Review: Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (XBX)

Persian royalty last visited the land of videogames four years ago, after an absence that spanned a generation. While by no means a bad game, Prince of Persia 3D found little purchase with its (PC) audience; perhaps missing the magic of its predecessors in an increasingly console-oriented world. Unrecognisable to most today (and a distant memory to the rest), the character credited by many as the originator of action-adventure videogames returns with a fantastic tale to reclaim his lost glory.

Prince of Persia: Sands of Time seizes the imagination immediately - with the exotic allure of ancient middle-eastern lands. Inherently permeated with a sense of mysticism, wondrous adventures spring to mind without any conscious effort; a perfect stage for this classically styled tragedy of treachery and redemption that begins when his father's traitorous Vizier (Gamestyle Word of the DayTM - a vizier is a councillor of state; a high executive officer in Turkey and other Muslim countries) fools the Prince into using a powerful magic dagger to unleash the cursed Sands of Time from their enchanted hourglass. These sands sweep through the castle, wreaking destruction and twisting every living being into fearsome sand creature parodies of their former selves. Spared this horrible fate by the dagger's power, the Prince sets out to return the sands to the hourglass and thwart the Vizier's evil plan.

For anyone concerned that the formula was growing stale, guiding the Prince on his ensuing trek affirms its ability to deliver an unforgettable experience in the hands of a master. Acrobatic feats, puzzling environments, frantic melee - pieces that had come to feel commonplace in many games - regain their lost lustre. Ironically, much of their rejuvenation comes not from some spectacular innovation but simply from the near-perfect pacing of the game; its comfortable flow (regularly punctuated by save locations never placed too far apart) alleviates the artificial tension generated from the dread of replaying the same area in countless tedious attempts to reach the next save point. Instead, the game itself supplies all the excitement. Each save point also offers a psychic vision of the challenges awaiting the next section - a devious way of achieving the "just one more level" knife-edged exhilaration to play a little more.

Returning the titular sands takes the Prince on a winding journey through the treacherous maze of crumbling architecture and hostile sand creatures that the palace and its grounds have become. Play alternates between two distinct styles - exploration and combat. While repetitive, the sequencing allows each portion to stand on its own without distraction. Remembered glimpses (from the save point visions) help to ignite a search of the environment; the Prince tentatively scouting the path ahead for ledges, balconies, ropes and anything else suitable on which to cross. Acrobatic displays that would be the envy of circus professionals follow in short order, thus picking up the pace. It reaches a crescendo in the tumbling, black-flipping, scimitar-slashing blur of clearing away hordes of sand creatures from the new area's save spot before restarting the process again. And always throughout, a natural flow developing from the consistent focus on the Prince's athleticism.

Brilliantly-conceived sections of the broken palace - all masterfully designed to take full advantage of the 3D world - pose a daunting challenge. The Prince must call upon a deep repertoire of acrobatics to move up, down, over and around the many obstacles in his path. Prince of Persia eschews the videogame penchant for requiring arcane button combinations to execute the most important moves, instead favouring simple and intuitive controls. This approach makes pulling off breathtaking feats more a matter of getting in tune with the character than learning a complex control string. Two adaptive action buttons produce all the moves; from running along walls (Matrix-style) to swinging rope-to-rope like Tarzan (as befits the situation). Vaulting about the palace soon becomes second-nature - leading to eager anticipation of the next section.

Similarly straightforward combat emphasises an instinctive feel over controller technique. A perfect fit for the battles, that customarily sees the Prince beset by three, four or more opponents at once. A single-attack button slashes with the scimitar, while the adaptive action button produces escape moves. Together they allow the unleashing of a flurry of strokes while tumbling around opponents. The combination of motion and aggression creates an unparalleled sense of fluidity; using the controller as a baton, conducting this bladed symphony - with a flick of the stick here and a stab there - orchestrating the action with all the instrumental flair of a practised recital. Yet it is as free-form as an open 'jazz' session.

The dagger that caused all of the trouble becomes not only an indispensable aid in the Prince's quest, it also solves one of gaming's all-time greatest vexations. As the controller of the sands, the dagger has the ability to draw them up and then expend them in various manipulations of time. The Prince finds the first (and most useful) of these powers the moment he picks it up - the ability to rewind time. This one ability removes the single-greatest impediment in adventure games: frustration. Miss a jump, mistime a leap; whatever the source of an untimely demise, a simple pull of the left trigger rewinds ten seconds before the event (thus allowing it to be avoided). And thus lifts the threat of a reset after death, restoring the element of fun to exploring and experimenting. The dagger also comes in handy in combat where it can freeze opponents like stone, slow the world to a crawl, or ultimately enable the Prince to take out several enemies in the blink of an eye.

Proceeding through the story, challenges smoothly increase alongside one's ability; keeping everything balanced. Increasingly difficult parts of the palace and more intense battles are countered by the dagger's parallel capacity to hold the Sands of Time (and expend yet more abilities). The visions provided at save locations highlight tricky sections, particularly ones that require new moves. Once learned, these new moves gradually acquire more use until they become second-nature. The balance attains the sweet spot of enough resistance to uphold the challenge while never grinding play to a halt.

A magnificent visual performance sets the crown atop this Prince. This is one of those games where the uninitiated stand transfixed; watching in awe, contemplating, assimilating the fact that a simple 'game' could look so beautiful. All the Prince's actions transition one to the other with natural grace, a real sense of weight and inertia to his movement enhancing the effect. Fastidious attention to detail - throughout every square foot of the castle and grounds - heightens the sense of immersion. And no, Ubisoft has not quite implemented the 'perfect' camera required of a third-person adventure - although their placebo version more than adequately keeps pace with the action. A first-person view and very wide-angle lens (aka 'landscape' view) is also provided, and soon compensates for any spatial issues; providing ample means to choreograph the next set of moves. Environmental sounds (via Dolby Digital) complete the immersion in many areas, although the rock-sitar music heard during combat comes off as decidedly console-ish and forgettable.

By the end of his tale it becomes 'crystal' clear that the Prince has indeed returned - and with the skill of a King. Regardless of title, Prince of Persia: Sands of Time has entered the high court of gaming's royalty. Pretenders and rivals to the throne take note: a new standard by which all adventures shall be measured has been set. And it doesn't include a big set of 'guns'.

Rating: 9 / 10

Words by Garnett Lee