Much like my hunter, I first heard of Yharnham through its reputation. Through tales woven by those either mystified or horror struck by the events that took place within that once grand city. More often than not, however, it was some intriguingly bizarre mixture of both. Also like my hunter, I arrived in Yharnam late--just past its glory days and just before the birth of something new. Fortunately for me, that something new was not eldritch horrors, but rather the next entry in developer From Software's long line of Soulsborne titles: Elden Ring.
Despite Elden Ring's launch looming when I began Bloodborne back in January--or perhaps because of it--I decided the Lovecraftian land of blood loss and horrifying behemoths would be my introduction to the studio's games. It was my hope that, through patience and keen observation, I could gnaw through the somewhat unapproachable and highly inaccessible game to reach its marrow. That, like so many before me, I could find virtue and meaning in a game filled with virtueless people resigned to meaninglessness.
I was, admittedly, anxious, nervous, and every other kind of -ous possible about playing a game renowned for its difficulty, and so I soon realized the best way for me to learn was not to repeatedly throw myself up against walls and into the maws of demonic beasts. Instead, I decided to seek out a bit of guidance. Now, being a woman who plays games, I'll admit there's a strong reluctance to accept help when it comes to video games burrowed deep within me. I'm no expert, but I largely suspect this defiance might have something to do with being told from a very young age that I'd just never be as good at games as my masculine counterparts.
All that said, the first challenge I
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