The release of Hollow Knight: Silksong on September 4th was a highly anticipated event for countless fans, myself included. Like many, I rushed to digital stores, only to encounter server crashes. Despite the initial hurdles, I successfully downloaded the game onto my Nintendo Switch 2, eager to finally begin.
However, my engagement with the game since then has been minimal.
Weeks after its launch, my progress pales in comparison to that of my friends. While they`re already discussing spoiler-heavy plot points, I`ve only just managed to conquer the Bell Beast, a boss encountered early in the first hour of gameplay.
This pattern isn`t unique; I often acquire popular new titles only to play them briefly before abandoning them. For years, the underlying reason remained elusive. Yet, with Silksong, I pinpointed the core issue: a deep-seated apprehension about playing the game.
My fear isn`t related to the game`s actual content; despite some unsettling visuals in Hollow Knight`s universe, it`s not a horror game. Instead, my anxiety stems from the prospect of getting lost, navigating the complex labyrinths of Pharloom, and facing the constant decisions at branching paths. The dread of not locating the next save point, venturing far from safety, and risking sudden death and the loss of currency, significantly impacts my experience.
This feeling of apprehension is common for me within the Metroidvania genre. I often find myself paralyzed by fear in what I perceive as dead-end areas, leading me to put down the game for prolonged periods. This contrasts sharply with my genuine affection for Metroidvanias; titles like Ori and the Blind Forest and Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown offer immense joy in exploring vast, interconnected maps. The satisfaction of unlocking new abilities, opening previously inaccessible paths, or discovering shortcuts is unparalleled. I even enjoy revisiting older areas, leveraging newfound skills and movement techniques to uncover hidden secrets.
However, my particular playstyle dictates a much slower, more deliberate pace to avoid overwhelming anxiety. The Hollow Knight series, with its expansive worlds and intricate mapping mechanics requiring multiple steps and in-game currency, tends to amplify this unease more than most.
Despite these challenges, my desire to fully explore Pharloom, meticulously chart its every corner, and complete all available activities remains strong. This cautious gaming mindset has cultivated a more patient approach to Silksong, making me comfortable with allowing others to experience and document their discoveries before I fully immerse myself again.
The `patient gamer` community, known for delaying play of popular titles by a year or more, holds principles I find appealing. While I don`t strictly belong, the benefits of waiting – such as bug fixes, balance adjustments, and impending DLC – are compelling. Silksong has already received beneficial updates and more content is planned. For me, however, the availability of comprehensive guides, tips, and walkthroughs is the primary motivator for my measured pace.
My return to the original Hollow Knight was prompted by the looming release of Silksong. I had previously stalled for a year at the Soul Master boss fight. However, with persistent effort and the invaluable assistance of online guides, I overcame the challenge. My recent playthroughs have been far more confident, bolstered by access to interactive maps, a plethora of YouTube tutorials, and extensive community forums.
While some might not consider this the `traditional` way to play Hollow Knight, I assert its validity for any game. My reliance on external resources and observing other players’ experiences doesn`t diminish my engagement; instead, it provides the confidence to develop my own strategies for the game`s challenges.
Team Cherry, like any developer, meticulously designed Hollow Knight and Silksong to elicit specific emotions and behaviors. While I acknowledge arguments that my slow pace and constant consultation of guides might detract from the intended `curated` experience, I still genuinely feel surprise and awe. In essence, I`ve created my own `easy mode` for the game.
For example, during my limited time in Silksong, I once entered a chamber and immediately spotted the notorious mini-boss Skarrgard. Having already encountered discussions about this fight online, I promptly retreated.
This approach mirrors my habit of researching horror films before viewing them to prepare for intense or graphic content. While it might reveal key plot points, it ensures I`m ready for the impact, and I still experience appropriate unease. I can still appreciate the moment within the broader narrative. My interaction with any artistic creation is unique, and even if my Metroidvania engagement deviates from the developer`s original vision, I still derive immense satisfaction from my personalized method.
I respect players who dedicate themselves entirely to new releases, eager to be among the first to uncover every secret and enjoy a completely unspoiled journey. However, for titles like Silksong, that intensely dedicated playstyle isn`t mine, and I believe that`s perfectly acceptable.
Modern gaming often fosters immense pressure to complete titles rapidly, whether from personal drive or the relentless influx of new releases. Amidst this constant stream of new games, it`s crucial to remember that your engagement pace is entirely personal. While there`s a certain thrill in being an early adopter and sharing discoveries, collective excitement shouldn`t dictate how you play or spend your gaming time.
Eventually, I will undoubtedly return to the depths of Silksong, though with my self-imposed guidelines. Regardless of your chosen approach to games like Hollow Knight: Silksong, remember they`ll always be available, and you have every right to experience and complete them on your own terms.