Something that Luke and I often discuss – aside from best sci-fi TV series (Babylon 5, obviously), favorite Doctor (Kenzo Tenma, though Jon Pertwee is an acceptable answer), and why everyone we know is crazy (I blame Monty Python) – is game difficulty. And, more specifically, why I’m wrong for liking difficult games.

Let me back up a bit. Listeners to the podcast may remember a pair of early episodes; (one of which was tragically lost in a server move) one about game difficulty and one about “masocore”* games. In the time since, Luke and I have had a few disagreements, both on- and off-air about whether difficult games are good, and (more importantly) whether difficulty excludes people who might otherwise enjoy a game. And, at the end of the day, we’ve agreed to accept that a) designers should make the games they want to, and b) not all games are for everyone. And while I think that can, and should, be the end of the argument for everyone, the real world is not that simple, and frankly I see a worrisome trend of people saying that games should remove difficulty to be more “accessible”.

I think that, in the long run, this is anathema to video games. And for all people want to talk about inclusivity or fairness or whatever, I think it boils down to this – simple games are, by definition, shallow. Yes, some games, esp. games in the masocore or roguelike genres, can have a tendency to be punishingly difficult, and I can see why they may not be for everyone. And yes, there are some easy games that I enjoy.  But the notion that removing difficulty is inherently lauditory – or that wanting games to remain difficult, even if it means the majority of people never finish some of them, is somehow elitist or exclusive – is absurd on its face and insulting on reflection.

I think Dark Souls is the perfect game to illustrate my point, for several reasons we’ll cover as we go along. First, because I’ve gone on record as saying that, in some ways, I think that game cheats at its difficulty. I don’t think Dark Souls is the be-all, end-all of difficulty. I think many people who hold it as a beacon of that have a… narrower, let’s say, view of game genres. And, there is an element of self-justification in the fact that many of the people who talk about how hard the game is have given up (or self-aggrandizement by those who’ve finished it).

But I also don’t think Dark Souls is the hardest game I’ve ever played.  (Upon significant reflection, I think I’d have to give that to Bennett Foddy’s Athletics (better known as QWOP)). And I also don’t think it’s as “totally fair” as most of its proponents claim. The game yanks your chain, lies to you, and many other things. And while those are interesting, and can be fun, even looking on it from the roguelike “meta-knowledge” sense, it’s hard to argue rationally that “every death feels like it’s your fault.”

However, I also think that while it was poorly phrased, the community reaction of “git gud” is not wholly wrong. It is possible to feel oneself improve in that game, beyond the character’s own improvements by levelling up. And that is, frankly, a meaningful thing. In any other hobby, challenge is considered a worthwhile bar to surpass to get into it. But most also challenge the person throughout – yes, a guitar player can learn 2 songs and stop, but chances are he’s going to eventually want to learn a third, and will again be challenged. Cooking good French cuisine is difficult.  Indeed, even reading this article may be too challenging for some people.  Video games, likewise, challenge players.

I think it’s worthwhile to ask whether you want to devote the time, skill, and energy to surpassing those challenges, and the answer may well be no. And that’s absolutely fine. No one has to. But those who want to make this a form of “gate-keeping” misunderstand who is keeping that gate. I am not the one locking these people out of the hobby. Nor are other players, nor developers. The people who decry difficulty or give up are locking themselves out.

“But,” you say “I have the right to see the end of this game! I paid for it!” You’re right, you did. So watch it on Youtube.

I don’t say this to be exclusionary. I own a Casio keyboard. If I want to hear my keyboard play River’s Theme, I need to learn it, practice it, and then play it anytime I want to hear it. I never have, because I can find it on Spotify. The way people who don’t have that urge to make music do.  The people who have that urge make music, even when it’s hard for them.

And this is why I use Dark Souls as the example. Games that I have not beaten call to me, constantly and inexorably, until I once again pop them in and give them that fair try. They nurture that urge.

Not all of them. Some games are hard the same way cutting each of your fingers off is – it’s purely punishing, and there’s nothing rewarding at the end of it except maybe for the proof you accomplished it. And while I, personally, feel the sweet, siren call of those games at times, I am aware that I am a broken person, and that those games beguile my unique madness.

But games that hold challenge, games you can feel have something you can just about, nearly, allllmooost reach – and more importantly have a thing on the other side of that something that you just want to see – they tantalize, with a reward you can’t help but want to work for.

Perhaps I’ll never see Dark Souls‘ Anor Londo. Perhaps I’ll never know what lies atop Getting Over It’s crazy mountain, or sit on the Nuclear Throne. And perhaps I’ll never land on Duna. But I know that I’ll try, and retry, and continue to try to do these things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard. The simple, easy, challengeless game having long, long since faded in my mind.

*I know some people (such as Giant Bomb’s Dan “Manchild” Ryckert) hate the term “masocore”, esp. the ‘core’ part, but I think it is both descriptive of the tone and broad enough to be used here