I had an idea of what I was getting myself into when I started playing Dark Souls last month. Over the past few years, the legend of Dark Souls — and its predecessor Demon’s Souls — has trembled the landscape of the video game world, its amplitude heightened with every terrifying anecdote. The game is supposed to be difficult, unforgiving, and punishing. But it is also supposed to be rewarding, in a way that few other games match. Being relatively terrible at video games involving skill, I had no intention of attempting either of the Souls games. It just wouldn't be fun. But when my friend Ben gifted it to me on Steam, I was trapped. I had to try it.

After delaying for several months, I finally got around to booting up Dark Souls in January. The game starts you out in a filthy prison, with undead soldiers slouching around. It’s grim from the beginning. Set in some sort of fantasy universe, Dark Souls is about your character recovering lost souls from these undead enemies. I think? I’m not actually too sure. To me, the game is about surviving. There are checkpoints — bonfires — in the game, and when you die you return to the last bonfire at which you rested. All of your souls — the game’s currency — are left at your dead body, and so you have to travel back to where you died to recover them. If you don’t, they’re gone for good. The task of inching from one checkpoint to the next without dying is no easy feat. Actually, it’s gruelling.

Every time I die, I’m incredibly disheartened because it feels like I’m so far away from the previous bonfire. But then I set out to recover my souls from my dead body, and realize just how little “progress” I had made. I say “progress” because the only real progress is when you make it to the next bonfire. Every time you die, the enemies come back alive.

This is what happens when I play Dark Souls: I stay alive for 5 minutes. I die. I respawn at the bonfire I was at. I stay alive for 6 minutes. I die. I respawn. I stay alive for 3 minutes. I die. I respawn. I stay alive for 3 minutes. (Repeat x3) Then finally, miraculously, I make it to the next bonfire. Then I save and quit, and turn off my computer.

Why do people love it so much? I’m not entirely sure. It’s certainly challenging. People love a good challenge. I’m also told it’s fair. The game operates on a strict set of rules, such that it’ll never dole out cheap deaths. Every time you die, it’s because you made a mistake. So I’m told. Not sure if it was my fault when an archer shot an arrow at me that went through his buddy’s torso without hurting him, but then into mine causing a fatal blow.

I never feel like booting up Dark Souls. At least a week separates instances when I play the game. I never want to play it. I’m not having fun with the game.

Well, that was true up until last night.

Last night started like any other Dark Souls session. I booted it up. I stayed alive for 5 minutes. I died. Et cetera et cetera. I kept replaying the same segment over and over, dying each time. I was dying in different spots. First the giant rats were killing me. Then I got past the giant rats, but couldn’t get past the two guys at the gate, one with a spear and one with a sword and shield. Then I figured out how to beat them, but kept dying at the hands of more advanced swordsmen, who were ambushing me in tight corridors. But then I got careless on the way to these advanced swordsmen, and got killed by the giant rats again. And over and over this happened. There was a giant armoured boar right after the two guys at the gate who wouldn’t attack me unless provoked. Every time I made it that far, I didn’t dare venture near it.

I was starting not to care. The game was wearing me down. This would be my last attempt for the night, I told myself. If I didn’t make it to the next bonfire on this life, then I’d quit the game and try another day. If I died on this attempt, it’d be a Dark Souls session of zero progress.

I made it past the rats. I made it past the two guys at the gate. I was about to routinely sneak past the armoured boar when the irresponsible thought of trying to defeat it crossed my mind. This thing was probably four times my size, and its armour looked impenetrable. But why fear death when you’ve just experienced it 15 times in the past hour? I tossed a firebomb at it. I missed and it hit a pillar in front of me. Ok I tossed another one, this one hitting the boar. The pig charged at me. I hid beneath the arches of a building, where the path was too narrow for it to reach me. After a while it lost interest and walked away. I whacked it from behind. It turned around and charged back at me. I hid. I repeated this one more time. This time, when it walked away, it got stuck behind a wall. The walking animation kept running, but the pig didn’t move. I whacked it. The animation kept playing, but the pig didn’t turn around or move. Sweet. I put my shield away, gripped my sword with two hands, and hacked away. The Dark Souls gods had blessed me with a glitch. And when the game hands you a gift, you better take it. I defeated the pig!

For my victory, the game awarded me with a helm, seemingly made from the skull of the pig. I put it on. Wow what an incredible feeling. It’s odd to describe an emotion derived from playing a video game as primal, but wearing that helm had me full of good feelings. Confidence was exploding out of me. The frustration I felt just three minutes ago had vanished. I deftly handled the rest of the enemies, and soon found myself at the next bonfire I had failed so miserably to reach for the past hour.

(title image here, so you can see my helm in all its glory)

It was weird, because I hadn’t really defeated the boar with any ounce of skill. I got lucky. But it felt amazing. Still, it was late, so I saved and quit. I felt like I had enjoyed my time with the game that night, even though 95% of it was spent in misery. And there is still a long ways to go in my journey. I’ve probably only dipped my toes into the game. But for the first time ever, I’m looking forward to playing more Dark Souls.

I might even play some tonight.