I’ve become the bully in Elden Ring

polygon.com:

I’ve had it with these jerks.

My first attempt at Elden Ring did not go well. My valiant efforts to chip away at any opponent’s health felt like a toothpick poking a cinder block. Power stancing helped, yes, and hemorrhage weapons got me past my fair share of scraps. But I succeeded by the skin of my teeth. Margit, Godrick, and Grave Warden Duelist were all jerks, and I could feel their joy as they tossed me around their respective arenas. Although I eventually achieved victories, they were slim.

Now, I’ve had six weeks away from the open-world epic. I got as far as beating Rennala before putting the game down to role-play as John Wick in Tiny Tina’s Wonderlands. When I came back to Elden Ring, I restarted completely. I could have respecced with the Queen of the Full Moon’s help, but something about a fresh start seemed more appealing. I wanted to see this world, complete in all of its magisterial beauty, without clenching my teeth at every turn.

I chose to restart as the Vagabond, and nostalgia kicked in immediately, taking me back to the first time I awoke in Dark Souls’ Northern Undead Asylum before finding a sword and shield with which to batter the zombie horde. Elden Ring’s heartiest starting class gave me an early edge in the Vigor department, and its Strength stat (second only to the Warrior class) meant I could pummel foes from the outset. I could also withstand — or at least mitigate — the vast majority of enemy attacks. By the time I had entered the open world, the block, counterattack, stun lock muscle memory had already come rushing back.

I shield-bashed my way across the Weeping Peninsula. I beat the living ass out of Leonine Misbegotten. I one-shot Margit with the help of my Lone Wolf Ashes and my