I have
written about my experiences playing From Software's “Soulsborne”
games a couple of times on this blog. For that reason, I can
distinctly recall my time in these games, which colored my
expectations going into Dark Souls 3. To my surprise, and somewhat to
my disappointment, the game didn't feel the way I expected it to.
Though it certainly is a shining example of what could be described
as a Souls game, Dark Souls 3 felt different than its predecessors.
As I
explored the desolate lands of Boletaria and Lordran, there was a
palpable sense of loneliness to the proceedings. It was as if I was
cold and alone against a world out to kill me, with its bands of
diverse and terrifying opponents setting their differences aside in a
concerted effort to block my path and take my life. Despite in many
ways going against those same odds, I never had that feeling of
isolation and hostility in Dark Souls 3. Rather than a world against
me, it felt as if every area was merely a stage for I and my fellow
players.
Much of
that simply stems from the fact that there are many more players in
Dark Souls 3 than there were in previous Souls games I had played. My
first runs of Demon's Souls and Dark Souls were both in the summer of
2015. By then, the games were 6 and 4 years old respectively. There
were certainly stragglers like myself who were still engaged with
them, but by and large most had already moved on to greener pastures.
And even if people were playing these games, my efforts to work with
them were minimal. In Demon's Souls, I spent almost the entire game
in Soul form, preventing me from summoning phantoms to aid me.
Likewise, I can count the number of bosses I defeated with other
players on a single hand. My experiences in both games are mostly
mine and mine alone. When push came to shove, I could only rely on
myself to get out of a hairy situation.
I can't
say the same thing when I look back on the total sum of my Dark Souls
3 experiences. Strangely, I was excited to, for once, be a part of
the community as the game comes out, exploring it together with
everyone. In a way, this ended up being counter to what I most
enjoyed in its older siblings. Talking with my Twitter friends, being
guided to secrets by random strangers, aiding other people and being
aided in turn, these were all wonderful experiences in their own
right. However, it meant that my journey was less a result of my own
effort and accomplishments, and more the gestalt of all of those who
joined me on my path. Random strangers who I will never know, and who
will never know me, were all working together to achieve a common
goal. Even when I was invaded/invading, it felt like a respectable
contest between peers and less an attempt of one person to sabotage
another. I could use many adjectives to describe my adventure, but
“lonely” is not one of them.
The NPCs
also seemed a lot more welcoming in Dark Souls 3 than they have been
in the past. My runs of Demon's Souls and Dark Souls are marked by a
sense that there weren’t many people in the world that would even
think to assist me. Outside of the Nexus, I remember that non-hostile
NPCs were scarce. It was at least 10 hours before I brought my first
new NPC back to the Nexus with me. Until then, the ones I had
encountered had either perished unceremoniously (sorry Ostrava), or
actively screwed me over (which is why, to this day, I murder Patches
every chance I get). Just finding a truly friendly face was a rare
treat. The same can be said of Dark Souls. While there are certainly
a few kind folks who inhabit the Firelink Shrine, most of them are
battered and broken when you find them. And by the time I finished my
journey, the most friendly of the lot, like Siegmeyer and Solarie,
had met with terrible fates.
By
contrast, in my first 10 hours of Dark Souls 3, I encountered a Robin
Hood-esque thief, a young woman who knows miracles and her protector,
an old pyromancer, a Darkmoon blade from the Sunless Realms, and
Siegmeyer's more capable descendant. All of these people had offered
their aid to me in some form, either as a vendor or a companion.
Where friendly faces were rare before, they were quite common place
now. I did not have to look far to find someone with a vested
interest in my success. Far from the isolation I once felt, Dark
Souls 3 provided an almost constant comfort by offering me my choice
of assistants and allies.
Even
though the abundance of other players and NPCs are large contributors
to why I have lost that adventurous, yet isolating spirit of the
previous games, there is another reason. At this point, I have played
so many Souls games, and particularly so many Dark Souls games, that
the mechanics and world are largely ingrained into my mind. When I
was a new player braving the perils of Boletaria, and later Lordran,
I often fell for the tricks and traps laid about. I would die to
ambushes than I should have seen coming in hindsight. I spent many
deaths learning each enemies attack patterns and figuring out the
weaknesses therein. I crashed through broken boards and into traps
that would be noted and avoided in the future. The designs of From
Software were alien to me. Learning them was half of the battle, and
half the fun.
Unfortunately,
there's only so far the Soulsian “fair” ambushes can go before
they reach the territory of just spawning in mooks in lieu of hiding
them in creative ways. That's not necessarily From Software's fault,
because it is infinitely easier for players to figure out their
tendencies than it is for them to think of new ways to surprise those
same players. But it does mean that I have gotten much better at
predicting when an ambush is likely to happen than I used to be.
I don't
remember ever being truly caught off guard while exploring the
shattered remains of Lothric and the lands surrounding it. At the
same time, I have a distinct memory of an archway in Irithyll of the
Boreal Valley. I had not seen nor heard any enemies in the room on
the other side, but I suspected that something was “off”. Looking
down and to my left, I saw a ledge that I could easily reach by
dropping down. Going into the hallway through the opening on this
ledge, I climbed a ladder that lead me to the other side of the room
beyond the archway, bypassing a group of enemies waiting to ambush
me. By just following a slight “off” feeling, I had anticipated
and subverted a snare that I would have easily fallen for before. At
the time, I felt smart for having trusted my instincts. In hindsight,
all I really did was just fall back on knowledge I had gained from 4
previous games' worth of experience. Not only wasn't I surprised by
the enemies’ tricks, I couldn't be, because I had already fallen
for them before.
Instead
of making me believe I was a single man out against a world which
wants nothing more than me to fail, Dark Souls 3 felt like reuniting
with an old friend I hadn't seen in awhile. There's nothing
inherently wrong with that quiet nostalgia. But the dreadful anxiety
I experienced the first time, as I explored the worlds of Demon's
Souls and Dark Souls, is a large part of why I fell in love with the
franchise. As disappointing as it is, I'm not sure that one could
ever adequately capture that atmosphere that drew me in when I first
started Soulsborne. Though I want so badly to feel that isolation,
that growing sense of isolation and excitement. I just don't believe
it's possible given how large an influence Soulsborne has become.
It's hard to feel alone and afraid when in the comfort of your home,
surrounded by the old and familiar. These games have become as much a
home to me as the house I live in, and that's exactly what I don't
want them to be.
