Dominance and Dark Souls

Last time, on Drifting Through Dark Souls, we had a pretty easy time making it through this doomed city.  And then we died.  But we’re not going to let a silly thing like that keep us down, are we?

As always, we press on.  Heading back towards the large building in which we died.  At least at first.  I spot something shiny on the way there.  I love shinies.  I jump off the path I’m on, onto a roof, and pick up some souls from the corpse.  Once I’m there, I realize I have no idea how to get back onto the walkway I was on.

Luckily, there’s a path leading out from this roof.  I take it, and it leads me into a decently-sized room, with a sorceress inside.  I get my shield up in time to intercept the dark bolt she fires at me, then charge her down before she can ready another.  The room has another path leading out of it, and a staircase downwards.  I take the other path first.

I reach the end of it.  There’s nothing on this path save for this note.  Yet judging the symbol and lack of a rating, this was not a note left by any other player.  It’s here for a reason.  Somehow, I don’t think hurling a fireball is what it means.  I don’t have the spell for casting light prepped, either.  I take a quick look through my inventory, trying to see if I have anything that could light things up.  And hey!  That looks perf… oh no.

The Sunlight Maggot.  That same thing Solaire was wearing when he went mad.

Man.  Do I want to do this?  Judging from the spells Dusk and Elizabeth had, Oolacile was big on, or at least had prominent lines of, illusion magic.  I could totally see them hiding something here that could only be revealed by shining light on it.  Maybe something important.  You don’t hide your garbage with the arcane powers of the soul, after all.  But if this is what snapped Solaire, I don’t know if I want to deal with it.  I don’t even know why I’ve been carrying the maggot around in the first place.  The whole thought of it disgusts me.

But maybe there’s something shiny.

As soon as I put the maggot on, a section of the wall disappears, revealing a chest in the corner of the room.  I don’t feel any more hollow for wearing the maggot.  Maybe this was just a symptom, rather than the cause for Solaire’s madness.  Or maybe I’m hollow enough already.  I try not to think about it.  Rather, I take off the maggot as soon as the opening appears, then scramble inside for the chest.  There’s only one thing inside, an amulet showing a familiar symbol.

Artorias’s pendant, and ancient treasure from the glory days of Anor Londo, said to be able to repel the Abyss.  Perhaps he left it here hoping it’d prevent the Abyss from completely consuming Oolacile?  If so, it’s not doing a very good job.  Important indeed.  And shiny.  In any case, it’s clear this sector is done.  What hasn’t already fallen to the Abyss has been overtaken by the bloatheads, with every living thing here either dying or joining the enemy forces.  For that matter, I hadn’t seen a single sane person since I left Ciaran.  I slip it into my pouch.  I think I’ll be able to put it to better use shoving it straight into Manus’s heart than it’ll see being left here.

Distractions of Dark Souls

Last time, on Adventures in Oolacile, we had a cliffhanger.  The first in this entire series, I think.  What the hell, Aether?  Weren’t you just complaining about those?  You hack.  Fix it.  Fix it now.

Well, if you insist.

If you’ll recall, we ended things last time with me tromping through a forest then passing through a fog gate.  On the other side of that gate we find a cutscene.  You know what that means.  That means it’s boss time.

And here’s our opponent.  Look at him.  All bobbly and spindly and totally smaller than me.  And here I thought the DLC was supposed to be hard!  I could totally take this guy.  I could totally take like, 20 of this guy.  I could…

My reflections on how awesome I am in comparison are interrupted as someone else jumps in and totally takes that guy.

Dude lifts his sword a bit, then stabs the guy again for good measure.

Then he seems to notice me.  Dark energies begin gathering around him.

I’m… not entirely sure I can totally take this guy.

Dude roars at me, strikes this pose, then hurls the impaled corpse of that guy right at me.

The corpse doesn’t quite clear the distance, it skids to my feet, but the meaning is clear.  And aww, man, Artorias?!  We were supposed to be buds!  I’d impress you with my awesome swordwork, we’d bro out and save the princess, and then be generally cool guys together until I had to return to my time!

Depression and Dark Souls

Last time in Dirty Deeds Done Dark Souls, we pretty much became a killer for hire.  Oh sure, it may have been a wicked mercy, and it may have been for the fate of the world and all that best chosen one business, but the fact remains that I killed both two of the Izalith family members as well as the twisted, misshapen Witch of Izalith herself just because my lady of the flame asked me too.  It was a dirty deed, but one that needed to be done, but, I hope, one that bought them all some measure of long-deserved peace.

Also, I slew the well from which all my  wicked inferno magic is drawn!  I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I?

Eh.  Have to joke.  Have to try and keep the spirits up.  Humor’s most important in the darkest hour, right?  Truth is, I’m just about at the lowest point I’ve been in since I left the Undead Asylum.  Laurentius of Great Swamp went hollow and died by my hand long ago.  Solaire of Astora, I’m not sure whether he went truly hollow rather than just being driven generically mad, but either way, he lost his will, then lost his mind.  Siegmeyer of Catarina, well, I’m not entirely sure what happened.  He seemed depressed, over his lack of success, over the amount of times I bailed him out, whatever, but I don’t think he was ever expecting to survive his charge against those demons.  And even as far back as the beginning of my journey, that knight that opened the way to my escape from the Asylum in the first place, before again, going hollow and dying by my blade.

Oh, Geezer Zeus, I’m going to have to tell Siegmeyer’s daughter.

And all the while I roam this blasted land where anyone normal seems to have perished years ago, in this dying world, working on the vague promises of that stupid snake whose words coming out of his mouth is worth no more than the dung pies I’ve shoved in, and that bloated goddess, who for all her divinity has done absolutely nothing that a simple box couldn’t have.  I’m the Chosen One, I’m the one who’s supposed to link the fire, cure the undead plague, renew the world, and succeed a god, and yet I’m the only one who actually does anything towards that goal.  Frampt, the Lords, anyone else who ruled in this land?  They’ve all either vanished, twisted themselves into uselessness in ages past or are actively making Lordran worse, now.  And what does succeeding Gwyn even mean?  I am already immortal and monstrously powerful.  What more can becoming a god gain me?  In pursuit of that, I have killed so many people, some of whom deserve it, but what good has come out of it?  Whose lives are better for my actions?  Sure, some of those I killed played some part in how screwed up Lordran’s gotten, but I feel like even with their deaths, I’ve only just put a bandage on a mortal wound.   I’ve got promises that by fulfilling my station as the Chosen Undead, I can at least purge the undead curse and bring life, true life, back to this world, but most of that comes from sources I know aren’t telling me the whole story.

Yet even so, I know I’m going to stay the course.  I have to.  If I stop, I know I’m going hollow.  The knight at the Asylum lost his mission.  Solaire got discouraged.  Siegmeyer seemed to have given up.  And they are all no more.  That will not happen to me.  I need to keep moving forward.  And I have no other direction than the quest of the Chosen Undead.  And you know what?  I’m starting to find myself not caring about killing these people for their souls.  The holder of the Lord Souls have all needed a good killing thus far.  For all I know, Nito might be the same.  And even if he hasn’t gone full-blown malevolent, at the very least, he’s done nothing about Lordran falling so hard to the darksign.  I’m sure I can make much better use of his Lord Soul than he is.

Still, even the most epic of quests could do with a break now and again.  And I really need something to feel good about right now.  And honestly, I could do with someone to talk to.  My best friend just tried to kill me, I watched another friend die, and the pressure of being chosen are getting to me.  Even the strongest of warriors need a shoulder to lean on, and I am getting to that point.  I head first to Quelana.  I don’t expect much empathy from her, but I at least need to let her know the deed is done.

She, at least, is happy that her family’s been released from their twisted, chaotic forms.  Well, except for the Daughter of Chaos, the waifish, spidery, fire-keeper.  As dire as her situation is, she at least seems to have retained something of her self.

You know, that’s a big expression of endearment from her.

She teaches me the Fire Tempest pyromancy.  I’ll have to try that out sometime.  She calls out to me as I’m leaving.

Well, I seem to have helped her out at least.  Now, I just need to keep this up for, oh, the rest of the still-living world?

While I’m in the area, I pick up the treasures left behind in the Demon Ruin’s magma, the ones that were by that pack of Taurus Demons.  There’s a bunch of souls on one, and a Chaos Ember on the other.  I take it to Andrei, who reports that he can’t do anything with it.  The Giant Blacksmith has no interest in it either.  And Rickert, as he proudly claims, doesn’t deal in embers.  I hold onto it for now.

It’s starting to occur to me that I could do with an upgrade in equipment.  I love this Black Knight Sword.  It has been my most constant companion in the Chosen One quest.  I would marry this sword if I could.  The nuptials… would be awkward.  But even so, I’ve upgraded it as much as I can, and I’m not going to be getting much stronger than I am now.  My damage output with this blade has peaked, and while still considerable, I’m worried it may not be enough for some of the future challenges facing me.  I’m not in a hurry to replace it, but I am going to be keeping my eye out for a new weapon.  Maybe I’ll learn to love it as much as I love this one.

In the meantime, my mind drifts to one other person who I’m pretty sure would do me good to talk to.  Someone who I’ve unequivocally saved.  Someone who’s not completely steeped in the despair that pervades those under the undead blight.  And perhaps most importantly, someone who hasn’t yet rejected my requests for a date.  Dusk of Oolacile.  The lady trapped for untold ages in the body of the golden golem, before I rescued her and she used her magic to return to the past.  She left me a summon sign, to speak with her again.  And if ever I needed it, it’s now.  I venture back to the lake at the Darkroot Basin.