As someone familiar with previous works from FromSoftware, I went to Sekiro: Shadows die Twice with (which I believed I was). After all, surely those who have won the Souls series and won the Bloodborne Platinum Trophy will be well prepared for the shinobi adventure of 15th century Japan.
In meeting with the first several enemies, this feeling came true. Whether I was walking on the roof or meeting enemies, Sekiro's movement and special Prosthetic tools made quick work of easy enemies. Their basic spears and melee weapons cannot simply compete with a deadly shuriken, a large recovering ax, or Sekiro's infamous stain. However, some hardworking rivals took me down, followed by a rider on a very large horse and emerged as someone who described an animal that they read in ancient texts. And somewhere where I stumbled across Lady Butterfly. Experience humility, one after the other.
I met but determined, I continued to play. Immediately, the fight clicked. Each piece, foot, and movement had to be intentional. Have I removed their health or dealt with the ongoing Posture damage to move them? Maybe it is a riot as I wear the Prosthetic Tools and various Shinobi technologies to the intense pain. The right use of tools, weapons, and skills has led to victory, while missteps or bad packs can destroy my Posture and, down, I do it again.
This relentless fear of being challenged or an unexpected enemy rider makes every weapon in the game feel deadly. We've all played games that have swords, rifles, swords, laser swords – just about every "gun" or "sword" that might be attached to them – yet in Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice anything on the right edge feels right. And every duel, whether in the dusty wooden temple or the forest blossoming in the fall colors, demanded full attention.
These powerful feelings coincide in the employer’s biggest battles. Anyone who has conquered Genichiro or stood on their feet after “winning” the Guardian Ape should remember the logic-biting bible of each showdown, where momentum can change in any second and victory is quickly a cocktail despite despair. And that guy's last boyfriend. I crawl out of my bed when I manage the last hospital.
If that sounds difficult – that's it! Software dignity is alive and well in Sekiro. As for the feeling of victory, it does seem to go against all odds and withstand the enemies designed to ruin your day, which makes the struggle of descent worth it. I was frustrated. I almost agreed. But the unforgettable moments of victory, imaginative enemies, and the "one-sided effort" of the game keep me back inside.
Without a doubt, Sekiro has come out as one of the most memorable games of the year, which always pushes me down but always gives me ways to lift myself up.
