Every Friday, A.V. Club staffers kick off the weekend by taking a look at the world of gaming, diving in to the ideas that underpin the hobby we love with a bit of Game Theory. We’ll sound off in the space above, and invite you to respond down in the comments, telling us what you’re playing this weekend, and what theories it’s got you kicking around.
The release of Shadow Of The Erdtree, the first (and only) expansion for From Software’s bestselling Elden Ring, has, of course, kicked off a new round of The Discourse surrounding video game difficulty, because From’s games always do that. The studio’s games are famous—and infamous—for incorporating difficulty directly into their designs, making frustration, struggle, and the slow overcoming of seemingly insurmountable challenges part of the emotional geography of their titles. The embrace of frustration as a design element is one of the things that makes Dark Souls and its many descendants feel singular; these are games about the small, the weak, the pathetic, and the forgotten becoming mighty, and a big part of that is making every inch of progress feel like a precious flicker of flame, stolen from the gods.
So what do you do if the mountain is simply too big to climb?
I’ll be honest: This is a (hopefully spoiler-free) column about the final boss of Shadow Of The Erdtree, a boss fight that I have now challenged roughly 100 times (representing 6 or 7 hours of my life, some of which were exhilarating, most of which were just deeply dispiriting), and the slow process of going from “I’m learning this, I’m picking up the details of this fight” to “I might have hit my ceiling.” I would never claim that this final boss is unbeatable—people were posting kill videos on YouTube and Twitch within about 72 hours of the DLC coming out—but he might not be beatable by me.
And this just might be the “turning 40" in me, but that’s okay.
The process of learning a boss in a Dark Souls game tends to follow a predictable pattern: An initial burst of shock and awe, as you see an enemy pull out their flashy moves and combos for the first time. “Fuck, how do I dodge that?” is a common early refrain, applied to giant explosions, brutal grab attacks, and, occasionally, barrages of humungous snakes. And then, as you throw yourself into the thresher again and again, the patterns start to form. “She raises her right arm before she unleashes the big spell.” “There’s a single second delay before the final hit of this combo.” “The dodge windows on this humongous snake are surprisingly generous.” You start adjusting how, and when, you strike, finding windows for safe retaliation. Slowly, mastery begins to solidify.
When it comes to the final boss of Erdtree, I can’t seem to see the patterns. They swing too fast, with too many variations and complications, to learn the patterns that must be lurking underneath the spectacle. The windows to hit back are too narrow—and when I do see them, I’m not taking off enough health to justify the risk. Somewhere around attempt 80 I realized I wasn’t getting better at this, that practice wasn’t making perfect, and that’s when the despair really set in.
Despair is an underrated emotion in game design.
Over the last week or so, people have been review-bombing Shadow Of The Erdtree on Steam a bit for its difficulty. Some of that anger is at least partially justified, if also somewhat hyperbolic: In its effort to give players who’ve beaten the base game a serious challenge, From has turned up the damage numbers of the expansion’s foes very high. (While also introducing a new mechanic, the Scadutree blessing, to help diligent explorers even the playing field.) Several of the bosses—including early stand-out Rellana The Twin Moon Knight—start at the level of complexity of endgame Elden Ring bosses, and only build from there. One of the expansion’s clear goals is to make you sweat, just like you did when you first embarked into the Lands Between.
I’ve loved it. Call it masochism, call it sheer bloodymindedness, call it digital Stockholm Syndrome, but I’ve always loved the climb in From’s games. I live for the moment when a fight clicks, when the download arrives and you start dancing with a difficult boss. Along with the incredible world design—which Erdtree has in spades, as one of From’s most fascinating pieces of map building ever—it’s why I come to these games again and again. There are some very good imitators out there, but nobody does it quite like this team.
Getting stomped into the dirt of the Realm Of Shadow by the expansion’s final boss can’t change that love, or touch my appreciation for everything the expansion does so incredibly well. (I could go on for another 5 paragraphs about the expansion’s looping, secret-filled map design, deep and incredible secrets hiding behind the most innocuous of places, every edge hiding another incredible chunk of game or strange mystery to unravel.) It simply means that my story ends with my Tarnished meeting his match; after 150 hours of godslaying, he finally bit off a fight too big for his claws and Blood Grease to successfully pierce.
There’s an old piece of fanon from the original Dark Souls that addresses a paradox in the game’s plot: In that title, you’re a “hollow,” basically zombies who live in constant danger of losing their minds—something the player never has to deal with. The argument has always been that of course your player character never goes hollow—until you hit a wall, as a player, and give up on the quest, abandoning forward progress to just sit down at some bonfire until the end of time. The willpower that’s being tested isn’t the character’s but the player’s; in a world designed to stymie you at every turn, losing the ability to persevere in the face of adversity is the only true measure of success. Not “git gud,” the hateful slogan of mouthbreathers worldwide, but “git strong.”
I may have reached the end of my journey with Shadow Of The Erdtree, falling at the final post, “hollowing out” in the old phrasings. But that doesn’t change the quality of the journey itself. My Tarnished has overcome incredible challenges, dueled with gods and demons, channeled the might of dragons, eldritch beasts, and, on one notable occasion, the magical prowess of giant, sentient fingers. (R.I.P. the night I spent invading people as Dr. Fingers, master of finger sorceries!) I’m okay with his story ending like this, cut down by the world’s most spam-happy godling. It’s been a hell of a run.
And, who knows? Maybe in a week or so, I’ll come back to the game, look at the final boss’ moveset, and feel that click. (Or From will acknowledge that they might have made things a bit too hardcore this time around and accede to player demands by turning the “Get fucked” dial down a bit.) But I’ll never forget that feeling of “Oh, I don’t think I can do this.” It’s an important part of the emotional journey of my time with Elden Ring. It’s a hard-fought, beautiful kind of despair.