Stephanie Bendixsen: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is the game you’ll love to hate from the Dark Souls developers

All reports on Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is that it’s a triumph and Dark Souls fans are devouring its punishing gameplay. But I barely made it through the first couple of hours before I stormed out in a rage, writes Stephanie Bendixsen.

Why Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is a game you’ll love to hate, says Stephanie Bendixsen.

Why do you play games? It might seem like a silly question — but I think the answer does vary quite a bit from person to person.

For some, it’s escapism, a way to relax, decompress and tune-out from the world. For others, it’s all about being social, playing with a group of mates, working together and chatting about life as you collectively set about a common goal.

Then there’s the set of gamers who seek out challenge and competition — either with other players, or against themselves.

And sure, in this Venn diagram there are gamers that crave each and every one of these experiences.

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Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is “just beautiful”.

Sekiro comes from the same company who developed the punishing Souls series.

Personally, I fall into the ‘escapism’ category, placing single-player action-adventure or Role-playing games at the top of my list.

I want something that’s going to make me feel transported, take me out of the mental clutter of everyday life and feel good.

I also like a bit of social gaming in there too for good measure.

But I’ve never been particularly competitive, nor do I like to be needlessly punished — that’s not why I play games.

To me, it seems odd to deliberately stress yourself out in that way. This rules out a particular set of games for me — and it’s why I’ve barely touched the much-loved Souls series.

If you’re unfamiliar, these are a series of games by Japanese developer FromSoftware — beginning with Demon’s Souls released in 2009, and the most recent Dark Souls III from 2016.

They are visually stunning fantasy role-playing games, which see you venturing out into the unknown utterly stripped of the usual safety nets we rely on as gamers.

Things like being able to pause the game (no, not even to pee — best to just run and pee fast), save regularly, or, you know — hold on to any sense of sanity.

The penalty for death in these games is so great, that every potential misstep could undo hours of hard work.

Sekiro is a visually stunning fantasy role-playing game.

Sekiro has a new feature of being able to resurrect on the spot once after death.

It’s awful. You’ll replay certain sections so many times you’ll want to hurl yourself out of a window in blind frustration.

You’ll learn, gain confidence and think you’re doing well, only to be ambushed, punished and sent all the way back again. Why? For what?

I play games to feel good about myself, but these games fill me with anger and self-loathing.

And yet these games are globally beloved.

Fans cannot get enough of them — because this franchise creates an experience that entirely unique: where most games try to hold your hand and guide you to make your life easier — these games throw you to the wolves.

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What started out as a bit of a ‘cult hit’ has developed into the benchmark of skill and commitment in the gaming community. There is some … unexplainable desire within us that craves validation from this brutal and demoralising rite of passage — a desire dating back to the arcade days.

So, this week, when FromSoftware’s latest title Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice landed in my inbox I was immediately filled with a sense of dread.

I instinctively moved to click past it, but some screenshots popped-up and I felt a pang of regret. It looked … just beautiful.

A feudal Japanese setting, magnificent landscapes, and — being not directly part of the Souls franchise there was the slightest hope rising within me that perhaps this could be a little bit different, less punishing.

‘What the hell’, I say. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And who knows, maybe I’d surprise myself?

A string of angry expletives could be heard from my partner’s office next door — he’d been playing it all week. Not a good sign.

The story in Sekiro is spellbinding.

Sekiro has a feudal Japanese setting and magnificent landscapes.

Upon loading the game, I was spellbound by the story, based in fantastical ninja mythology. The central character, Sekiro — is the personal bodyguard to the kidnapped ‘Divine Heir’, who has magical immortal dragon blood — and Sekiro must rescue him.

Once you acquire your samurai sword you set about the task of fighting your way to the prison tower.

The combat differences between Sekiro and the Souls games are apparent immediately. Where Souls is all about patience, defence and slow, careful fights — Sekiro is much more aggressive.

As well as a traditional health bar, you and your enemies also have ‘posture’ bar to manage — it depletes whenever you block an attack or one of yours is deflected.

You can land a killing blow when either bar is empty, which forces you more into the offensive. Timing your blocks to land a damage-dealing counter is imperative, but the block has to be timed perfectly.

I’m going to be honest, here — I barely made it through the first couple of hours of the game before I stormed out in a rage.

I thought the new feature of being able to resurrect on the spot once after death would be my saving grace, but I died so many times that it barely made a difference.

It feels impossible. There are so many boss fights. Progress is so, incredibly slow and it’s just so hard. Harder even that Souls, I would say — though it would take someone with the skill and patience to get through more of the game to give you their definitive opinion.

All reports on Sekiro is that it’s a triumph for lovers of the genre, and Souls fans are devouring its particular brand of punishing gameplay.

My partner stormed out not long after me in an angry rage, his face like thunder.

I gave him a knowing look. ‘I couldn’t do it’, I said. ‘It’s too much, it makes me too upset’. He was quiet for a moment before his eyes twinkled a little.

‘I love it,’ he replied. ‘I hate it — but I love it. I can’t wait to try again.’