Camilo DelCódigo | Working on Ultima IX: Atonement

When people talk about Prince of Persia, the first thing they almost always mention is the incredibly fluid, lifelike animation. And they’re right, it was groundbreaking. But that alone doesn’t explain why the game became such a massive cultural icon. What truly made Prince of Persia special was how it defined the “cinematic platformer” genre. (Jordan Mechner had experimented with the idea earlier in Karateka, but on a much smaller scale.) The game pulled you into an immersive world filled with deadly traps, scary falls, and movement that actually felt like it had weight and real physics. Every jump needed perfect timing; one mistake could send you plummeting to your death, yet it always felt fair and believable - nothing like the bouncy, cartoonish platformers of the era (who were fun in their own right but a lot less realistic). The game wasn’t a simple left-to-right sprint either. You constantly backtracked, flipped switches, opened hidden passages, and solved the environment like an explorer or adventurer rather than a super-hero blasting your way through hordes of enemies. I found that it had thatIndiana Jones energy: part platformer, part puzzle, part exploration. Even the sword fights stood out. Instead of frantic button-mashing, duels were a lot more tactical battles where you had to read your opponent’s stance, parry at the right moment, and strike at the right time. Brains mattered more than reflexes. In the end, it was this rare sense of realism that set Prince of Persia apart. It had atmosphere, story, and brains. It’s no surprise the game helped inspire classics like Another World and Flashback. You could argue that Jordan Mechner wasn’t just making games but quietly (and maybe unknowingly) pioneering a more cinematic, mature side of the genre. I don’t want to sound overly nostalgic or sentimental, but for me Prince of Persia (1989) was a massive reason why gaming in those years felt more magical than today.