Matt Nava has a "thing" for movement. If you’ve played Journey or Abzû, you know exactly what that means. It’s that feeling of weightlessness, of gliding through an environment that feels more like a painting than a level. Now, his studio, Giant Squid, is taking that specific DNA and injecting it into something faster, sharper, and arguably more ambitious. It’s called Sword of the Sea.
It looks like a dream. Honestly, seeing the first trailer felt like a nostalgic gut-punch for anyone who spent their teenage years playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater but wished the concrete jungle was a literal ocean of sand. You play as the "Wraith," a resurrected figure tasked with bringing life back to a desolate, necropolis-like world. But you aren't walking. You're riding a "Hoversword."
The Hoversword is Basically a Skateboard for the Soul
The core mechanic here is the Hoversword. It functions like a surfboard, a snowboard, and a skateboard all at once. In most games, movement is a way to get from Point A to Point B. In Sword of the Sea, movement is the point. Giant Squid is leaning heavily into "flow state" gameplay.
Think about the way Journey handled sand sliding. It was brief but magical. This game takes that five-minute sequence and turns it into a ten-hour odyssey. You'll be catching air off the ribs of ancient, sun-bleached leviathans and grinding down the ruins of submerged civilizations. The physics look buttery smooth. It’s not about high scores or combo meters in the traditional sense; it’s about the sensation of momentum.
Nava’s background as an Art Director is everywhere. The way the sand ripples under the board isn't just a visual effect—it’s a physical interaction. You can feel the friction. Or, at least, you can see it so clearly that your brain fills in the gaps.
Why the Necropolis Matters
The world is called the Necropolis. It sounds bleak, right? Most "wasteland" games are brown, gray, and depressing. Sword of the Sea flips that. The "Sea" isn't water; it’s an undulating desert of shifting tiles and ruins.
As the Wraith, your job is to restore the "Tides." This is where the game gets its emotional weight. You aren't just exploring for the sake of it. You’re healing a world. As you move, the environment reacts. You might start in a graveyard of shipwrecks, but by the time you've mastered the flow of that area, life begins to return. It’s a mechanic Giant Squid mastered in Abzû, where bringing light to the deep ocean felt genuinely cathartic.
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There are enemies, though. Massive ones. The "Leviathans" aren't just background decoration. They are obstacles and sometimes predators. Navigating around them requires more than just holding "forward." You’ve got to use the terrain, the ramps, and the speed of your Hoversword to survive.
This Isn’t Just Journey 2 (But Kind of Is)
People keep comparing this to Journey. That’s fair. It’s the same creative lead. It has that same sweeping, orchestral score—this time by Austin Wintory again, who is basically the king of "make you cry with a cello" music. But Sword of the Sea is more "gamey" than its predecessors.
Journey was a linear pilgrimage. Abzû was a meditative dive. This is an action-adventure game. It has more complex inputs. There’s a greater emphasis on skill. If you mess up a line or lose your speed, you can’t just float to the next area. You have to engage with the mechanics. It’s a subtle shift, but a big one for a studio known for "walking simulators."
- The sense of scale is massive.
- The color palette shifts from scorched oranges to deep, ethereal purples.
- The "sword" part of the Hoversword isn't just for show—it’s your primary tool for interaction.
Actually, calling it a tool is an understatement. It’s an extension of the character. The way the Wraith crouches on the board reminds me of old-school surf films. There’s a soulfulness to the animation that you just don't see in AAA titles.
Technical Artistry: How They Make Sand Look Like Water
Giant Squid uses a proprietary tech stack to handle the terrain. In a typical game, the ground is a static mesh. Here, the ground is a fluid simulation. When you're "surfing" the dunes in Sword of the Sea, the game is constantly calculating how the sand should displace around your board.
It’s a technical nightmare that results in a visual masterpiece. The "waves" of sand have peaks and troughs. You can literally drop into the "pipe" of a sand wave. It’s wild. This isn't just a gimmick. It changes how you perceive the world. You start looking for lines. You start seeing the environment as a skate park built by gods.
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The Role of Austin Wintory’s Score
You can't talk about a Giant Squid game without talking about the music. Austin Wintory’s score for Journey was the first video game soundtrack nominated for a Grammy. No pressure, right?
For Sword of the Sea, the music is dynamic. It builds as you gain speed. If you’re pulling off tricks or navigating complex terrain, the layers of the orchestra swell. It creates a feedback loop. The music makes you want to go faster, and going faster makes the music more intense. It’s a symbiotic relationship that very few developers actually pull off. Most just loop a "combat track" and a "discovery track." Wintory writes music that breathes.
What Most People Get Wrong About the "Wraith"
There’s a misconception that the Wraith is a blank slate, like the traveler in Journey. While the story is told through environmental cues rather than dialogue, there is a much more specific lore here. The Wraith is a warrior. There is a history of a fallen civilization that you are actively piecing together.
It’s less "who am I?" and more "what did we do?"
The ruins aren't just random buildings. They are the remnants of a culture that clearly valued the Sea—before it turned to dust. You'll find murals, inscriptions, and architectural layouts that tell a story of hubris and loss. It’s environmental storytelling at its peak. You don't need a quest log when the world itself is screaming its history at you.
Why This Game is Coming at the Perfect Time
We’re in an era of "map marker" fatigue. You know the feeling. You open a game, and the map is covered in 400 icons. It feels like a chore list. Sword of the Sea is the antithesis of that. It’t about discovery through intuition.
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If you see a giant spire in the distance, you go there because it looks interesting, not because a golden trail told you to. The Hoversword makes the journey to that spire fun. That’s the secret sauce. If the act of moving is fun, the size of the world doesn't matter. You just want to keep going.
How to Prepare for the Tides
If you're looking to jump into Sword of the Sea when it drops on PS5 and PC, you should probably revisit The Pathless or Abzû. It’ll help you get into the headspace of how Giant Squid handles puzzles and pacing.
Don't expect a traditional combat system. Don't expect a 100-hour grind. This is a game meant to be felt. It’s a "weekend game"—something you start on a Friday night and emerge from on Sunday feeling like you’ve actually been somewhere else.
Next Steps for Players:
- Watch the State of Play trailer again, but pay attention to the particles behind the board. It shows you how the "flow" energy is gathered.
- Check your hardware. Because of the fluid simulations for the sand, this game is going to be demanding on CPUs. If you're on PC, make sure your cooling is up to snuff.
- Follow Matt Nava on social media. He often shares concept art that gives way more context to the world-building than the official marketing does.
- Set the mood. This isn't a "podcast game." When you finally play it, turn off the lights, put on some high-quality headphones, and let the score do its work.
The "Sea" is waiting. It’s just made of sand this time.