Ever since the newest Prince of Persia was released, I’ve been going back and forth with myself about how I feel about the ending. Do I love it? Do I hate it? Am I ambivalent toward it? To be quite honest, it’s a bit of all three.

Writers at Negative Gamer as well as Destructoid have both hated the game, and I can understand why. The end of the game completely negates every other action taken. In order to bring Elika back to life, the Prince releases Ahriman (the evil god dude) and obtains a light seed in order to bring about her resurrection. From a solely goal-oriented perspective, this would be like a swift kick in the balls. Ten hours of gameplay or so are completely washed down the drain and you are left right back where you started.

Additionally, your actions are supported by none of the characters. Elika’s father, a minor villain, performs the same lifesaving actions and it leads to the kingdom becoming overrun with corruption. When Elika reawakens, she has one question: “Why?” She has accepted her sacrifice, and now it is all for nothing. Nobody succeeds and it serves as a device to set up the inevitable sequel. You even get an achievement for fucking yourself over.



Yet, I also realize that this ending makes a lot of sense. First of all, you must think about the game’s themes. Elika’s beliefs are mired in fate and destiny; that Ormazd (the good god) will provide her with the strength and will that she needs to fight Ahriman. The Prince, on the other hand, believes in none of this. He believes in choosing his own destiny. His family is dead, and he has lost his fortune. There is no reason for him to believe in fate, unless he wants to be the victim of a cruel joke.

If you play though the ending, you’ll notice that there is no cutscene or inner monologue indicating what the Prince is thinking or feeling as he makes his decision. It’s possible that trying to bring Elika back is his way of rebelling against fate and, more likely, that he is in love with her. The other possibility, since we never here exactly what the Prince or Ahriman say, is that fate is dictating all of these occurrences and Elika’s death and subsequent resurrection were predetermined. The Prince nods before performing this final act, either hinting that he has arrived at his own decision, or that he understands what fate is dictating for him to do.

Though Elika is certainly no Alyx Vance, this may be intentional. Maybe as players we are not supposed to be as attached to her as the Prince is. As we play through (rather than watch) the ending and force the Prince to upend everything he has worked toward, maybe we are supposed to hate what he is doing. It’s a brilliant fourth-wall-breaking decision, to have the player despise what they are doing, and still force them to take part. It’s the player’s fate in the game. There is no choice to refuse the task, unless you want the narrative to remain unfinished.



Rev Anthony asserted that we were supposed to care about Elika enough to want to bring her back to life ourselves, but what if it was the opposite? What if the ending is a statement about faith and predetermination, and our lack of choice in the matter?

Prince of Persia features absolutely no ability to die. To allow Elika to die would be breaking the rules of the game’s world. It seems fitting that in a world in which the Prince can escape death by doing almost nothing, the roles are reversed and preventing her death is the most thematically difficult action to perform. How quickly and drastically the tables have turned.



Or, of course, I could be overthinking everything, and the writers just got lazy when trying to figure out how to set up the inevitable sequel.