On September 4, I was one of the many eager Hollow Knight fans who hastily opened up every gaming storefront to experience the moment when the ludicrously long wait for Hollow Knight: Silksong finally ended. Like everyone else, I experienced the crashing of these storefronts, but eventually, to my delight, I managed to install Silksong on my Nintendo Switch 2.
I’ve barely touched the game since.
More than three weeks after its noteworthy launch, my progress in the game is significantly behind that of my friends and peers. Some have already rolled credits, and lengthy, spoiler-tagged conversations about Silksong on Discord read like classified CIA documents. Meanwhile, I’ve only just defeated the Bell Beast, an important but fairly early boss that you encounter in the story’s first hour.
It’s a common occurrence for me to download the newest, hottest video game, only to briefly tinker around with it before moving on to something else. Over the years, it’s been challenging to pinpoint why this is. And while there’s surely a number of different factors that contribute to this, I eventually realized what was behind this block with Silksong: I’m afraid to play it.
I’m not scared of the game itself or its content–while there are some gnarly and unsettling sights in the world of Hollow Knight, it’s not a particularly scary game. Rather, I’m afraid of getting lost. I’m afraid of the uncertainties ahead as I progress through the labyrinths of Pharloom and the indecision that comes with each split path. I’m afraid of not knowing where the next bench will be as I stray farther away from a safe haven–as the probability of dying suddenly and losing my rosaries increases.
This is a phenomenon I often experience with metroidvanias–one in which fear and apprehension overcome logic as I reach areas that I perceive to be dead ends, leading me to abandon that playthrough for an extended period. Yet, this all seems to contradict the fact that the metroidvania is one of my favorite genres of video games. From Ori and the Blind Forest to Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown, I revel in the opportunity to explore a sprawling yet intricately designed map. There are very few moments in gaming that can rival the gratification of unlocking a power-up that opens up new doors, or finding a shortcut that makes exploration much easier. I actually quite enjoy backtracking, especially as you gain more abilities and skills, and appreciate any game where I can revisit older areas with a fresh perspective and spiffy new movement techniques.
But for my weird and special brain, all of this has to be done at a certain, slower pace, lest I overwhelm myself with the aforementioned anxieties. And for better or worse, both Hollow Knight games are the biggest culprits of evoking that uneasiness because of the vastness of their worlds, and the multi-step processes (and currency) necessary to create functional maps that assist in your exploration.
Even so, I still desire to explore every corner of Pharloom, expand my map by documenting every nook and cranny, and squeeze out as many activities as I can. My cautious approach to gaming has led me to a more patient approach to this game–one where I feel content to let others enjoy it and document their findings and thoughts before I plunge back into the depths.
There’s an entire online community of “patient gamers,” or people who wait at least a full year to play popular titles. While I don’t count myself as a member of this community, I do like a few of its tenets. The promises of bug fixes, balance changes, and DLC releases are good reasons to wait on any game–Silksong has already seen meaningful changes to make for a better experience, with new content also on the way. But it’s the prospect of having more documentation, tips, and walkthroughs available that motivates me to play Silksong at a slower pace.
After sitting on the original Hollow Knight for a long time, I aggressively got back into the game once it became clear that a Silksong release date was imminent. I had abandoned it about a year ago when I was stuck on the Soul Master boss fight, but through numerous attempts–and the help of YouTube guides–I finally defeated it and was able to move on. And I’ve felt a lot more confident and empowered during my more recent Hollow Knight exploits thanks to having interactive maps, endless YouTube tutorial videos, and countless forums at my disposal.
Perhaps it’s not the “correct” way to play Hollow Knight, but I believe it’s a valid approach to it–or any game, for that matter. Yes, I am more dependent on external help and watching the experiences of other players, but I am still fully engaging with the game itself and using that knowledge to gain the confidence to figure out my own approaches to what Hollow Knight throws at me.
Developer Team Cherry, as with any studio and its games, crafted Hollow Knight and Silksong in a deliberate manner to invoke certain feelings and behavior as you play. I understand arguments that taking my time and constantly checking maps and videos to ensure I’m on the right track detract from the curated experience, but I still feel that surprise and awe. The way I see it, I’m playing the game on an easy mode that I’ve made myself.
For instance, in the little time I’ve played Silksong, I walked into a room only to see that the infamous mini-boss Skarrgard was at the other end–and having spoiled myself by reading discourse on that encounter, I noped the heck out of that room.
I liken it to how I research horror movies before watching them in theaters to make sure I’m prepared for any intense or gory scenes. Yes, it might spoil a pivotal moment for Weapons, but it also ensures that I’m ready for the shock–and I still find myself appropriately uneasy during the moment. I can still appreciate it in the context of the rest of the story. My experience with a piece of art, no matter how it was crafted, is unique to me, and although I might engage with a metroidvania differently than intended, I still get the satisfaction I need from it through my own approach.
I admire anyone devoted enough to a new release that they skip work and dive into the rabbit hole, eager to be one of the first players ever to discover its secrets and have a complete, unspoiled experience. For games like Silksong, that isn’t me, and I think that’s okay.
In recent times, we feel so much pressure to finish games as quickly as possible, whether it’s due to internal pressure or the looming, impending release of the Next Big Game in a packed and relentless release schedule. Amid that tidal wave of new games, it’s important to remember that it’s solely your own choice on when and how to engage with them. There may be some joy in getting through the door first and comparing notes with everyone else as they all delve into the unknown, but that collective hype doesn’t have to dictate your playing (or spending) habits.
One day, sooner or later, I’ll get back into that Silksong rabbit hole myself, albeit with some guard rails. No matter how you choose to play a game like Hollow Knight: Silksong, just remember that they’re always there, and you deserve to play and finish them exactly the way you want to.
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