn’t make it any less interesting. There comes a point in Sands of Time where the last cutscene was so many ledge-hops and pole-jumps ago that the overall narrative really isn’t a pressing issue. All that matters is the immediate sensory experience. It works in two ways — drawing you further into the game, then, when the narrative does finally intrude again, the juxtaposition of it against the preceding narrative silence makes the game’s revelations all the more jarring and engaging. The true genius of the game is indeed how it uses time, but not in the obvious way that its title pertains to. It uses its time well and paces itself so that the narrative and the gaming have the same rhythm.

There’s been a lot of talk lately about games as art. I don’t think anyone is truly qualified to say for sure, but I will say this: one of the key elements of art theory is unity, that elusive sense of wholeness that all great works of art strive for. In games, that means every element, from the graphics, the gameplay, the music, the sound, etc., working together to enhance each other and create a unified experience that isn’t as easily broken into manageable parts that can be scrutinized individually under the magnifying glass of the conventional game reviewer. Sands of Time doesn’t quite achieve that unity wholly, but it makes one damn fine attempt, and that’s more than what most games aim for these days.