Hollow Knight: Silksong - When 'Git Gud' Means Staring into Your Own Soul (and Maybe Screaming a Bit)
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
Team Cherry's *Hollow Knight: Silksong* is less a game and more an 'unreasonable' odyssey of self-discovery, deliberately defying modern gaming conventions to challenge players into profound self-reflection, even if it means rage-quitting (repeatedly). Its brutal difficulty, stunning world, and artistic integrity make it a standout for those brave enough to look inward, as brilliantly explored in Patricia Hernandez's Polygon review.
Right, so Team Cherry, bless their bloody hearts, has finally dropped *Hollow Knight: Silksong*, and from what I'm hearing (and what I've been tinkering with), it’s not just a game; it’s an existential crisis beautifully rendered in moss and silk. You know that feeling when you cast a spell and it works a bit too well, but not in the way you expected? That’s *Silksong* for a lot of us, apparently – less a straightforward adventure, more a deeply personal, often infuriating, spiritual journey.
I’ve been poring over the early takes, and one piece really hit me, a brilliant review by Patricia Hernandez for Polygon, which basically said *Silksong* broke her, then it got good. And mate, that sums up the vibe perfectly. This isn't just a tough game; it's an 'unreasonable' one, as Hernandez put it. It’s like Team Cherry has become a matador, waving a muleta at an incensed bull – that bull being us, the player base, eager to charge, only to find ourselves gored by our own expectations. Many, like Hernandez, have sunk upwards of 60 hours into this beast, often feeling like giving up. And a significant chunk of that time? Not actually *playing* the game, but more like silently screaming, thumbs raw, scouring the internet for tips, and having a good old chinwag with strangers over the shared misery. Hours spent just trying to convince yourself you *can* do it, followed by wondering if it's even worth doing at all. This kind of self-confrontation, the disbelief and eventual submission, seems to be a core feature, not a bug.
Now, let's talk about the world of Pharloom, because it’s a stunner, even if it is bleak as all get out. Team Cherry routinely defies expectations, and here, they've crafted a Metroidvania roiled in mystery, where you play as Hornet – part insect, part god, dragged into a kingdom haunted by the rather unsettling effects of capitalism. The bugs in the lower caste are grinding endlessly, convinced their toil will grant them ascension to the holy Citadel. Most won't make it, of course, because they’re not meant to. Pharloom is a world that seems to gleefully shred its citizens, binding them into eternal servitude with ethereal silk, turning them hostile when their 'work' is interrupted. It’s a subtle touch, but the IRL parallels are right there, never heavy-handed, just woven into the fabric of the world – like charging you for every single save bench in the supposed land of plenty that is the Citadel. Genius, really. It shows a dedication to atmosphere over convenience that’s both admirable and, frankly, a bit cheeky.
And seven years in the making? You can see every single moment of that love and care plastered across the screen. The mossy overgrowth, the sad drizzle of rain, the golden gleam of cogwork machinery – the aesthetics and sense of place are an evocative powerhouse. The characters themselves, from fleas to arachnids, are endearing creatures trying to survive in a world designed to crush them. There's a flickering ember of hope, even amidst the tragedy, that makes the disorienting maze of *Silksong* bearable, especially when exploration might just net you a poem instead of a shiny new weapon.
Mechanically, Hornet is a kinetic marvel. She might be a demi-god, but she's still a fragile little bugger. Her primary weapon is a needle – think rapier-precision. Coupled with her acrobatic movement, combat becomes a sophisticated gavotte. But here’s where the 'controversial' bits come in: damage accrues quickly, Hornet can take maybe three hits, and enemies seem specifically designed to anticipate your panic moves. Your first impulse? Probably wrong. Dashing *towards* an enemy, not away, is often the answer. It’s a constant dance with death, hands sweating, heart thumping. However, there’s a cunning flipside: Hornet accumulates silk with every attack, allowing for mid-jump heals. This combo of constant close calls and tide-turning palliative measures creates exhilarating moments of pure adrenaline. It’s not just hard; it's a tightrope walk that demands absolute focus.
This is where *Silksong* truly challenges us, eh? It’s deeply in conversation with the Metroidvania and platforming genres, then proceeds to kick them in the shins with verve. The outcry about its difficulty, as Hernandez points out, isn’t just about the challenge; it’s a feeling of betrayal. Team Cherry, knowing full well what fans expect from a modern game – three-round boss staggers, proportionate rewards, feeling empowered, *fun* – breaks that unspoken contract. Most games now offer 'quality of life' design decisions, meticulously crafted to maximise player engagement. *Silksong* just shrugs.
It’ll give you a brutal boss fight that lasts longer than it should, often after a section of onerous platforming you’ll have to repeat *every single time you die*. And you *will* die. For hours. You might finally beat a boss, only for it to blow up, taking you with it, forcing you to do it all over again. "You lost, sucker!" it seems to cackle. Save stations? Only when you’ve explored most of a new area, when they’re least useful, and they’ll charge you for the privilege. It makes demands, then unceremoniously kills you when you thought you were safe. It’s barbaric, honestly.
The closest parallel, as Polygon's review astutely observes, is David Foster Wallace’s *Infinite Jest*. That infamous tome, whose very construction acts as a deterrence, makes you feel lost. It's not about disdain for the reader but a challenge to our notions of what a novel *should* be, encouraging self-reflection. And that, my friends, is how I reckon we should approach *Silksong*'s infamous 'runbacks' – those strips of game you have to traverse before re-engaging a boss. Modern games, even the notoriously difficult *Souls* series, usually plop you right back near the boss. Not *Silksong*. Every single boss has a runback, often as difficult as the boss itself, meaning you might arrive hanging by a thread of health. I've spent an embarrassing amount of time utterly tilted, a total stereotype of an angry gamer, mate.
But is it a worse game for it? If 'good game design' means approachability and convenience, then sure. But somewhere along the line, many of us – myself included – have conflated convenience and comfort with actual quality. *Hollow Knight* started as a Kickstarter passion project, then exploded, selling 15 million copies. The price of that exposure is immense pressure to conform. Team Cherry’s refusal to buckle under that expectation, maintaining such a clear-eyed creative vision, is truly remarkable. For all their grousing, even *Souls* games don't intentionally inconvenience the player quite as much as *Silksong* dares to, which makes *Silksong* feel like the transgressive spiritual successor to those older, cult-darling *Souls* titles.
Ultimately, the less interesting parts of *Silksong* – the upgrade system, the tools, the quest system – never truly make your next hurdle easier. They might open new paths, but what awaits is often a poem or a meager cache of resources. You've got to do it for the love of the game, if you can muster it. And here’s the kicker: this forces an internal reckoning. You die repeatedly, you get angry, you start performing worse. You wonder if you’ll ever beat it. But those runbacks? Do them enough times, and you confront some ugly truths about yourself. Your impatience, your greed, your impulse-driven play. You're doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. Sound familiar?
What seems unfair, eventually, becomes edifying. That exasperating stretch of level becomes second nature. As DFW wrote about tennis, which rings true for *Silksong*: "You seek to vanquish and transcend the limited self whose limits make the game possible in the first place.” It’s tragic, sad, chaotic, and lovely. And in *Silksong*, you'll always find a new horror to vex you. You’ll be discouraged, absolutely. But then, you’ll tap into an unassailable truth: you are capable of more than you realise. And bloody hell, if that isn’t a compelling reason to keep banging your head against a beautiful, silk-bound wall.
Original Source: Polygon's review by Patricia Hernandez.
Tags: Hollow Knight Silksong, Metroidvania, Game Difficulty, Indie Games, Team Cherry
Original article: Polygon