DS3 yanks you from your chair to embrace you like a cannibal mother. Thereon, it's tunnel vision. I breathed it, dreamed it, pestered my friends with stories of heroic feats I alone found amusing. As long as I feel such a strong connection with a game I inhabit, I enjoy being poisoned, gangbanged in a corner, and cursed to death. When you learn how to deal with the game's difficulty, you begin to see that it serves as an adhesive which bonds you two by amplifying your agency. And it's not so unfair when you realise how many ways to overcome hardships there are. Being a dunce who died a thousand deaths, fell for every false opening and off every cliff, I still won. Because Souls aren't pedantic about one's playstyle. Likewise, I have my preferences (ugly mug, polearms, no summons), but I don't tell others how to play. Go unga-bunga or barrage the lands with devastating spells. Cheese & exploit. Your choices are respected, and that's the beauty of it.

Visual beauty, too. Apart from the typical soapy texture-popping and random stuttering, I had no issues. The appeal of DS3 is bleak and chambered, isolated to smaller areas unlike that of Elden Ring. Here, in place of the epic scale, the trusty Medieval setting frames an austere Gothic corridor slasher with grindhouse vibes. Timeless. You never know where its implicit beauty might jump you. It can be a corpse mound or a crimson pool of blood in a pantry. It can be a ditch in the slums, a set of armour sparkling in the Sun, a swing of a halberd leaving a fiery trace. Sometimes the light frames a scrupulously crafted scene in such a way it resembles a painting. Or maybe an epic chant suddenly hits you in the chest when you admire a vista, wondering how life here looked before the collapse. Curiosity comes naturally when you traverse a world so atmospheric.

The artistic aspects of the game are interwoven, its lore is inseparable from the sights. In the spirit of the series, even the lore fights back. You'll have to claw pieces of it from obtuse questlines and item descriptions. I wasn't a fan of the opaque approach initially, but it grew on me. I prefer it to the homogenising over-explaining of everything until it's so smooth it's featureless. Games are living things in need of space to breathe. To scoop them out of all enigmas is vivisection. Having said that, the story isn't that murky, for our avatar's goal aligns with ours: you're both here to grant death. Once again, you are a murder hobo destined to clean up the mess or make a bigger one after everything has already happened in a world long gone. Once again, the series reflects the cyclicity of cataclysms, showing us there's nothing more fragile than colossi, more miserable than broken sods buried under their rubble, more pathetic than kingdomless royalty.

In the ex-kingdom of Lothric, every stake is heightened. The ruined world is stuck between planes of existence. Should you choose to give it a push or become another King Nothing, you'll have to face the world's past, buried in castles and catacombs where the forgotten Gods and the Chosen Ones of old dwell in grief. To take their lives is to save their souls. Then exchange those for cool boss weapons, you know what I'm saying? Justly worshipped for the emotions it elicits and the mindset it fosters, the trifecta of exploring, fighting, and looting is king. With the lore permeating all. If you want it! Not everyone needs a reason to smash the wheezing undead, Lovecraftian horrors, and Satanic demons lurking around every corner. Kill them all, find their lords, kings, and gods. Do them in, too. Take their place, spit on it, then move on. But get caught lacking and they'll tear you limb from limb.

ER has higher highs and lower lows, it's a race between the best bosses ever, while DS3 has an evened-out, consistent level of clusterf#ck inflicted by normal enemies, making exploration more tense. Apart from being the scariest Souls I played, what's different after hopping on it after ER is the sense of being gently directed instead of wiggling like a dong in a bucket. Linear at the start, more dead ends and locked doors than usual, the game expands later while staying restrained. Don't expect an open or interconnected world. At the centre of your world, there's a hub where you can cash in your souls to raise stats or upgrade your gear. Right away, you can instatravel between bonfires, often the only things that connect levels together. On a larger scale, the game branches quite a bit, so you can still complete areas and beat bosses on your own accord, but the areas stay separated instead of looping around globally. A step back, but not a deal-breaker.

The levels are varied and expansive; with shortcut porn, secrets to uncover, sights to see. The same sense of discovery, half the overthinking. Unravelling them metroidvania-style feels great. Not being a free bird is fine as long as the encounter design and bosses are so tight and rewarding. Another positive side-effect of restraint is that, without sacrificing the build variety, it's much harder to accidentally overlevel. The resulting solid difficulty curve made me feel powerful, yet not overpowered. I always felt on edge as I conquered each room, unable to stop. How can one resist the Siren call of unexplored dungeons, promising visceral battles and glimmering treasures? In a world where stakes are so high, nothing motivates exploration like violence and the promise of new attire, a spell, or a nice weapon. Give me the gear of kings, the power creep! It's Fashion Souls alright. But it's not all vanity. The lengths you have to go to get the best stuff helps you inhabit your character.

And nothing truly puts you in their shoes like a good boss. Most bossfights complement the deliberate stamina-based combat system perfectly. It's as rigid and simultaneously freeform as ever, playing off commitments and predictions based on pattern recognition. The bosses are fair, featuring merciful runbacks, neat hitboxes, and cool movesets. Enjoy your attempts, don't waste those on entitled frustrations. A few overzealous wombo-combos can be tolerated along with a share of lame guys like Deacons or Wolnir. There are more good ones like the Abyss Watchers. I admire how, just for one example of many, the boss perfectly fits its place on the timeline, presenting the first gentle bump in difficulty that signalises: the introduction is over. It shows how diligently From thinks the player's experiences through. Then the game gives you a breathing room before letting out bangers like Aldrich or Twin Princes. I love a boss that throws you off and doesn't just let you hug its cake, even if it's not as demanding as just interesting like, say, Crystal Sage.

It's also obvious From were obsessed with pairs & phases at the time. They went all-out, primarily in the DLCs. Sister Friede iced me like no one else before her, even Malenia. You barely beat her two phases, heart pumps battery acid... then they throw in a third one! Motherf#ck. And don't get me started on Midir, that worm stumped me for ages. I say it lovingly. Remember, you're never really stalled, for each attempt progresses your comprehension of a fight. Persist! Beating a good boss doesn't only evoke a sense of relief or pride, but also gratitude. Grateful is how I feel. By the uncanny ability to permanently imprint itself on you, Dark Souls turns your brutal struggles and moments of silent admiration into permanent memories to cherish. After all these times I snatched defeat from the jaws of victory and vice versa, the pain and the pleasure stay with me. It was so sad to say goodbye. Like many others, one day I shall return to try and recapture the feeling. For now, I shall savour the aftertaste.

My curator Big Bad Mutuh

Finally, it has come full circle! The original game made me who I am today - a compulsive hoarder. Only in virtual worlds, thankfully. I was so traumatized by all the panic and creature horror, but most of all - the inventory horror! Unprecedented for the time, the scarcity angle caught me off guard, and, for better or worse, it was never repeated to the same degree within the main series. To this day, I always have oodles of consumables left unused in any RPG, boast Amazon storages of ammunition in shooters, and I've beaten Silent Hill 2 into submission by primarily using a nail board. Bless your shivering, shrieking core, PTSD! Here I am, sinking my teeth into the necrotic pudding once more. Rich and creamy.

In the light of what I just said, it may sound weird, but RE sort of calms me down. There's no other way - you pull yourself together or get pulled apart. Collected, I tune in to its rhythmic pacing and calculated tension. I soak in the atmosphere, flow with the ambiance, and appreciate how the game treats its ripe horror tropes. While my love for Silent Hill is high-functioning, cerebral, what I feel for this franchise is visceral, almost carnal. Undeniably, I'm a die-hard fan. The last time I could call myself a fan happily, I was playing Fallout 2 while listening to Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. But it's coming back now, it's coming back. Happiness, not Limp Bizkit.

https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2639724285
I suppose I need to start this thing off properly with the game's story? I don't even think I need to give you my take on it. Who gives a crap about my thoughts on Mozart, for example? Okay, here you go: virus bad, Barry is my hunny bunny, mansion traps, monsters Cronenberg, your inventory is full, Salieri was falsely accused and then the fallacy was sung by poets for drama points. Not that sophisticated of a premise by modern standards, but a trendsetting classic nonetheless. I would never think of adding or subtracting anything like I wouldn't change a thing about a cat. Here, the golden cheese of outlandish voice acting got fixed, however, the old one remains out there forever, so I don't mind.

With a few notable exceptions, backtracking-intensive puzzles boil down to "I can't wait to get rid of this thing to save up some inventory space" kinds of entente. To boot, every so often, you're welcome to die after failing to figure out the logic behind a strict sequence of steps to perform on the double. No hard feelings though. Each time I inserted another object into another slot and heard the satisfying *click* or took the right course of action, it echoed inside my weary soul. I made some progress, I freed up some space, I lived, after all! Indulging an important relieving pause, my mind starts racing again, I'm on the move. I definitely saw a herb and some sweet shotgun ammo during my last impetuous scamper through the eastern wing.

The remake has added an "Alternative" movement type as an option, but I initially went for tank controls anyway. The keyboard lends itself fine to this scheme, this is how I played the original. Yeah, yeah, you can't just lounge back and enjoy yourself while playing, but I'm okay with hunching like a true nerd. Tank controls have their charm, even some nostalgic value to me. Besides, horror only gets juicier the more uncomfortable it makes you feel... so I told myself until I finally found a spare mini-USB adapter, plugged in my gamepad, and tried the alternative. What can I say? Nothing beats instant turning, tank controls have no chance against such an obscene advantage! Although, they deserve to be honored for serving us faithfully - like horses before the age of cars or spittoons before the age of swallowing our phlegm.

Speaking of paradigm shifts, they did a number on this remake's presentation. The competent use of dynamic lighting and crisp shadows makes certain moments even more dreadful than before, and locations - even more memorable, despite being somewhat drained of color. The detailed body horror of smooth models, headsplosions, and grimy pre-rendered backgrounds look fantastic, getting emphasized by the cinematic camera. In professional hands, dramatic camera angles really tie it all together! Nothing can set things up and create meticulously controlled experiences for a player quite as they do. And thanks to them, the perfect 80's horror sets that are this mansion's intricate, interconnected environments are the scariest character in the game.

Remember the room where you see a zombie around the corner in a mirror or these infamous hallways with cracking windows? Such well-manipulated scares! And you don't always need a threat for things to get eerie - like with these menacing staircase shots snatched directly from Alone in the Dark. Creating tension where there isn't a thing otherwise (as yet) and sustaining it is high art where, needless to say, the masterful sound design does half the job. Sure, clutch angles also cause such jarring issues as obstructing your vision when it's least appropriate, ending up with you getting blindsided by something that your character should've noticed from a mile away. I brush it off by saying that beauty requires sacrifice and sometimes it's chunks of your face.

https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2755107407
You know what would be dakka? To just push-kick a zombie. Could one possibly catch your foot? Then again, hit too hard and you'll get stuck in its rotting guts. Zombie theories! Many of us are wired to always loop back to those in moments of respite. Anyway, it took me a while to learn how to evade properly, and even then, I wasn't exactly a floating butterfly, so I died a lot. In RE, however, losing a whole hour of progress is not a huge tragedy since redoing everything in a more efficient way is a treat in itself. To a degree. It's a genuinely hard game full of devious beginner's traps. After 3 hours of rapidly snowballing collapse, I swallowed my pride and restarted on medium difficulty, amply lubing the inverted difficulty curve.

Even with the new controls and the addition of defensive items seen in recent remakes, the game stays challenging, which is appreciated by veterans and amateurs alike. As for me, I'm happy with my humble "easy" victory for which poor Jill had to die a thousand deaths. I can't say I'm dying to experience an even smaller inventory, so, Chris, my apologies. Jill is the one who's packing. But enough about dying! Killing here is pleasant... and punitive. So cathartic, gory, fairly gratuitous, though simultaneously discouraged by sensible ammo shortage and fast Crimson Head zombies who start spawning later in the game from the bodies you made, but didn't burn or decapitate. It sounds like a nuisance, but no enemy is worse than dogs and birds anyway, trust me. The same goes for their in-game counterparts.

Being restricted and weak lends itself to the genre perfectly. Resident Evil knows how to play these cards expertly, it's confident enough to make you cooperate on its terms. I loved every predicament that it put me through! Making someone enjoy a thing they predictably would is admirable, but to think up mechanics that are repelling on paper and make them work in that someone's best interests I call pure brilliance. Every time you have to leave the safe room, you feel the taste of iron in your mouth, lick your lips that suddenly went dry. Thrilled, you tense up, wondering if you have the willpower for the constricting adventure howling in the corridors beyond. Inhale. Clench that shotgun, focus your senses. Turn the knob. Exhale. Run back in because you forgot to put the damn ink ribbons into the box.

My curator Big Bad Mutuh