He looks like an absolute tank, with a mighty halberd, shining armour and impressive shield. I head to the pre-boss bonfire, use an Ember, and sure enough, Lapp the Amnesiac is there to be summoned. It’s too heavy for me to use, but by God I love it. Just when I think I couldn’t get any happier, I discover my amazing door weapon.
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Now free from the threat of angelic insta-death (in one area, at least), I’m free to explore. Bolstered by the joy of making a new buddy, I take a proper look around. He asks me to retrieve a ring for him and I get the sneaking sense Lapp might be summonable for the fight with the Demon Prince. Lapp appears again at the second bonfire.
We chat for a bit, then I carry on exploring. He’s a cheerful sort, and I especially like him because he isn’t trying to kill me. There I meet Lapp, the adventurer mentioned earlier by the friendly hag. There’s a tower that topples over when you pass underneath it – I didn’t see it because I was cowering, heroically – and it forms a bridge that leads to another area. I stroll around the level like a spurned teenager kicking around at a bus stop, and discover something I missed earlier.
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Again, I can hear myself whining like a deflating balloon full of farts, but there’s a small voice in my head whispering, “maybe I’m done with Dark Souls.” It’s time to take a break, by which I mean go and kill the things I’m not afraid of. It reminds me of the relentless thuggery of Xbox slice-’em-up Ninja Gaiden – also known as belligerence disguised as challenge – rather than the measured, cerebral test of Dark Souls. The only way I can go is down.īy now, I’m feeling pretty grumpy. Better still, I find another bonfire, hidden suspiciously close to the first one. After a few failed attempts, I hit the jump and find a hidden area, complete with a fleshy, human-shaped node that controls one of the angels. I notice a tempting, twisted tree root beneath a cliff face, which could lead to somewhere useful. I’m close to giving up when I try another route. I try a combination of different armour to up my magic resistance – part poison-resistant Archdeacon, part rotund knight – and I end up looking like an infantry Weeble. The further I get, the harder it becomes. Thankfully, unlike the first Dark Souls, the effects aren’t permanent. At one point I open my inventory while in cover, and miss the fact that one of the angels is cursing me with pixie dust. I spend at least an hour running in circles, cowering behind buildings and sprinting across poison swamps. The truth is that I’m too low a level, and not good enough. It feels cheaper than other Miyazaki games, which is exactly the sort of pitiful whining I scoff at when I see it on Twitter. By the time I reach the area with three - three! - death angels, my patience is ragged.
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