Some games aim to test your reflexes, others to tell you a story, and a select few simply to make you feel something. Sword of the Sea, the latest atmospheric adventure from Giant Squid, seems determined to do all three, inviting players into a dying world where the simple act of moving forward becomes an expression of freedom, discovery and renewal. Created by Matt Nava, whose previous work includes ABZÛ and The Pathless, the game draws on the studio’s established love of beautiful environments, understated storytelling and movement that feels almost like a dance. Yet there is something immediately appealing about the central idea: rather than swimming through an ocean or running across a landscape, you ride a mystical blade across enormous waves of sand in search of a sea that has been lost.
You take on the role of the Wraith, resurrected within the desolate Necropolis and tasked with uncovering the ancient ocean buried beneath the land. The world around you is a place of abandoned ruins, shifting dunes and forgotten history, with traces of a lost civilisation hinting at what existed before everything fell silent. There is no need for an elaborate explanation to make that premise intriguing. The promise of restoring life to a seemingly lifeless world is powerful enough in itself, particularly when the environment is designed to respond so dramatically to your progress. The real question is whether the experience can sustain that sense of wonder beyond its striking first impression, and whether the journey itself proves as memorable as the scenery.
The Hoversword Makes Movement the Main Attraction
The star of the show is undoubtedly the Hoversword, a fantastical means of transport that combines elements of skateboarding, snowboarding and surfing into something with an identity of its own. Rather than simply carrying you from one objective to another, it makes traversal the principal pleasure of the experience. Carving across enormous sand dunes, gathering momentum and launching yourself into the air gives the landscape a wonderful sense of possibility, while ramps, halfpipes and wall rides offer opportunities to experiment with your movement. It is an appealing foundation because it makes travelling through the world feel like a reward in its own right.
There is a lovely contrast between the Hoversword’s speed and the tranquillity of the world around it. One moment you can be gliding peacefully across a vast stretch of sand, taking in the scale of the surrounding ruins, and the next you can be charging down a slope before launching into an extravagant aerial trick. Flips, spins and grabs lend the movement a playful, expressive quality, allowing players to develop their own rhythm rather than treating every stretch of terrain as a straightforward obstacle. This is where Sword of the Sea seems to understand something important about good movement design: freedom is not simply about letting players move quickly, but about giving them enough control to enjoy the journey in their own way.
Momentum adds another layer to the appeal. Linking tricks together can build speed and improve your jumping potential, turning stylish manoeuvres into something with a practical purpose as well as visual flair. That connection between performance and progression encourages experimentation, rewarding players who learn to read the terrain and make the most of its natural contours. It also helps the game avoid feeling like a passive sightseeing tour, because there is a physical skill to the way you navigate its spaces. The result is a promising blend of arcade exhilaration and meditative exploration, with the potential for those two moods to complement rather than undermine one another.
Restoring an Ocean, One Wave at a Time
Movement might provide the immediate thrill, but environmental restoration gives the adventure its emotional centre. The landscape begins as a desolate expanse of sand and ancient architecture, a world that feels abandoned for so long that even the memory of life has faded. As you progress, ancient water systems and enormous sea creatures become part of the process of bringing the world back to life. Dry expanses give way to glittering water, while the return of marine life transforms the atmosphere from emptiness to something vibrant and full of possibility.
That transformation is arguably the game’s most compelling idea. Restoring an environment is a familiar concept in games, but Sword of the Sea places particular emphasis on making the change feel immediate and spectacular. The contrast between barren dunes and sparkling emerald waters gives each moment of renewal a visual impact that words can struggle to capture. Watching a lifeless landscape become an ocean teeming with life provides a satisfying sense of purpose, giving your journey meaning beyond simply reaching the next destination. There is a quiet emotional power in the idea that the world is not merely something to explore, but something you are actively helping to heal.
The ancient ruins and remnants of the civilisation that came before also lend the setting a sense of mystery. Rather than relying on constant dialogue to explain every detail, the game invites you to piece together the world’s history through its surroundings and the journey itself. This approach suits the atmosphere, leaving room for personal interpretation and allowing the environment to do much of the storytelling. Giant spectral creatures and colossal Leviathans add scale and a sense of danger, suggesting that the forces shaping this world are far older and more powerful than the Wraith. Even in a game built around serenity, the presence of darkness beneath the waves hints that restoration will not necessarily be a simple or entirely peaceful process.
A Visual Spectacle With a Soul
Visually, Sword of the Sea appears to be a natural evolution of Giant Squid’s established artistic identity. The constantly shifting dunes give the world a distinctive look, with the landscape itself resembling an ocean frozen in motion. Rather than presenting the desert as a flat, lifeless expanse, the flowing shapes of the sand create a sense of movement even when the player stands still. The result is an environment that feels sculpted around the act of surfing, with every ridge and dip suggesting another opportunity to build speed or catch air.
Colour is equally important. The desaturated tones of the Necropolis establish a sense of loss, making the return of bright, glistening water all the more striking. When the environment changes, it is not merely a cosmetic adjustment. It represents the restoration of something precious, and the contrast helps communicate that emotional shift without requiring a lengthy speech or an intrusive explanation. The returning sea life adds another layer of wonder, reinforcing the impression that the world is waking from a long and terrible sleep.
There is a danger with games of this kind that beautiful scenery can become little more than a collection of postcards, impressive to look at but lacking a meaningful connection to the experience. The Hoversword and restoration mechanics provide a strong answer to that concern because they tie the presentation to what you are actually doing. The scenery is not simply there to admire from a distance; it is a playground for movement and a visual record of your progress. That relationship between art direction and gameplay is central to the game’s appeal, giving its world a sense of purpose beyond its obvious beauty.
Austin Wintory’s Music Completes the Experience
The soundtrack is another major part of the game’s identity, with composer Austin Wintory reuniting with Matt Nava after their previous collaborations. Wintory’s music has long been associated with emotionally expressive game experiences, and the premise of Sword of the Sea offers plenty of room for that musical approach to shine. A journey built around solitude, movement and the restoration of life needs a score capable of supporting both exhilarating action and quieter moments of reflection. The music is positioned to provide that emotional thread, helping the experience feel cohesive rather than a series of disconnected environments.
Sound design also plays an important role. The rush of wind, the sound of the Hoversword cutting across sand and the splash of water can give movement a convincing physical presence, making speed feel more tangible. These details matter because the game’s central pleasure depends so heavily on how it feels to travel through the world. Music and environmental sound can turn a simple descent down a dune into something genuinely exhilarating, while quieter passages can make exploration feel intimate and contemplative. Combined with the striking visual design, the audio gives Sword of the Sea the ingredients for an experience that lingers in the memory after the screen goes dark.
A Short Journey With Familiar Footprints
There is, however, a potential drawback to this approach. Sword of the Sea is expected to be a relatively brief adventure, with the central journey estimated at around three to four hours. That is not automatically a problem. A carefully paced experience can achieve more in a few memorable hours than a sprawling game does across dozens, and there is something refreshing about an adventure that recognises when its story has reached its natural conclusion. Nevertheless, players who become deeply invested in the Hoversword’s movement may wish there were more environments to explore and more reasons to return once the main journey is complete.
The game’s relationship with Journey and ABZÛ may also divide opinion. Fans of those earlier experiences will probably recognise the emphasis on atmospheric exploration, environmental storytelling and emotional transformation. That familiarity can be comforting, particularly for players who appreciate games that communicate through images, music and movement rather than constant dialogue. Yet it also raises expectations. Giant Squid has built a reputation around these qualities, and repeating a successful formula is not quite the same as finding a genuinely new direction.
Fortunately, the Hoversword gives Sword of the Sea a distinctive element that helps it stand apart. Its emphasis on tricks, speed and expressive traversal introduces a more playful physicality than a purely contemplative exploration game might offer. The combination of surfing and environmental restoration also provides a clear identity, allowing the game to balance exhilaration with reflection. Whether that balance feels fresh enough will depend partly on how much familiarity a player is willing to embrace, but the concept has a personality of its own.
Verdict: A Beautiful Adventure Worth Getting Lost In
Sword of the Sea has the ingredients of a special experience: an imaginative world, an instantly appealing movement system, striking environmental transformations, and a creative team with a strong understanding of how games can communicate emotion without spelling everything out. Its greatest strength is how these elements support one another. The Hoversword makes exploration exhilarating, the restoration of the ocean gives that exploration purpose, and the visual and musical presentation brings the journey together as a cohesive whole.
Its brevity may leave some players wanting more, while those familiar with Journey and ABZÛ might recognise some of the same structural ideas beneath the new setting. Neither concern necessarily undermines the experience, but both are worth considering if you prefer lengthy adventures packed with elaborate systems, extensive character development, or complex narratives. This appears to be a game built around a more focused ambition: to make movement feel wonderful, to turn environmental change into an emotional event, and to create a world that invites you to stop, look around, and appreciate the moment.
There is something genuinely appealing about an adventure in which the act of travelling becomes as important as the destination. Sword of the Sea promises speed without sacrificing serenity, spectacle without abandoning intimacy, and a sense of purpose rooted in the simple pleasure of bringing life back to a broken world. It may not need dozens of hours to make its mark. Sometimes all a game needs is a beautiful landscape, a soundtrack that reaches the heart, and the freedom to ride a wave into the unknown.
