Prince of Persia for Mac

I’ve had Prince of Persia on my mind for months. I played for a few weeks, feeling my way through gorgeous environs, marvelling at deep blue skies, far off places that can be visited. But as I wandered, stumbled, and was saved, I felt niggling irritation and rage .

I’m a known console hater. Using anything that resembles a console or controller and I just can’t cope. I break out into a sweat, I speak in tongues. And frustratingly Prince of Persia feels like it was built for a console. The game is peppered with inescapable quicktime and combat events, where button mashing and superhuman reflexes are needed. Controllers are built for combos and quick button presses. Keyboards just don’t work in the same way. I watched some clips on YouTube of in-game combos and I’m pretty sure I never used a single one. Not through lack of trying, many times I thumped my fist, head, shoulders, body, on the keyboard in the hope that some combination of buttons would engage. As a result, combo-less-combat lasts a long, long time, unless you luck out. It got so bad that at one stage I just quit the game when combat came along. I couldn’t face head-butting my keyboard anymore. To make matters worse, enemies can be bloody difficult to beat and they regenerate health. You’re getting your ass handed to you and your enemy is back on nearly full health.  It doesn’t make you happy, it makes you head-butt.

Combat isn’t the sole focus of Prince of Persia, it’s pieced through the game as a sort of glue between story and exploration. Oddly enough the story is the most forgetful aspect of the game. It goes something like this: Prince (not the artist formerly known as) follows Elika, a woman he accidentally meets in the desert (she’s actually a Princess). The Prince becomes involved in a battle to save the land where Elika lives, under threat from an ancient God Ahriman and his powerful Corrupted. Why Ahriman suddenly comes to power will be answered as you progress through the game. Prince is Han Solo; he’s a rebel, seemingly selfish and maybe a little bit hairy. Elika is the beauty and the brains; sensitive, apparently fragile, but actually strong. Prince of Persia has atmosphere and it’s created effortlessly through some wonderful design and art. But the story, the bit that could of completed the package, is rather tame, concerning light and dark, love that spirals into chaos, corrupting power. At times it’s like a Friends script, especially the dialogue - obvious tensions played out fairly well, complete with the guilty feeling for watching. That aside, the story is light enough never to detract from what essentially is a game that’s about exploration.

Interestingly Prince of Persia made it’s debut on the Mac oh-so-many years ago as a platformer. Sticking with tradition the current Prince of Persia is also a platformer, but this is hidden very well. I never felt I was taking a pre-defined path, instead it was natural, explorative. Many times I didn’t know where to go and fell down a cliff. This isn’t failure, rather a testament to the designers and artists involved that the game world is one, wonderfully complete experience. I’ve seen Prince of Persia described as a free running game. Funny, Prince of Persia, while very different, shares the successes and failures of Mirror’s Edge. Alec Meer on Mirror’s Edge:

Yet, once all the storyline guff and the associated uncomfortable compromises are pushed aside, there’s something sparkling and beautiful hiding.

Both games succeed in their sense of movement, the fluidity of ridiculous, yet satisfying moves. Both fail somewhat  in story. In Prince of Persia, precise control isn’t what you have. Movement is almost automatic making the game traditionally unchallenging and simple. Running along a ceiling by grabbing hoops or leaping from a wooden support to a distant point are easily achieved with a few button presses, the camera follows automatically. Seemingly complex movements effortlessly played out on screen are immensely pleasing, a stark contrast to a combat system that fails to engage or connect the player.

If you’re thinking Prince of Persia sounds too easy, wait for this: you can’t die. Elika’s special abilities allow her to save the Prince whether he’s accidentally tumbling down the side of gully or being beaten by an enemy. The Prince’s apparent immortality secures the fluidity of the game, it nudges the player to continue exploration. If you could die in Prince of Persia, nothing would be gained. Most platformers reload instantly, maybe Prince of Persia’s lack of death is a modern take on that mechanic? Whatever the reason, it works and it doesn’t detract from the game. It’s not a question of difficulty, being unable to die gives more to the player than being able to die. You don’t feel immortal, you feel saved.

Prince of Persia isn’t a challenging title. It doesn’t test your skills, it won’t tax your brain. What it will do is wow you with expansive, well designed environments. Much of my irritation disappeared through leaping, jumping and climbing the world. Story is secondary to a near blissful explorative experience, graced with unchallenging, yet pleasing acrobatics. If you can forget the bits that manage to snag you, you’ll find a stunningly beautiful game that aims high, misses, manages to land, albeit with a slight wobble. Just be content that the story isn’t worth exploring, but the art and environment is.

Here’s the proof: you can see that Prince of Persia photographs well. I had to sort through hundreds of screenshots, it was like thumbing through holiday snaps. No, this one! Ahh, look at that! Lovely! Remember that day?