Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands

In Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands, set in a fantastical Middle Eastern kingdom, the Prince visits his brother Malik only to find the castle besieged by Osman’s army. Desperation leads Malik to unleash a sealed ancient Sand Army, rumored to be King Solomon’s knights, which ravages everything in its path; the Prince must ally with Razia, Queen of the Djinn, to harness elemental powers, rewind time, and navigate treacherous platforming challenges to seal away the destructive force and save the realm.

Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands: Review

Introduction

Imagine scaling the crumbling spires of an ancient Persian palace, where every leap defies gravity and every misstep sends you tumbling into an abyss—only to rewind time and try again, heart pounding with the thrill of near-perfection. This is the intoxicating rush that defined the Prince of Persia series at its peak, a blend of balletic platforming, time-bending magic, and swashbuckling adventure that captivated gamers in the early 2000s. Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands, released in 2010 across multiple platforms, emerges as a nostalgic homecoming to that golden era, slotted chronologically between the groundbreaking The Sands of Time (2003) and the darker Warrior Within (2004). Developed amid the shadow of a Hollywood reboot and a faltering franchise identity, it seeks to recapture the magic of acrobatic heroism and elemental sorcery. Yet, while it dazzles in moments of pure platforming poetry, it stumbles under the weight of repetitive combat and a forgettable narrative, positioning itself as a solid but unremarkable bridge in the series’ storied legacy. My thesis: The Forgotten Sands is a heartfelt, if imperfect, revival that honors its roots while exposing the series’ growing fatigue, making it essential for die-hards but skippable for those craving bold innovation.

Development History & Context

The development of Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands was a multifaceted effort born from Ubisoft’s internal divisions, reflecting the publisher’s ambitious multi-platform strategy during the seventh console generation. The core version for PlayStation 3, Xbox 360, and Windows was spearheaded by Ubisoft Montreal, the studio behind hits like Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood, with assistance from Ubisoft Singapore for additional polish. Directed by Jean-Christophe Guyot and produced by Graeme Jennings, the team of over 800 credits (including 789 developers) drew heavily from the Sands of Time trilogy’s blueprint, aiming to pivot back from the 2008 reboot’s experimental cel-shaded aesthetic and overly forgiving mechanics. Originally conceived as a tie-in to Disney’s Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time film starring Jake Gyllenhaal—slated for 2008 but delayed to 2010—the project faced a creative crossroads when the movie’s postponement created a content vacuum. Ubisoft reworked it into a canonical interquel, filling the seven-year narrative gap between Sands of Time and Warrior Within to explore the Prince’s maturation into a more jaded warrior.

Technological constraints played a pivotal role, particularly on next-gen hardware. The Anvil engine, previously used in Assassin’s Creed, powered the main versions, enabling fluid animations and dynamic environments but straining under the demands of large-scale sandstorms and destructible architecture. Lead programmer Alain Dessureaux and tools manager Alain Bedel optimized for seamless platforming at 30 FPS, though frame drops and occasional glitches marred the experience—echoing the era’s growing pains as developers grappled with HD transitions. For the Wii, Ubisoft Quebec crafted a bespoke version under director Mario Lord, incorporating Wii Remote motion controls for a more tactile feel, while the PSP and DS ports by Ubisoft Casablanca and Ubisoft SARL introduced side-scrolling twists to suit portable hardware. The mobile and browser versions, simpler 2D affairs, were quick adaptations by smaller teams, emphasizing core platforming without the full scope.

The 2010 gaming landscape was saturated with action-adventures: God of War III and Assassin’s Creed II set benchmarks for spectacle and depth, while platformers like Super Mario Galaxy 2 innovated traversal. Ubisoft positioned Forgotten Sands as a “return to form,” targeting lapsed fans alienated by the 2008 reboot’s linearity and lack of challenge. With a budget reflecting Ubisoft’s blockbuster ambitions (though exact figures remain undisclosed), the game launched amid the film’s May 2010 release, leveraging cross-promotion. However, Ubisoft’s infamous always-online DRM for the PC version sparked backlash, requiring server authentication that alienated single-player purists and foreshadowed broader industry debates on digital rights. Trivia like the PC DRM’s eventual removal underscores the era’s turbulent shift toward connected gaming, making Forgotten Sands a product of both creative nostalgia and commercial pragmatism.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its heart, Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands weaves a tale of hubris, loss, and reluctant heroism, framed as a mythic fable in the vein of One Thousand and One Nights. The console and PC versions follow the unnamed Prince (voiced by Yuri Lowenthal in a charismatic return) as he journeys to his brother Malik’s (John Cygan) besieged kingdom, only for Malik to unleash Solomon’s Sand Army—an ancient horde of undead warriors sealed by the biblical king himself—to repel invaders. This fateful decision corrupts the land, turning allies to stone and birthing Ratash (Fred Tatasciore), a vengeful Ifrit djinni who leads the army in a bid to eradicate humanity. Allied with Razia (Salli Saffioti), the noble Marid djinn queen who forged the original alliance between humans and spirits, the Prince must reunite the fractured seal, absorb elemental essences, and confront the moral cost of power.

The plot unfolds in four acts across a sprawling palace complex, blending linear progression with backtracking for upgrades. Key sequences, like the Prince’s pursuit of Malik through sand-choked halls or the climactic duel atop a raging storm, evoke epic tragedy: Malik’s possession by Ratash symbolizes unchecked ambition, mirroring the Prince’s own youthful arrogance from Sands of Time. Dialogue shines in Razia’s philosophical exchanges, pondering the fragility of alliances (“Power is a double-edged sword, Prince—wield it wisely”), but falters in expository dumps and Malik’s one-note descent into villainy. Themes of brotherhood and sacrifice dominate; the Prince’s arc transforms him from a cocky adventurer to a burdened leader, foreshadowing Warrior Within‘s cynicism. Post-credits, he discards Razia’s djinn sword, a poignant emblem of lost innocence, narrated by an unseen voice to underscore the story’s oral-tradition roots.

Platform variants diverge intriguingly. The Wii’s tale, guided by the enigmatic Zahra (voiced by an uncredited performer), pits the Prince against the Haoma—a sentient, corrupting plant overtaking the lost kingdom of Izdahar—exploring themes of environmental hubris and immortality’s curse. Zahra’s bond with the Prince, sealed by a fateful kiss on a statue, humanizes her ethereal presence, culminating in her sacrificial merger to save him. The PSP version reimagines the prophecy motif, with the Prince allying Helem, a time spirit, to thwart the fire demon Ahihud; it’s a leaner, prophecy-driven yarn emphasizing fate versus free will. The DS port, a stylus-driven odyssey, strips the Prince of memories after a cult’s ritual, forcing reliance on a weakened Razia—delving into identity and redemption as they reclaim stolen essences. Across all, underlying motifs of corruption (sand as metaphor for erosion of self) and alliance (human-djinn partnerships) tie into the series’ lore, though none match Sands of Time‘s emotional depth or twists. Characters like Ratash’s bombastic roars or Zahra’s flirtatious wit add flavor, but the ensemble feels underdeveloped, prioritizing spectacle over introspection.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands thrives on its core loop of exploration, platforming, and combat, refined yet iterative from the Sands of Time trilogy. In the main PS3/360/PC versions, players control the Prince in third-person, navigating vast, interconnected palace levels via direct analog-stick input. The foundational mechanic—acrobatic traversal—remains a joy: wall-running to build momentum, pole-swinging for gaps, and precise ledge-grabs demand spatial awareness and timing. Levels gate progress with environmental puzzles, like aligning light beams or manipulating gears, but innovate with elemental powers unlocked mid-game. Razia’s gifts include Water (freezing fountains into climbable pillars), Earth (reconstructing ruined architecture), Wind (summoning gusts for aerial boosts), and Fire (igniting foes in combos). These aren’t mere gimmicks; later sequences demand chaining them—e.g., freezing water mid-jump then restoring a collapsed bridge—creating rhythmic, almost musical challenges that peak in boss arenas.

Time manipulation returns via the Dagger of Time, but with a twist: rewinds are finite (replenished by blue orbs from enemies or vases), adding tension without frustration. Checkpoints at fountains auto-save, balancing accessibility. Combat, however, is the game’s Achilles’ heel. Early fights devolve into button-mashing against waves of up to 50 sand soldiers, with basic sword strikes, kicks, and grabs lacking depth—evasion feels clunky, and crowds overwhelm without strategy. Progression shines here: defeating foes yields light essence for a skill tree, unlocking upgrades like the Stone Armor (temporary invincibility) or Avalanche (AOE knockdown). By the end, elemental infusions elevate brawls—flinging fireballs or wind-slicing groups—into satisfying spectacles, though repetitive animations and poor enemy AI (foes often clump predictably) undermine longevity. UI is clean but intrusive: the HUD displays health, power bars, and rewind counter unobtrusively, but pause menus feel dated, and the UPlay overlay (for rewards like Ezio’s skin) adds bloat.

The Wii version adapts ingeniously for motion controls: pointer-aimed Spirit Hooks create grapple points, Whirlwinds launch the Prince skyward, and Magic Spheres cushion falls—fostering “create-your-own-path” freedom, though QTE-heavy bosses frustrate. Co-op lets a second player as Zahra freeze hazards, echoing Super Mario Galaxy‘s charm but underutilized. PSP’s 2.5D side-scroller emphasizes time-slowing for precision jumps, with rewind orbs gating retries; combat is tighter but boss-rushed. DS’s stylus-only controls innovate—swipe to slash, drag to climb—but imprecise input leads to deaths, and horse-riding segments feel tacked-on. The economic system (trading rubies for upgrades) adds RPG lite flavor across ports. Flaws abound: camera glitches in tight spaces, uneven difficulty spikes, and short length (8-10 hours) limit replayability, save for challenge arenas and survival modes. Innovations like elemental synergy elevate it above rote retreads, but it lacks the trilogy’s transformative “aha” moments.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The game’s setting—a besieged Persian kingdom swallowed by sandstorms—immerses through a tapestry of opulent ruins evoking Solomon’s mythic era. Towering minarets, lush gardens turned arid wastelands, and subterranean djinn realms form a vertical sandbox, with the palace as a living labyrinth. World-building draws from Middle Eastern folklore: the Sand Army as corrupted knights of Solomon, Razia’s Marid as ethereal guardians, blending history with fantasy. Atmosphere builds via dynamic destruction—palaces crumble under Ratash’s fury—fostering urgency, though backtracking through identical corridors dilutes wonder.

Visually, the Anvil engine delivers mixed results. Lush textures and particle effects shine in sand-swept vistas or frozen cascades, with the Prince’s fluid animations (kudos to director Jan-Erik Sjövall) conveying graceful lethality. Dynamic lighting casts dramatic shadows during storms, and elemental effects—like glowing runes or earthen reconstructions—pop with vibrancy. Yet, dated models and pop-in textures betray budget constraints; environments repeat motifs (vases, flags) without variety, and the 360/PS3 versions suffer aliasing. Wii’s art direction, with vibrant jungles and plant-overrun Izdahar, suits motion play but lacks polish, while PSP/DS’s 2.5D sprites feel serviceable but uninspired.

Sound design elevates the experience: Steve Jablonsky’s orchestral score, infused with Persian lutes and duduks, swells during climbs (e.g., the haunting “Razia’s Domain”), while Penka Kouneva’s choral cues underscore emotional beats. Combat pulses with metallic clashes and guttural roars, and environmental audio—cascading water, howling winds—immerses fully. Voice acting is a highlight: Lowenthal’s roguish Prince quips with charm (“Not again!”), Saffioti’s Razia exudes wisdom, and Tatasciore’s Ratash booms villainy. Wii’s Tom Salta score leans eclectic with mbiras and kanjiras, enhancing its standalone vibe. Subtleities like echoing footsteps in ruins contribute to tension, making the world feel alive—though localization issues in non-English ports occasionally jar.

Reception & Legacy

Upon release, Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands garnered solid but polarized reception, averaging 74% from 43 critics on MobyGames and 7.3/10 from players—ranking #10,666 overall but higher on consoles (#647 PS3, #657 360). Commercial performance was modest: Ubisoft reported strong initial sales tied to the film (over 1 million units shipped in week one), but it underperformed compared to Assassin’s Creed blockbusters, contributing to the series’ hiatus. Critics lauded platforming’s precision—IGN’s 8/10 called it a “treat for PoP fans”—and elemental innovations, with Gamespot’s 7.5/10 praising later puzzles as “surprises that entertain.” 411Mania’s 9/10 hailed it as a “wonderful throwback,” while Hooked Gamers (8/10) appreciated its “return to a familiar universe.”

Detractors focused on flaws: shallow combat (“monotone disappointment,” per 4Players’ 69%), predictable story, and brevity (6-8 hours). Eurogamer’s 6/10 deemed it a “nostalgic diversion” lacking forward momentum, and Gamekult’s 5/10 lambasted it as “réchauffé” (warmed-over). Wii’s version fared better at 77/100 on Metacritic, with IGN’s 8/10 and Game Informer’s 8/10 praising co-op and creativity, though motion controls drew ire (1Up’s C+). PSP/DS ports scored lower (60-70%), criticized for clunky controls and short campaigns. Player sentiment echoed this: 3.5/5 on Moby, with forums lamenting DRM woes and calling it “serviceable but forgettable.”

Over time, its reputation has warmed among retrospectives as a “lost gem” for platforming purists—IGN’s 2010 review revisited it positively in 2024 amid The Lost Crown‘s launch—but it’s often overshadowed by the trilogy. Influence-wise, it bridged eras, inspiring elemental mechanics in later Ubisoft titles like Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, but highlighted the series’ stagnation, prompting a 14-year gap until The Lost Crown. Commercially, it sold steadily on Steam ($1.99 sales) and backward-compatible Xbox, but ports like GOG requests underscore demand for DRM-free revivals. Ultimately, it solidified PoP’s niche as acrobatic fantasy but failed to reignite mainstream fire.

Conclusion

Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands is a poignant echo of a bygone era, blending exhilarating platforming and clever powers with narrative familiarity and technical rough edges. Its strengths—rhythmic traversal, thematic depth in brotherhood and power—outshine combat tedium and visual inconsistencies, offering 8-10 hours of nostalgic joy for series veterans. While platform variants add variety, the core experience shines as a competent interquel that humanizes the Prince’s evolution. In video game history, it occupies a transitional space: a valiant return that exposed reboot fatigue, paving the way for innovation in The Lost Crown. Verdict: 7.5/10—recommended for fans seeking Sands of Time vibes, but don’t expect a throne-reclaiming masterpiece. Replay it today; the sands wait for no one.