Gaming

I can back years later and cheated on a bit more health and more health potions. It was challenging still but I could at least experience the rest of the game.

See, here's the thing about Elden Ring (especially compared to older FromSoft games imo), you can do this right in the game. A boss kicking your ass? Walk away, go somewhere else and come back when you've leveled up more, maybe gotten some extra flasks for healing or upgraded your armor and weapons. Does Elden Ring do it well enough? That's up for debate and I have some complaints in that department myself (the final boss of the DLC before the nerf is the only time that I've ever put down the controller and decided that beating a FromSoft boss simply wasn't worth the effort - especially after looking at the wiki and seeing one attack that needs a frame perfect dodge to avoid being hit and another where they straight up said "we don't know how you're supposed to dodge this attack"), but it is built right into the game.

But after at a certain point, accessibility comes at compromising design integrity. Every piece of media doesn't have to cater to everyone. I don't see people complaining about Andy Warhol gatekeeping because colorblind people can't see all his paintings. Or that Ozzy Osbourne didn't make enough country music songs. But with games, it's a different story. People complain constantly about games not catering to everybody. Bennett Foddy made an entire game to talk about this. It's called Getting Over It, and it's considered one of the hardest games of all time. If you've never seen it, I highly suggest reading his monologue at least, as I think it's very relevant to any conversation about game difficulty, especially Souls games which are the most frequent subject of this discussion.

This game is an homage to a free game that came out in 2002, titled 'Sexy Hiking.' The author of the game was Jazzuo, a mysterious Czech designer who was known at the time as the father of B-games. B-games are rough assemblages of found objects. Designers slap them together very quickly and freely, and they're often too rough and unfriendly to gain much of a following. They're built more for the joy of building them than as polished products.

In a certain way, Sexy Hiking is the perfect embodiment of a B-game. It's built almost entirely out of found and recycled parts, and it's one of the most unusual and unfriendly games of its time. In it, your task is simply to drag yourself up a mountain with a hammer. The act of climbing, in the digital world or in real life, has certain essential properties that give the game it's flavor. No amount of forward progress is guaranteed; some cliffs are too sheer, or too slippery. And the player is constantly, unremittingly, in danger of falling and losing everything.

Anyway, when you start Sexy Hiking, you're standing next to a dead tree, which blocks the way to the entire rest of the game. It might take you an hour to get over that tree. A lot of people never got past it. You prod and poke at it, exploring the limits of your reach and strength, trying to find a way up. And there's a sense of truth in that lack of compromise. Most obstacles in videogames are fake; you can be completely confident in your ability to get through them, once you have the correct method or the correct equipment, or just by spending enough time. In that sense, every pixelated obstacle in Sexy Hiking is real.

The obstacles in Sexy Hiking are unyielding, and that makes the game uniquely frustrating. But I'm not sure Jazzuo intended to make a frustrating game - the frustration is just essential to the act of climbing, and it's authentic to the process of building a game about climbing. A funny thing happened to me as I was building this mountain: I'd have an idea for a new obstacle, and I'd build it, test it, and it would usually turn out to be unreasonably hard. But I couldn't bring myself to make it easier. It already felt like my inability to get past the new obstacle was my fault, as a player, rather than as the builder. Imaginary mountains build themselves from our efforts to climb them, and it's our repeated attempts to reach the summit that turns those mountains into something real.

When you're building a video game world, you're building with ideas, and that can be like working with quick-set cement. You mold your ideas into a certain shape that can be played with, and in the process of playing with them, they begin to harden and set until they are immutable, like rock. At that point, you can't change the world. Not without breaking it into pieces and starting fresh with new ideas.

One of the things people love about Souls games is the challenge of it - not difficulty, as difficulty for the sake of difficulty is bad design (see my complaints above), but the challenge of learning how a boss moves like you'd learn the rhythm to a dance or a song. You'll get pushback because Souls games cater to a specific audience who crave that kind of struggle. The story, music, and world of FromSoft games are great, but these gamers feel that without the obstacles to overcome, the games would be missing a core component of what makes them great, and that by removing it you would cheapen the experience for yourself. Like wanting to play a city builder but you don't want to have to place any roads. At that point, why not just watch a playthrough on YouTube?

For years now, people have been predicting that games would soon be made out of prefabricated objects, bought in a store and assembled into a world. And for the most part that hasn't happened, because the objects in the store are trash. I don't mean that they look bad or that they're badly made, although a lot of them are - I mean that they're trash in the way that food becomes trash as soon as you put it in a sink. Things are made to be consumed and used in a certain context, and once the moment is gone, they transform into garbage. In the context of technology, those moments pass by in seconds.

Over time, we've poured more and more refuse into this vast digital landfill that we call the internet. It now vastly outnumbers and outweighs the things that are fresh, untainted and unused. When everything around us is cultural trash, trash becomes the new medium, the lingua France of tue digital age. You could build culture out of trash, but only trash culture. B-games, B-movies, B-music, B-philosophy.

Maybe this is what digital culture is. A monstrous mountain of trash, the ash heap of creativity's fountain. A landfill of everything we've ever thought of in it, grand, infinite, and unsorted.

...

Everything's fresh for about six seconds, until some newer thing beckons and we hit refresh. And there's years of persevering disappearing into the pile, out of style, out of sight.

In this context, it's tempting to make friendly content that's gentle, that lets you churn through it but not earn it. Why make something demanding, if it's just gonna get piled up in the landfill, filed with the bland things?

When games were new, they wanted a lot from you. Daunting you, taunting you, resetting and delaying you. Players played stoically. Now everyone's turned off by that. They want to burn through it quickly, a quick fix for the fickle, some tricks for the clicks of the feckless. But that's not you, you're an acrobat. You could swallow a baseball bat.

Now I know, most likely you are watching this on YouTube or Twitch while some dude with 10 million views does it for you. Like a baby bird being fed chewed up food. And that's culture too.

But on the off chance that you are playing this, what I'm saying is trash is disposable, but it doesn't have to be approachable. What's the feeling like? Are you stressed? I guess you don't hate it if you got this far. Feeling frustrated, it's underrated.

An orange, a sweet juicy fruit locked inside a bitter peel. That's not how I feel about a challenge. I only want the bitterness. Its coffee, its grapefruit, its licorice.

It feels like we're closer now. Composer and climber, designer and user. You could have refused but you didn't. There was something hidden in you that chose to continue.

It means a lot to me that you've come this far, endured this much, every wisecrack, every insensitivity, every setback you've forgiven me is a kingly gift that you've given me.

Have you ever thought about who you are in this? Are you the man in the pot, Diogenes? Are you his hand? Are you the top of his hammer? I think not - where your hand moves, the hammer may not follow, nor the man, nor the man's hand. In this, you are his WILL. His intent. His embodied resolve in his uphill ascent.

Now, you've conquered the ice cliffs, the platforms, the church, the rectory, the living room, the factory, the playground, and the construction site, the granite rocks, and the lakeside. You've learned to hike. There's no way left to go but up, and in a moment, I'll shut up, but let me say, I'm glad you came.

I dedicate this game to you, the one who came this far, I give it to you with all my love.

"If you try to please audiences, uncritically accepting their tastes, it can only mean that you have no respect for them" --Andrei Tarkovsky