There is criticism, there is constructive feedback, and then there is watching the man who invented a franchise stare at its newest trailer like a confused dad who just walked into the wrong Zoom meeting. David Jaffe — the original creator of God of War and the man who gave the world Kratos, the angry Greek himbo with daddy issues and a blade fetish — didn’t politely suggest areas for improvement after Sony’s June 2026 State of Play. No, no. He watched the reveal of God of War: Laufey — a spin-off where you play as Kratos’s deceased wife, Faye, battling through a post-death purgatory called the “Everywhen” alongside a sentient, talking jelly cube named Frank (voiced by Jack Quaid, because of course) — and delivered the kind of honest verdict that PR teams have nightmares about.
“That looks like shit,” Jaffe said live on stream. “Uninspired. Dull. Reminds me of Forspoken. Really fucking goofy.”
Let that sink in. The man who wrote Kratos ripping Helios’s head off — a scene so gloriously over-the-top it belongs in a metal album cover — looked at a new God of War and said it reminds him of Forspoken. For those who missed that particular trainwreck, Forspoken was a 2023 fantasy RPG starring a sarcastic woman from New York transported to a magical land with a talking bracelet, where she shouted things like “I’m gonna kill you with the power of friendship, motherf***er!” before flopping harder than a fish on dry land. If Forspoken is your comparison point, you are not offering constructive criticism. You are holding a funeral.
And here’s where the irony gets delicious enough to give you a cavity: God of War: Laufey is about a character we never really knew. We never played as her. We barely heard her speak in two full games. Her entire narrative function in God of War (2018) and Ragnarök was to be a beautiful corpse, a motivational post-it note for Kratos’s guilt trips, and the off-screen mother of Atreus. She was, to put it bluntly, a plot device with a name. And now Sony Santa Monica wants us to spend a full AAA, 30-plus-hour adventure with her — in an afterlife dimension where Egyptian goddesses, Mongolian war spirits, and whatever the hell Frank the jelly cube is all share the same universe — while Kratos sits this one out on the bench.
Jaffe’s most savage observation wasn’t even the swearing. It was this: “If you took God of War off the title, and you didn’t know the story, and it was just a game about a goddess who dies… nobody would be talking about this.”
He’s not wrong. And that, dear reader, is the problem.
The Jelly Cube in the Room
Before we dive into the cultural firestorm, let’s take a moment to appreciate Frank. Frank is a gelatinous cube. He is magical. He talks. He also functions as a sword. Jack Quaid — the wonderful actor from The Boys and Star Trek: Lower Decks — voices him. None of these sentences are jokes. This is a real thing that a room full of professional adults approved after what one assumes was a very expensive pitch meeting.
Imagine God of War III, where Kratos climbs Mount Olympus to murder Zeus with his bare hands. Now replace the Blade of Olympus with a wobbly Jell-O square cracking wise about your mom. That is the tonal shift we are discussing. Jaffe called it a “Disney character.” That’s almost too generous. Disney at least has the decency to make their sidekicks marketable as plush toys. Frank looks like someone spilled a blue raspberry Slurpee and decided to give it voice lines.
“But It’s Bold!” – No, It’s Baffling
Defenders of Laufey will argue that Sony Santa Monica is being brave. That Faye is a “rich, mysterious character” worth exploring. That the Everywhen allows the series to finally tackle Egyptian, Chinese, and Mongolian mythologies all at once without committing to any of them.
To which the only reasonable response is: why?
The fans — the ones who made God of War (2018) a bestseller and Ragnarök a phenomenon — were not asking for this. They were asking for Kratos in Egypt, Kratos in Japan, Kratos punching Anubis in the face while making a dad joke about jackals. They were asking for Atreus to grow into his own godhood. They were asking for more of what worked. What they were not asking for — and I feel confident saying this based on the 2:1 dislike ratio on YouTube and the unprecedented public crucifixion by the franchise’s own creator — was a dead wife simulator with a talking Jell-O cube.
Jaffe has been critical of modern God of War since the 2018 reboot, which he felt changed Kratos so much that “he wasn’t Kratos anymore.” Fair enough. But even Jaffe admitted he’d play Laufey for his stream, because people would be curious. That’s not a vote of confidence. That is a rubbernecker slowing down to look at a car crash.
The Cultural War Elephant in the Room
Now we have to talk about the thing your source spent several paragraphs on, because pretending it doesn’t exist is how we got here. God of War: Laufey has become ammunition in the broader culture war — the same one that saw Assassin’s Creed Shadows, Dragon Age: The Veilguard, and Ghost of Yotei get dragged into the discourse about replacing beloved male protagonists with female ones.
And look: the argument is not “games shouldn’t have female protagonists.” Anyone making that claim has never played Stellar Blade, Tomb Raider, Resident Evil 3, Control, Metroid, or Bayonetta. All of those games feature women. All of them sold well. Some of them defined genres.
The argument — and this is where the irony comes back — is that fans don’t like being told to love a replacement. When Uncharted: The Lost Legacy replaced Nathan Drake with Chloe and Nadine, it worked because the game was a side story, not a mainline entry, and because fans already liked those characters. When The Last of Us Part II killed Joel and made Abby a protagonist, half the fanbase wanted to throw their controllers through the TV. Not because Abby has muscles. Because they loved Joel.
God of War: Laufey is not a side story. It is positioned as a full mainline entry. It removes Kratos entirely — not temporarily, not for a few levels, but completely. And it replaces him with a character whose primary screen time before this game was dying off-screen and being sad in a few flashbacks. You cannot build a AAA blockbuster on “you should care about her because she was married to the guy you actually like.” That is not storytelling. That is emotional blackmail, and it’s about as effective as using a pool noodle to put out a fire.
What Are We Even Doing Here?
Let me be clear: the idea of a Faye prequel is not inherently stupid. A game showing how she met Kratos, how she fought Thor, how she hid her giant heritage, how she fell in love with the Ghost of Sparta — that could have been genuinely interesting. You could have kept Kratos as a major character, shown their relationship develop, given context to the 2018 game’s emotional core, and made fans happy.
That is not what Laufey is. Laufey is Faye after she’s already dead, in a dimension that has nothing to do with the Norse setting, fighting mythologies that have no connection to her character, with a talking cube that belongs in a Pixar movie. It is, as Jaffe put it, what happens when “somebody wanted to write a fantasy story” and slapped the God of War logo on it to guarantee attention.
And the worst part? It will probably sell anyway. Because the name God of War is still enormous. Because people will be curious. Because YouTubers will make reaction videos, exactly like the source text you just read, and those videos will get millions of views. The game will not be a commercial disaster. It will just be… disappointing. A quiet failure of expectations. A God of War game that no one hates but no one loves. Which, for a franchise built on rage, blood, and mountains of mythological corpses, might be the biggest insult of all.
The Creator Has Spoken. Now What?
David Jaffe crossed a line, according to some. He didn’t just dislike Laufey. He called it a “monte de bosta” — a pile of shit. He compared it to Forspoken. He said it looked repetitive, dull, and creatively bankrupt. And whether you agree with his language or not, the fact remains: when the person who built your sandbox says the new castle looks like garbage, you don’t get to tell him he’s wrong about the sand.
The internet is divided. The trailer’s like/dislike ratio is ugly. The culture warriors are sharpening their swords on both sides. And somewhere in Santa Monica, a producer is staring at a whiteboard that says “Frank the Jelly Cube” and wondering where it all went wrong.
R.I.P. Kratos (For Now)
So where does that leave God of War: Laufey? In a no-man’s-land between audacious experimentation and self-parody. The game might still be fun to play — the combat looked fine, the graphics are predictably gorgeous, and Jack Quaid’s jelly cube will probably generate enough meme material to fuel Twitter for a month. But God of War was never just about “fine.” It was about fury. It was about a man so angry that he killed an entire pantheon and then felt bad about it for fifteen years. It was about identity, legacy, and the slow, painful process of becoming something other than a monster. You don’t just replace that with a talking dessert and a dead wife’s afterlife road trip. You either honor it, or you let it rest.
David Jaffe, for all his foul-mouthed theatrics, said the quiet part out loud: without the God of War name, nobody would care about this game. And that’s not a conspiracy. That’s not “toxic fandom.” That’s just the truth. You cannot build a billion-dollar franchise on the shoulders of a character you refuse to let speak. You cannot gaslight your audience into loving a replacement by slapping a familiar logo on an unfamiliar product. And you certainly cannot expect the man who carved Kratos out of rage and Greek tragedy to sit quietly while you hand his legacy to a gelatinous cube.
God of War: Laufey may sell. It may even find its own audience. But it will not be the God of War that fans remember. And when the dust settles and the discourse finally dies, one question will remain — echoing through the Everywhen, bouncing off Frank’s wobbly surface, and landing softly on Kratos’s empty throne: Was this really worth losing the Ghost of Sparta?
Probably not. But hey. At least the cube is funny.
