I should have behaved better. But I didn’t, and here I am.
A Dark One named Timi sat at a holy site within the Eternal City of Nocron. In this cavernous place, like all the others he had passed through to get here, he had all the power a warrior could have. But right now, none of that power was of any use to him.
The supreme demi-god among demigods – like Kurt Russell losing an eye and suffering the kind of frostbite that only comes from playing a naked snow angel in the Arctic – looked sadly at the trusty medallion he had just removed. Unbeknownst to him, the forces of slander and ridicule had transformed that medallion into one that made him completely invincible. So far, that medallion had helped him defeat Raynare, Godric, and the mighty Rodan in one fell swoop.
This medal allowed him to travel freely “between the two places”, often covered in blood but never with a single scar – this was an open defiance of God, public opinion, and, most shockingly, of Hidetaka Miyazaki.
He threw it away.
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Immediately, he saw his life bar evaporate from the great lake into a small puddle, for in his excitement of flying close to the sun of ultimate power, he had completely forgotten to put points into vitality. His body began to collapse under the heavy burden of the equipment, which was the equivalent of a lead coffin for those without infinite capacity.
Without this badge, he’s just a man. A man forced to strip naked and search his inventory for armor that won’t shatter his glass spine in two.
He assembled some improvised clothing and weakly made his way out of his walled shelter, across a dreary stone courtyard under the cold, distant light of the stars, taking his first steps toward a new life. As he wandered, carefully avoiding the few enemies that stood between him and his goal, he remembered how easy things had been so far.
The words of Hayao Miyazaki echoed in his mind, a tireless advocate of heroic struggle. “If we really wanted the whole world to play this game, we could keep lowering the difficulty. But this is not the right way to go,” the voice said. “If we took this approach, I don’t think the game would be as successful as it is now, because the sense of achievement that players get from overcoming these obstacles is a fundamental part of the gaming experience. Lowering the difficulty would take away from the fun of the game – in my opinion, it would ruin the game itself.”
As The Tarnished reached the lair where the boss awaited him, he pondered what his own chagrin—what the game itself repeatedly called “inappropriate behavior”—had meant for bringing him into this fight. He peered into the mist, wondering if he had thrown away his only chance to truly appreciate something great for reasons both pathetic and foolish.
He concluded that he might have done it. But in some perverse and illogical way, the sacrifice was still worth it, because it led to this. He passed through the barrier.
Inside, he was greeted by the demonic creature that had forced him to give up, abandon t he rune, and teleport away minutes ago…with a face that looked a bit like Kurt Russell with frostbite. This time, it wasn’t unkillable. But neither would Timmy. The pair of mirrored useless constructs—one piloted by a computer that knew what it was doing, the other by a human who clearly had no idea what he was doing—clashed in front of a group of indifferent stone pillars.
Timmy fought hard and pushed his opponent to the brink of defeat. Then, for the first time (not falling from a great height), he died.
His soul sneaked back to the Graceland of Nocron, humiliated and hopeless. He knew he couldn’t give up so easily, so he tinkered with his gear, swapping out the flame-based War Ashes for bloodshed-based ones, just as his comrades suggested – they were actually good at boss fights and had the personality needed for the fight. He farmed some runes, actually investing some points into Vitality.
And then he tried again. And again. Each time he got a little closer, even though he’d panicked and tried to use the memories of Star Scourge only to fail completely and utterly in incredibly stupid ways. He was going through the process. But despite his best efforts, he wasn’t enjoying it. He felt like he was banging his head against a wall, and he didn’t think Adrenaline Rush When he finally defeats his enemy, everything he will get will be worth it.
He’d tried to find some fun in his life as a virtual flagellant, but the dervish life held no appeal for him. He saw the vision, and he understood why others loved it so much. It just wasn’t for him. And that was okay. He’d been quietly enjoying this twisted, imperfect version of Elden Ring. The only problem was that the world’s most useless unstoppable force had now met an immovable object.
But there was one last ray of hope. One last trick. Timmy went back to watch the Mimic Tear once more. Just before he passed through the mist, he dropped his weapons, removing his sword and shield. As soon as he emerged on the other side, his doppelganger rushed at him, swinging his fists.
Timmy stayed afloat as the waves gently crashed over him, re-equipping his sword. He almost felt bad for doing this. Almost.
As Timmy sat in the new Grace location he had just activated, re-equipping his charged medallion and becoming invincible once again, he heard Miyazaki say a few more words in his head. “I think if I could find a way to control the game, I could make it anything I want. The best part is, if my idea fails, no one will care – it’s already failed.”
This loser thinks he should try to get better at FromSoft games, but just doesn’t want to, so he stands up.
It hits its stride, taking deeper and deeper control of this game and turning it into what it wants it to be, allowing it to enjoy and appreciate the other great efforts that went into creating this experience, and know that it’s not the end of the world in doing so.
If you want to try Timmy’s Medal of Immortality for yourself, check out this model, you cheater.
