Seeking Comfort in Dark Souls 2
Memory is fleeting. Memory is fickle. Memory wanes like the changing of the moon and although we may assure ourselves of its solidity, like the tide, it flows freely without our control.
In a year that presented itself with many new challenges and changes, I found myself seeking comfort in the long summer. The comfort of fire. The comfort of home. I sought Majula.
Majula is the hub of Dark Souls II. A cliffside refuge cast in perpetual twilight in which the disparate, lost souls you encounter in the collapsing reality of the kingdom of Drangleic gather. Here, you may find sustenance, refuge and peace from the rigours, treachery and horrors of Drangleic’s many magical locales.
I returned to Dark Souls 2 after many years, picking up where I left off with the same character in the same place I had left them; standing upon the precipice of a cliff overlooking the vastness of the jagged coastline in the same armour that had once been covered in the blood of kings and demons that once barred my path to the Throne of Want that lies at Drangleic’s heart. And so, I dived into New Game Plus.
But not all was as I remembered it…
This world was changed. Enemy locations were shifted. Item locations were different to how I remembered them. The foes I faced were stronger, as expected, but also appeared to use more advanced techniques I hadn’t seen them use before. As I struggled to adapt to this new version of this familiar thing, I began to doubt myself.
“Was I mistaken? Was it this hard the first time? Was that there or…”
In Dark Souls 2, memory is a core theme. The world is collapsing in on itself. Hallways lead to abstract and impossible spaces, as though your character has forgotten how much time has passed. Throughout Drangleic impossible spaces challenge your perception of time, space and memory. But on a new game plus playthrough, these things DO change. Not only does this keep the game fresh, but it challenges your perceptions of it and befuddle you as if it were a new memory. Together, these blend into a single puddle, blurring what was with what is as the ripples travel over the surface.
I sought comfort and found myself lost. And that’s okay, because as my grandmother (an Alzheimer’s sufferer) oft said:
“Memories are just a collage of emotions anyway.”
