Oh No, Who Turned Out The Lights In Anor Londo?!

I’ve been playing Dark Souls recently, getting much farther than I ever have before and enjoying myself greatly. Two days ago, after several attempts and a run back to the sewers to farm some rats for Humanity, I finally defeated the infamous Ornstein and Smough (as well as the jackasses that guard the room they hang out in) and was able to proceed into what I’m told is the second half of the game. But first, the finale of the first act: upstairs from Ornstein and Smough is a chamber, golden light overflowing into the hallway outside. On the approach, numerous player-provided warnings of “Chest ahead” were scrawled across every free inch of the floor. Inside, an enormous woman with an enormous bosom reclining on a platform was gazing benevolently at me. Once I drew close, an action appeared: Kneel. © FromSoftware This is Gwynevere, the Princess of Sunlight. She’s here to reward me for all my hard work! You see, I’m the Chosen Undead, and I’m here to collect the Lordvessel so I can usher in a new Age of Fire, or something like that. That’s what everyone keeps telling me, anyway. Gwynevere gives me the vessel and sends me off on my way with gushing praise for my work so far, sweet prayers for my future success, and a soaring triumphant soundtrack to make sure I know I’m a good little Undead doing good work out there in service of the Flame or Sun or whatever. That’s nice, Gwynevere. That’s real nice. So why does this whole room stink to high heaven?! As alluded to above, I have never finished Dark Souls. I’ve absorbed bits of it by cultural osmosis: I know there’s a choice of some sort at the end, I’ve seen clips of some boss fights like Four Kings and Seath the Scaleless. I know that my buddy Solaire is probably going to die and that I can save him, but I’m not 100-percent sure how. But I don’t really know what any of this Sun Princess stuff is about. What I do know is what I’ve learned from playing hours of Elden Ring and Elden Ring: Nightreign, and dabbling in King’s Field 4 and now this game: nothing should be this cheery. There is absolutely no sincere reason in a game like this that a shining woman with ample bosom should be waiting in a room like this to reward me like this is some sort of cartoon Camelot. And what’s with the music, man?! This game is silent except for the overtuned sound effects, Firelink Shrine, and the screaming choruses of boss battles. This entire business reeks, but I don’t know why, nor what to do about it. Which is why I have to thank whichever benevolent adventurer scrawled, amidst all the jokes about boobs on the floor of Gwynevere’s room, “Try attacking.” This single message has demolished me internally for two whole days. I have never once, unprovoked, with murderous intent in my heart, killed an NPC in a FromSoftware game. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of innocent NPCs I’ve killed in games ever (unless you include Everhood, whoops). I tried to start a genocide run in Undertale once and gave up after three battles. I once accidentally whapped the Turtle Pope in Elden Ring on the head and instantly shut off my system and reloaded. I’ll make a morally grey choice once in a while in games, sure, but murder? Out of the question! Which is why it has floored me how much brain space the prospect of murdering this sun goddess lady has taken up lately! Dark Souls is notorious for telling you very, very little about what’s really going on. You’ve got to piece together the lore from context clues, scant dialogue, and item descriptions if you want to understand why people are behaving the way they are behaving, or why you’re in the mess you’re in. I’m not a lore fiend, so while I try to pay attention, I have not dedicated myself in any capacity to understanding what the hell Anor Londo’s whole deal is. I don’t really have good reason, at this stage, to mistrust any of the things anyone’s telling me. I was told to ring some bells to open a path, and that happened when I did. I was told to go collect the Lordvessel, and I did that too. All the people I’ve been instructed to kill so far have, by and large, seemed like pretty effed-up dudes. And everyone who is giving me instructions has been very nice! Benevolent, even, in a world where everything seemed deeply messed up and kindness is in short supply. Heck, Solaire worships the sun, right? Surely the sun princess is fine, then? Right? Agh. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. I stalled. I went back to Undead Asylum and fell through the floor. I got sucked into a painting for a bit, and offered mercy to a lady dressed in white who insisted the inhabitants of her world (who were outside crucifying one another seemingly) were kind and good. But I feel instinctively like some mysterious clock is ticking. I really want to decide whether or not I’m going to do what these guys keep telling me to do before I mosey on out there and start collecting great souls or whatever to feed this Lordvessel thing. I love, love, love when games get into my head like this. I love the uncertainty, the pressure to make a meaningful decision. It helps that I know, from playing Elden Ring, that FromSoftware loves to put players in these sorts of challenging positions, where there is no easy nor obvious “right” thing to do, but where we must live with whatever decision we make anyway. It’s why I’ve elected to learn very little about the rest of the story before I move on. I want to save Solaire, but I don’t want someone else to tell me how. I want to see what Siegmeyer’s up to, but if I can’t manage to find him, that’s my own fault. The game goes on. Perfection is unobtainable. Just like in life. So while I don’t want to “ruin” my game by doing something evil, if I don’t shoot this buxom golden temptress, I won’t get to personally experience whatever twisted consequence Dark Souls has for that choice. Then again, maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’ll shoot her and literally nothing will happen. She’s a god or something, right? Probably immortal? It’s probably fine? Mmmmnnnnnggghhh…aw, screw it. I’m shootin’ her. © FromSoftware © FromSoftware ……..oh hell yeah.