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

I saw nothing technical to complain about, so let's cut to the chase. I'd play it for the contemplative music and apocalyptic set pieces alone, so naturalistic yet with a pinch of stylisation. Naughty Dog used technological advancements to breathe life into both characters and action. They couldn't have conveyed their vision fully without such an intricate facial animation and nuances. Hell, spit flies out Bill's mouth when he angrily reprimands Joel! Now, that's a great fusion of tech and lore. Swapping weapons, looting, going down the stairs, how Joel puts his hands on a wall when near a cover - the animations cannily flow into one another, pleasing the eye on a primordial level. Some inconsistencies apply, but none are immersion-breaking. Good! Because here immersive storytelling is instrumental in every aspect of design.

Long story short, disgusting parasitic mushrooms started infecting people with mind-controlling spores, turning them into repugnant monstrosities and redecorating the world in their image. I believe that some fungus could undo our whole civilization since I used to live in an place where the black mould's reign just couldn't be stopped. In the cold open, you play as Joel, a daughter's dad who wears nothing but flannel and jeans. After a brief introduction, the outbreak begins and a tragedy strikes during our little family's evacuation attempt. Then we leap into the post-apocalyptic present where a still grieving husk of Joel reluctantly gets an Uber job of delivering Ellie, a young girl immune to the spores, to a hospital on the other end of America. She is humanity's last hope for a vaccine.

It's basically one atypically great escort quest during which you'll bond with Joel and Ellie whom he initially perceives as nothing but cargo. Joel is a private, abrasive man, perfectly playing off Ellie's chill. She sticks to him like glue and doesn't get herself killed for no reason. She's independent, but not in a spoiled way. Not being just a cute object to protect, Ellie can handle herself and her comebacks could make me cry if I ever crossed her path. Joel doesn't want her around the same way I hesitate to adopt a cat. What if I screw up? But it's not all doom and gloom, eventually you'll see cute moments like when Ellie reads a book full of awful puns and they both just stand there cringing. She kept reading and I kept listening. Cringe is addictive, which is why I still have followers.

There's no hivemind overlord in whose heart you could plunge a sword to make things right. The real enemy are human vices and traumas, personified and scattered to avoid becoming grotesque. This whole story is about taking responsibility and letting go of the cynicism that stems from our fear of pain. There's a steep price to pay no matter how you feel. You either go down in crust or man up and allow yourself be vulnerable in a world which doesn't forgive vulnerability. Cynicism is the way of a coward, although, it's difficult to draw the line where compassion becomes indulgence. "Things happen and we move on" is a more convenient option in the world of TLOU. It's alien to our sensibilities, so is its morality. Just do the right thing, they say. Except that thing swings with the weather vane of perception. Here, character interactions portray it genuinely.

You'll mostly meet mad creeps, and even kind people among them are lunatics from our point of view. "It's the normal people who scare me". The ones who find the predicament adequate are the real psychos. People's charm doesn't feel forced, everyone is given development via laconic banter before they either die or betray you. So abruptly, lifelike, with no fanfare. Human interaction in TLOU is fleeting, so you get attached to the main cast. That's why I rooted for Joel until end credits, irrationally so. I thought I knew better, but this game made me doubt myself. Can I possibly tell what's right from across the abyss prostrating between souls? No amount of baggage could ever fill it, but this game's song crosses the gap. There were points when I was close to crying without the sad piano to manipulate my emotions. It kept me in a chokehold.

It's a hard game to put down. I almost cried from the other end a few times. Sure, it's cinematic and slow-paced, but it's still a gamey survival horror that doesn't lag behind its peers. Then again, I'm a simple man! Gimme naturalistic brick vs skull violence and I'm sold. Have you seen that weighty ragdoll? Pure art. It's a game of quick death, yet quicker kills. I replayed half of the encounters just to see if I could kick ass harder. There were few games that pushed me to celebrate virtual violence like that: Manhunt, Max Payne, and The Punisher. Similarly to Frank, Joel is bestial in his chimp-like brutality. His adversaries justly call him crazy, for he would tear off your genitals and eat your face if needs be. Brick by brick, I made my way through the hordes of mutants and humans, playing the game as a beat 'em up until encounters become too massive to go loud comfortably. Turns out, sneaking is also fun!

Helpful sound cues and predictable behavioural patterns alleviate frustration while leaving the room for risk. Armed humans are able to kill Joel in a couple of shots and newly-infected zombies are fast. A Clicker represents the next, sturdier phase of the infection. It can't be killed with bare arms. They don't see or hear you if you move quietly, but sometimes they let out a scanning scream that blows your cover if you get caught in its range. You never feel completely safe. Then goes a bulky Bloater who act as mini-bosses. They charge for an instakill, throw spore grenades... real party poopers. Humans also have aces up their sleeves. They react to noises and sights in a lively manner, then smoke you out of cover and partake in coordinated flanking or try to bargain when things get heated. Expect being ambushed, trapped, chased. But even during serene moments of looting the world blind bodies and booby traps always remind you where you at.

Sadly, I just listed the whole roster, but sometimes less components only solidify a structure. You get your plot going in-between encounters, then get thrown in a semi-open area to fight for your constitutional right to dumpster-dive in peace. In TLOU, rags are the riches used in an emergent crafting system. Got a bat, some tape, and shivs? A makeshift macuahuitl would last you a couple of kills. Found a manual on bombs? Get better ones. Sometimes you find tools for higher-tier gear upgrades: additional quick slots, ammo capacity, reload speed, etc. The guns are fab! Crafting materials needed for certain stuff intersect, introducing tough choices to make on the fly. A constant stream of loot provides your hands with something to do and your mind - with dopamine. It's scientifically precise and realistic in a sense. Easy to reach places don't have much to offer, a damp cellar ridden with infectious spores is where it's at.

It's precious - to forget the melting glaciers of our old world for a few hours, leaving behind our grief for a demented dream that melts with them as we enter someone else's nightmare, so close yet far-out. If the world we build is a mandala at its core, then what is a post-apocalyptic game if not a meditation on its impermanence? There were plenty of extinction events in the history of Earth when 99% of all life perished, but the one portrayed in The Last of Us is humanity's personal apocalypse. The nature thrives, sprawling across the ruins, while humans skitter around like rats in a maze built by their ancestors. This is the world of hurt where you either can handle the pain or sink in despair. Or become some cannibal's sex pig, whichever fate prefers. But it's not your turn yet and it feels good.

My curator Big Bad Mutuh