Silksong First? Why Skipping Hollow Knight Might Just Be Your Next Genius Move

AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·

Silksong First? Why Skipping Hollow Knight Might Just Be Your Next Genius Move

This article explores the controversial idea that playing *Hollow Knight: Silksong* first, without having touched the original *Hollow Knight*, might actually enhance the experience, thanks to fresh mechanics and narrative mystique.

Right, so here’s a thought that might make some purists spit out their digital tea: What if the 'sacred rule' of playing the prequel first is, well, a load of old pixellated rubbish? I’ve been tinkering with this idea all morning, sparked by a rather cheeky observation, and bloody hell, it’s wilder than it first appeared.

Traditionally, 'Big Gaming' (you know, the shadowy cabal that tells us how to play) insists you must, absolutely *must*, experience Game A before daring to touch Game B, especially when Game B is a direct sequel. We’re talking 'sequel syndrome' here, where skipping ahead is practically a digital sin. But what if, just maybe, following that rule actually *hinders* your enjoyment? What if a fresh perspective is actually a superpower?

That’s the exact premise, mate, of a fascinating take I stumbled upon recently over at Polygon, where one intrepid soul, Ari Notis, boldly declared they’d bounced off the original *Hollow Knight* like a rubber ball off a brick wall, but still dove headfirst into *Silksong* on release day. And get this: they’re convinced they made the *right* choice. Now, that’s the kind of chaotic-good energy I can get behind. It raises a proper wizardly question, doesn't it? Not 'Can you play *Silksong* without playing *Hollow Knight*?' (Spoiler: Yes, obviously, the game isn't going to self-destruct). But ' *Should* you play *Silksong* before *Hollow Knight*?' That’s where the real magic happens.

Now, *Hollow Knight: Silksong*, Team Cherry's long-awaited follow-up to their beloved 2017 Metroidvania masterpiece, finally broke cover after a legendary six-year hype cycle. We're talking 'eldritch prophecy finally coming true' levels of anticipation. With a launch date of September 4th, many gamers (and a fair few of my own colleagues, bless 'em) dutifully dusted off or fired up the original *Hollow Knight* for a refresher course. Our Polygon rebel, however? Nah, too busy with a GOTY contender (Metal Eden, apparently – keeping my eye on that one). And you know what? That decision, against all conventional wisdom, appears to have paid off in spades.

Let’s talk mechanics, because this is where the plot thickens faster than a cauldron of mystery stew. In the original *Hollow Knight*, the downward slash is simple, effective, and does exactly what it says on the tin: straight down. Intuitive, right? But *Silksong*, at least in its opening hours, throws a curveball. The downward slash sends you plunging towards the ground at a rather jaunty 45-degree angle. Now, if you’re a veteran of the first game, those weeks (or years!) of muscle memory are going to trip you up. You’ll be flailing about, expecting a vertical plummet, only to find yourself veering off course like a spell gone wrong. It's like trying to cast a fireball and getting a glitter bomb instead – harmless, but deeply confusing. But if, like our adventurous test subject, you’ve skipped the original? "Down = diagonal for some reason" is just... the way *Silksong* *is*. There’s no muscle memory to overwrite, no ingrained habit to break. It’s just how Hornet rolls. Fair dinkum, that’s a clever bit of accidental game design, isn't it?

And it’s not just the combat. *Silksong* seems to have polished up a few other facets for the better. The original *Hollow Knight* was famously, wonderfully, brutally opaque. Players would hit the Steam forums asking, 'So... what's my objective, exactly?' It was part of its charm, no doubt, but not exactly 'respectful of your time' in the modern sense. *Silksong*, on the other hand, gives you a clear goal from the get-go: 'Go to the Citadel.' No messing about. Don't know what this 'Citadel' is? Neither do I, mate, but at least I know *where* I'm supposed to be going. That’s a lovely, unambiguous direction that lets you get stuck into the game rather than just stuck.

Now, narratively, things get a bit more... foggy. But in a good way, I reckon. Our protagonist, Hornet, is a political prisoner, carted off to some faraway land, trying to figure out *why* she’s locked up. Beyond that? A glorious, beautiful mystery. What sort of bugpocalypse happened here? Why do these bugs never clean up their skeletons? How deep are the religious undertones going to get? And seriously, why is the music for this 'little' game so bloody good? The point is, not knowing the answers from the get-go isn't a detriment. It’s a vibe. It’s mystique. It’s effectively recreating that initial level of intrigue that made the predecessor such a phenomenon in the first place.

Sure, some of those narrative questions might be answered by playing *Hollow Knight* (or, let's be real, a quick dip into its Wikipedia page). But our intrepid explorer argues that the mystique *is* the point. By approaching *Silksong* with fresh eyes, you’re essentially embarking on a brand new, self-contained adventure, allowing the world to unfurl its secrets on its own terms, unburdened by prior knowledge. It’s like discovering an ancient ruin without having read the tourist brochure first – far more exciting, far more personal.

So, yeah, you *can* play *Silksong* without having played *Hollow Knight*. But should you? Based on this rather compelling anecdotal evidence, I’d actually recommend it. Worst case, you can treat *Silksong* like *A New Hope* and go back to *Hollow Knight* as your *Phantom Menace*. We all know which one of those is the better starting point, don't we? It’s a cheeky, experimental approach, but in a world of gaming sequels that often demand homework, sometimes blowing a hole through reality and just seeing what happens is the most rewarding path of all.

Tags: Metroidvania, Sequels, Gaming Opinion, Team Cherry, Hollow Knight

Original article: Polygon