If you walked into a GameStop in 2003, you were probably looking for Jak II or maybe Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. Hidden among those heavy hitters was a weird, vibrant box art featuring a buff lion-man and a goofy-looking undead royal. That was Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy PS2, a game that, honestly, had no business being as good as it was. It arrived at the tail end of the "mascot platformer" craze, right when every developer and their mother was trying to out-Zelda The Legend of Zelda.
Eurocom, the developers, basically pulled a fast one on everyone. They took the grand, sweeping adventure of Ocarina of Time, mashed it together with the platforming DNA of Banjo-Kazooie, and set the whole thing in a stylized version of Ancient Egypt. It was ambitious. Maybe too ambitious for its own good. While critics liked it, the game sort of evaporated from the cultural conversation until THQ Nordic decided to revive it for the Nintendo Switch years later. But the PlayStation 2 original? That’s where the magic—and the frustration—really lives.
What Actually Happens in Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy
The game splits your time between two protagonists who couldn't be more different. You’ve got Sphinx, the stoic warrior-in-training who handles the combat and the sprawling "world map" exploration. Then you have Prince Tutankhamen, or just "The Mummy."
Tut is where the game gets weird.
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While Sphinx is out there slicing through enemies with his Blade of Osiris, the Mummy is stuck in a puzzle-platformer nightmare. The gimmick? He’s already dead. You literally have to set him on fire, electrocute him, or flatten him like a pancake to solve puzzles. It’s dark. It’s funny. It’s also surprisingly complex. One minute you’re navigating a high-stakes stealth mission in a palace, and the next you’re being squashed into a two-dimensional sheet of paper to slide through a wall crack.
This duality is what makes Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy PS2 stand out. Most games of that era picked a lane. You were either an action-adventure guy or a puzzle guy. Eurocom said, "Why not both?" and then threw in a bunch of Pokémon-style monster catching via magic blowpipes just for the hell of it.
The Zelda Comparisons (and Where They Fall Short)
Everyone calls this a Zelda clone. It’s an easy label. You find items that unlock new areas, you increase your health with "Ankh Pieces" (Heart Pieces, anyone?), and you talk to NPCs in bustling hubs like Abydos.
But here’s the thing: Sphinx is way more focused on precision platforming than Link ever was.
The jumps in the Uruk Islands or the Heliopolis desert require actual timing. You aren't just holding "Z" and jumping automatically. There’s a weight to Sphinx’s movements that feels more like a traditional 3D platformer. However, the combat is arguably the game's weakest link. It’s a bit floaty. You mash the attack button, you dodge occasionally, and you hope the camera doesn't decide to get stuck behind a palm tree.
The Mummy sections, on the other hand, have zero combat. None. It’s all brain work. This jarring shift in gameplay is usually what divides fans. Some people love the break from the action; others find the Mummy levels a slog because they lack the "epic" feel of Sphinx’s journey. Honestly, the Mummy levels are the most creative part of the game. They forced players to think about damage as a tool rather than a failure state.
The Technical Magic of Eurocom
We need to talk about the engine. For a 2003 title, Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy PS2 looks incredible. The lighting in the Luxor Palace or the shimmering heat haze in the deserts was top-tier for the hardware. Eurocom used their proprietary "EngineX," which they’d honed on licensed titles like James Bond 007: Nightfire.
It ran at a pretty consistent 60 frames per second on the PS2, which was a rarity for games with this much environmental detail. The draw distances were massive. When you stand on a high ledge in Heliopolis, you can see for miles. It gave the game a sense of scale that Wind Waker only achieved by surrounding you with an empty ocean. Here, the world felt dense.
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The Glitch That Ruined Everything
You can't talk about the original PS2 version without mentioning the "Point of No Return" glitch. It’s legendary. It’s devastating.
Deep into the game, there’s a moment in the Mummy’s third quest where you have to activate some switches. If you saved your game in a specific room and then turned off the console, the doors would lock permanently upon reloading. Your 20-hour save file? Gone. Dust. Historically, this was a disaster. Before the era of day-one patches, a game-breaking bug like this was a death sentence for a player's progress.
Many people who played it back then never actually saw the ending because of this. If you’re playing on original hardware today, you have to be paranoid. Don't save in the Luxor Palace. Just don't.
Why We Never Got a Sequel
The ending of the game is a massive cliffhanger. It basically screams, "See you in two years for the conclusion!"
We’re still waiting.
The game didn't sell well enough to justify a franchise at the time. It was a new IP launched in a crowded window. THQ was the publisher, and they were busy churning out Nickelodeon games and WWE titles, which were guaranteed money-makers. A high-concept Egyptian epic was a gamble that didn't pay off financially.
Then Eurocom went under in 2012. The rights bounced around until THQ Nordic (the masters of buying up dead IPs) grabbed it. While we got a "Remastered" version on PC and Switch, a true Sphinx 2 remains a pipe dream. It’s a shame because the lore—centered around the struggle between the gods Set and Ra—was actually quite deep. It wasn't just "save the princess." It was a political thriller involving soul-stealing and planetary alignment.
Finding the Magic in 2026
If you go back and play it now, some parts feel dated. The lack of a map in certain areas is a nightmare. The "Abydos" mini-games are notoriously difficult and, frankly, kind of annoying.
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But the atmosphere? It’s unmatched.
The music, composed by Steve Duckworth, is this haunting, percussive blend of traditional Middle Eastern instruments and early 2000s synth. It doesn't sound like a generic "Egyptian" soundtrack. It sounds alien and ancient. It perfectly captures the vibe of being a lone warrior in a world that’s literally falling apart.
Actionable Tips for New Players
If you’re picking up Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy PS2 for the first time, or dusting off an old disc, keep these things in mind to avoid a headache:
- The Save Game Rule: Never, under any circumstances, save your game in the Mummy’s sections of the Luxor Palace. Keep multiple save slots. Use the entire memory card if you have to.
- Capture Everything: You’ll get a blowpipe early on. Use it to capture "monsters" when they are at low health. These aren't just for show; you need specific monsters to trade for better gear and Ankh pieces later.
- Master the Long Jump: Sphinx has a "lunge" attack. If you use it at the peak of a jump, you can clear gaps the developers probably didn't intend for you to cross.
- Talk to Everyone: The NPCs in this game give actual clues, not just flavor text. If you're stuck, someone in Abydos or the Bedouin camp usually has the answer.
- Check the PC Version: If you find the PS2's fixed camera too frustrating, the PC port allows for full mouse control and higher resolutions, which makes the platforming much more manageable.
Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy PS2 remains a fascinating relic. It’s a testament to a time when developers were allowed to be weird and take risks. It’s a game that balances high-stakes action with slapstick comedy, and somehow, it all works. It’s not perfect, but it has a soul, which is more than you can say for a lot of the "AAA" titles filling up hard drives today. Keep an eye out for those Ankh pieces and watch out for the save glitch.