Mafia: The Old Country – Is Shorter Actually Smarter, Mate?
AI Gaming News Author · Eurogamer ·
Mafia: The Old Country cuts through the typical open-world bloat, delivering a surprisingly focused and gripping mob story carried by excellent narrative and character performances, despite its often rote gameplay; a true 'less is more' victory for Hangar 13.
Right, so apparently Hangar 13 just dropped *Mafia: The Old Country*, and if you’re like me, your initial thought might be, “Another mob game? Haven’t we seen all those fedora-wearing, ‘omerta’-whispering clichés before?” But here’s the kicker: this game is wilder than it first appeared, mainly because it pulls a genuine magic trick – it gets in, tells its story, and then confidently extracts itself from your brain in under 15 hours. No 40-hour grind, no live service shenanigans. Bloody hell, it's almost revolutionary in its restraint!
You know that feeling when you cast a spell and it works a bit too well, delivering exactly what you needed without all the usual collateral damage? That’s what *Mafia: The Old Country* just did. On paper, it’s a bit ‘by-the-numbers’, a touch dated in its design, according to the boffins over at Eurogamer (who got stuck into it first, fair play to them). Yet, it’s one of those rare beasts that’s ‘more than the sum of its parts’. When I squint and really think about the individual components, I reckon I should like it less. But in the grand scheme of things, it just… works. It’s got a grip, mate.
This fourth main entry in the *Mafia* series is fascinating for a few reasons, good and… well, less good, but all intriguing. It’s clearly a deliberate swing at dealing with the elephant in the room that’s been stomping all over the gaming landscape for years: game length. We’ve all seen it – the sprawling open worlds, the endless side quests, the commitment that feels more like a part-time job than a bit of fun. *The Old Country* is what I’d call a 'truncated triple-A'. It’s got all the big-budget polish and ambition, but none of the ego that demands you clear your social calendar for a month. And honestly? It’s better for it.
Now, I rather liked *Mafia 3*, the last mainline entry, but let’s be honest, its sprawling open world and that twisty tale of revenge sure did go on a bit. My most vivid memory of that game, despite enjoying it at the time, is that bloody repetitive wire-tapping activity. It felt less like a mobster’s dangerous chore and more like my actual weekly errands. *The Old Country*? None of that. It’s stripped back, simplified, and wants to do a handful of things well enough to deliver a story that’ll genuinely grip you. And it largely succeeds.
Some of that streamlining is immediately obvious. The slice of Sicily where the story unfolds is, at first glance, an open world. You can drive around, take in the scenery. But it’s not truly ‘open’. There are no police patrols harassing you, no laundry list of tedious side activities, no wires to tap (thank the digital gods!). Instead, it’s just… pretty. It’s a gorgeous, characterful backdrop, a perfectly framed Hollywood backlot for all the bloody affairs. The original review noted it feels ‘filmic’, and that’s spot on. It doesn’t try to be a 'living, breathing' world like some ambitious RPG. It knows what it is – a curated, beautiful stage for a very specific drama.
Another clever bit of streamlining comes in the combat. You’re a mafioso in early 1900s Sicily, famed for roughing folks up, but here? You can’t even throw a punch. It’s all blades or bullets. Sounds weird, right? Like a bit of a cop-out? But in context, it just feels like another deliberate choice to keep things focused. This game isn’t about a sandbox of violence; it’s about a specific kind of mobster narrative, which is best served by perfidious sneakery, blazing gun battles, or those intensely cinematic one-on-one knife duels. And that’s precisely what you get. No extraneous bells and whistles. It’s a masterclass in 'less is more' – a concept too many big studios still haven't quite grasped, bless their cotton socks.
It’s that story, though, that carries the whole damn affair. The performances are top-notch, the characters truly evocative, and the path the narrative charts, initially playing all the familiar mob hits, genuinely blossoms into something affecting and interesting. I’m a sucker for these kinds of tales, even the dusty old *Godfather* novels that aren't Puzo, so I’m usually looking for a bit more than just the usual wiseguy clichés. Early on, as protagonist Enzo Favara gets plucked from misery into a thriving mob family, I admit, my eyes glazed over a touch. “Here we go again,” I thought. But then, a surprisingly convincing love story began to unfurl in snatched moments and subtle facial expressions. Coupled with the stunning digital Sicily – those Mediterranean blue skies, the vibrant flora, the looming volcano – it kept me hooked. Plus, the driving’s surprisingly fun; drifty, rickety old cars that actually feel good to push around, even with an optional ‘simulation’ mode for the purists.
And those characters? Initially, you might roll your eyes. Johnny Santiago’s Don Torrisi, with that whispered rasp of a voice – sure, it’s a bit Brando-esque. But then something deeper emerges, particularly as the story takes some unexpected turns. The voice work, combined with brilliant animation (a furrowed brow here, a cruel quirk of the mouth there), really sells it. Riccardo Frascari’s Enzo, in particular, grows from a troubled young man into something far more complex. The concept of life in the family as both a luxurious path and a gilded cage truly comes to the fore. It's not an entirely original story, no, but it’s framed in a way that’s enthralling, especially by gaming standards.
Now, this narrative brilliance does rub up against some of the game’s realities. Design-wise, *The Old Country* is, at a push, relatively rote. It’s tradition personified. You’ll have your cinematic storytelling bits, then a scenic drive while your allies chatter, then you arrive and either sneak in or get rumbled and start blasting. Even if stealth goes well, you’ll inevitably get spotted in a cutscene halfway through and have to fight your way out through a labyrinth of conveniently placed chest-high walls. And often, it all climaxes in a one-on-one knife fight. It’s generally fine, but there are frustrations. The stealth can be baffling – enemies are either painfully thick or suddenly omniscient. And the signposting? Sometimes so obtuse it makes me want to pull my hair out, like dying to a grenade I couldn’t even see the warning icon for. Little things like that can chip away at the immersion.
But then, you notice the clever touches. The hyper-satisfying force of heavier weapons, slamming enemies like a brick through a plate-glass window. Or how the in-universe road signs actually adjust to point towards your objective – which, granted, feels a bit less clever when there’s a giant yellow icon doing the same thing. So, there’s rough, and there’s smooth. You learn to take them together.
Broadly speaking, these are tried-and-true elements, structurally and mechanically, if a little over-familiar. You might find yourself scratching your head at the narrative asking you to ponder Enzo’s conflict about killing one unarmed man, after you’ve just mowed down thirty blokes without a second thought to get there. Many games are guilty of this, of course, but *Mafia: The Old Country* shoots for a solemnity that makes the dissonance feel a bit more prominent. It’s a game of two halves, then: dated design sensibilities meet modern production values and narrative flair. They’re vaguely mismatched, yet somehow, they aren’t. Like a mad scientist’s monster that’s surprisingly good at interior decorating.
If you’re willing to accept, as I did, that the relatively unremarkable gameplay is simply a slick vehicle for some genuinely lovely storytelling, then you’re probably in for a good time. Old Billy Shakespeare famously said, “Brevity is the soul of wit,” and *Mafia: The Old Country* channels that vibe. It’s not Shakespeare, sure, not even Puzo, but it certainly doesn’t waste your time. The simplicity of its systems and even its curated world design all serve a purpose: the fluff is cut right back. What you get is exactly what Hangar 13 needed to tell this story – nothing more, nothing less. And sometimes, mate, in this bloated gaming landscape, a slighter, more focused experience is exactly what the doctor ordered. *Mafia: The Old Country* might come with a few caveats, enough to load up the back of a bootlegger's truck, but if you go in understanding what you’re getting, you’ll likely have a grand old time. It’s a curious beast, this one, but a pretty compelling argument for quality over sheer, relentless quantity.
Tags: Action-Adventure, Narrative, Single-Player, Hangar13, GamingReview
Original article: Eurogamer