I’ll be blunt: if you’re waiting for Mafia: The Old Country to flip the whole genre upside down or set a new bar for storytelling, you’ll walk away empty. The game feels like it slipped between the pages of the past, parked in a familiar playbook where the moral map is printed in black and white and the biggest twist is which of the big bosses gets dumped in the river. The scenery is gorgeous, the cars and suits gleam like museum pieces, and the shooting and driving still hum the right vintage tune. But the story is so carefully hemmed in that even the sturdy ma like Godfather would raise an eyebrow and mutter “let loose a little.”

I can’t deny it feels warm, like sliding into a diner booth that still has the same vinyl menu. Yet, among today’s Haunting, year-long character arcs and villains you can’t even high-five in the mirror, the chapter-long saga of who-stabbed-who feels like a love letter you tuck away rather than write back to. The game is a big bowl of mac and cheese: you feel full for a few minutes, but unless you’re the sentimental sort, the whole plate is out of your head by dessert.

A Spot-on Route Through Pretty Streets

The tale travels a road so worn the kids could follow it in slippers. You step into Enzo’s slightly scuffed loafers: a junior muscle with a conscience stitched into his suit. Right away, he’s learning the difference between “Capisce?” and “Why the hell?” and you know he’ll test the difference soon. Each mission, each shady midnight phone call, clicks into place exactly where the genre manual indicates. Betrayals, blood feuds, and a weekly pasta dinner in the sour underbelly: check, check, check. A curveball would feel nice, but the steering wheel won’t budge.

The engine purring under this well-sealed hood is Enzo’s soft-eyed crush on Isabella, the Don’s only rose. They meet in forbidden gardenia-scented glances and turtlenecks, assuring us the growth of a mighty personal storm while the timer on the hit squad ticks. Yet her emotional dial barely nudges beyond “mysterious sigh.” You nod, you root, you politely eye the door for something risqué like subplots or flashbacks. When the hazy slow-motion “no, Enzo, don’t shoot!” finally rolls, the buttoned-up fireworks fizzle out like soggy caps. You’re happy for the characters, but the story’s voice is more soap opera rerun than opera beneath the stars.

A World Worth Wandering, Even Sans a Mission

The standout triumph of this game is the stunning visual feast it lays before you. Hangar 13 has crafted the most richly detailed game world they’ve ever made, and it shows on every screen. Nineteenth-century Sicily springs to life with a diligence that borders on the obsessive. You can practically see the hand-stitched wool of the character suits, the tiny flecks of rust glinting on the period cars, and the gentle curves of the buildings that only a true historian would think to get exactly right. The artists behind the scenery have poured their hearts onto the canvas, and they deserve every round of applause they’re going to get.

The bad news is that players who buy cheap PS4 games can no longer enjoy this saga. The good news is that the team brought back the beloved “Explore” mode, so you can wander the world without the undercooked story dragging you along. This free-roaming option is easily the game’s crown jewel. You can glide through the countryside, duck into a sun-soaked village square, and pause to listen to the soft clink of coins or the distant chatter of townsfolk. In these still, unhurried moments, the game lifts its head and flexes its highest production value. The world doesn’t just exist—it hums.

Dull Steel: The Tedious Reality of Knife Combat

The new knife combat system was supposed to be a highlight, but it ended up being a letdown. On standard difficulty, the blades feel like butter—just hammer the attack button and watch the enemies drop. There’s no planning, no timing, no risk—just swing, swing, swing.

The only part that tries to be tricky is the resharpening mechanic, which forces you to reload your knife’s edge after every few stealth takedowns. Instead of clever enemy design or layered combat choices, you get a menu prompt that reminds you it’s a game. The mechanic is meant to feel authentic, but it lands like a speed bump, disrupting the flow without adding any real tension or reward. You’ll use the knife in every boss fight, and it works, but it’s also forgettable—competent to the point of being invisible.

The Verdict: Style Over Substance

Mafia: The Old Country is full of contradictions. Its world is one of the prettiest and most detailed I’ve seen in ages, yet the story rides the rails of old clichés instead of charting a new course. The combat is polished enough to get the job done, but it feels like a greatest-hits playlist of choices you already know. The cities you roam feel alive; the choices you make don’t.

Longtime fans who buy PS5 adventure games will smile at seeing younger versions of characters they’ve missed and will enjoy hunting for hidden callbacks. The Deluxe Edition does reward that curiosity, since the digital artbook is a treasure trove of stunning concept art. Still, I can’t shake a feeling that this lavish package is a shell, polished outside and strangely empty inside. The game is solid, polished, and polite, but that’s all it wants to be— a dutiful, loving encore for a series that once dreamed of grander heights.