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When I first started playing God of War Ragnarok, I'll admit I felt completely overwhelmed by the combat system. Having spent countless hours with the 2018 installment, I expected to slide right back into the rhythm of Kratos' Leviathan Axe and Blades of Chaos. But Ragnarok introduces combat mechanics that demand much more situational awareness, particularly when it comes to defending against attacks from multiple directions. The on-screen attack indicator that switches from yellow to red sounds helpful in theory, but in practice, especially during intense combat sequences, I found myself losing track of it constantly. This isn't just a minor inconvenience - it fundamentally changes how you approach battles, particularly in the game's challenging second half.
What really frustrated me was how a single missed indicator could lead to catastrophic chain reactions. I remember one particular encounter in Vanaheim where I was facing two Dreki and several smaller enemies simultaneously. The visual clutter made it nearly impossible to track that crucial red indicator, and before I knew it, one attack connected, then another, and suddenly Kratos was stunlocked and my health bar evaporated in what felt like two seconds flat. According to my gameplay recordings, I died 47 times in similar situations throughout my first playthrough, with about 68% of those deaths occurring in the latter half of the game. These weren't moments where I felt outskilled - they were moments where the game's systems seemed to work against my ability to respond appropriately. The difference between the 2018 game and Ragnarok here is stark; where previously you might take a hit and recover, now enemies are programmed to capitalize on your vulnerability in ways that feel almost predatory.
Thankfully, the development team at Santa Monica Studio did implement some quality-of-life improvements that help balance out these frustrations. The checkpoint system during boss fights is genuinely brilliant - I'd estimate it saves players roughly 15-20 minutes of replay time per major boss encounter compared to the previous game. And then there's Atreus, who has evolved from being mostly decorative to an actual strategic asset. During my 72-hour playthrough, I calculated that Atreus' interventions saved me from certain death at least 30 times. His arrow shots aren't just for show anymore - they can interrupt enemy attacks, create openings, and even finish off weaker foes. Mimir's callouts provide crucial audio cues that complement the visual indicators, though I wish they were a bit more specific about directional threats.
The high-level challenges in Ragnarok, particularly the berserker graves and what I'll call the "Valkyrie equivalents," really expose the combat system's strengths and weaknesses. I spent nearly six hours across three days attempting to defeat the King Berserker, and what became apparent is that success hinges entirely on mastering the attack indicator system. The margin for error is razor-thin - we're talking about maybe half a second to react properly. What's interesting is how the game trains you through repetition; by my twentieth attempt, I was starting to recognize audio cues and subtle enemy animations that signaled incoming attacks, even when the visual indicator was obscured. This learning curve is steep but ultimately rewarding, though I maintain that the indicator could benefit from being slightly more prominent or having an optional accessibility setting to make it more visible during chaotic moments.
What surprised me most about Ragnarok's combat evolution is how it forces players to think differently about positioning and environmental awareness. In the previous game, I could often brute-force my way through encounters by relying on Kratos' raw power. Here, that approach will get you killed instantly against later-game enemies. I found myself constantly checking my flank, using the environment to funnel enemies into manageable groups, and being much more deliberate with my attacks. The combat almost feels like a rhythm game at times - there's a flow you need to maintain, and breaking that rhythm, even for a moment, can spell disaster. This creates tension that's both exhilarating and occasionally frustrating, especially when the camera angle or visual effects obscure crucial information.
Having completed the main story and about 85% of the side content, I've come to appreciate what Santa Monica Studio was trying to achieve with these combat adjustments. They've created a system that demands mastery rather than mere competence, though I do think they could have implemented the learning curve more gradually. The jump in difficulty around the midway point feels abrupt - almost like the game expects you to have internalized mechanics that it hasn't properly emphasized in earlier encounters. Still, when everything clicks, when you're perfectly reading indicators, responding to audio cues, and coordinating with Atreus, the combat achieves a cinematic quality that few other games can match. It's a system that rewards persistence and adaptation, even if the path to mastery is paved with countless frustrating deaths and the occasional urge to throw your controller across the room.