“We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes have yet to open… Fear the Old Blood.”
Bloodborne celebrates its seventh birthday today. FromSoftware’s bona fide masterpiece remains a dark, unsettling, and beautifully gothic epic that isn’t afraid to break our hearts while dragging us further and further into the depths of depravity. Exploring the twisted land of Yharnam remains a melancholic triumph, one defined by its immaculate world building and characters who linger in the mind long after you’ve stopped playing. All these years later there is still nothing else like it, as if Hidetaka Miyazaki was able to produce something that even his own work still can’t measure up to.
Many will be quick to label Elden Ring as the height of the Soulsborne formula, and in a lot of ways it is, but there’s a brilliance to Bloodborne that still outshines it. The focused, almost labyrinthine design of its environments instil a sense of permanent paranoia, encouraging us to explore even if the next corner could spell our doom. Yet even when we meet defeat, the opportunity to rise again and continue the hunt is always there, a mechanic that is thematically reinforced by a game that is always encouraging you to fight harder and stronger against all those who stand in your way. Fountains of crimson will stain your black leather hunting garb, a mark of success as a steady stream of corpses piles up behind you.
Yharnam is a broken place, once that surrendered itself to oblivion long before you awoke and embarked on a journey throughout its endless night. Small notes from long dead civilians paint a picture of what this place used to be, while crazed survivors hide themselves indoors, unable to keep their own madness at bay despite being shielded from the violence outside. Nowhere is safe, and Bloodborne’s atmosphere makes that perfectly clear as you enter new locations and take each step with a distinct feeling of trepidation. You can defend yourself perfectly well, but one wrong move will see a swarm of hostile villagers descend upon you. Being greeted with a bonfire burning boiled souls into ash, all while a cabal of screeching denizens celebrate their demise is an opening that still haunts me. It establishes a feeling of time and place that never subsides, only growing in absurdity as Yharnam sinks deeper into whatever otherworldly force is pulling the strings.
I think tone and atmosphere is partially why Bloodborne is so beloved. Games have an uncanny ability to transport us to fictional places, making us feel like we belong in the worlds that have been created. In reality it is little more than a fanciful illusion, but with the right combination of creative elements it becomes something else entirely. Bloodborne is the epitome of that achievement, depicting a place that feels so real, so doomed, and so utterly devoid of hope that the masochistic among us can’t help but lose ourselves. Revisiting it is merely a sad reminder that other games still fail to measure up, unable to deliver an experience as raw and visceral as FromSoftware managed almost a decade ago.
Your role in the game’s story is a stroke of ambiguous genius. All we know is that we are a hunter, our motivations guided by cryptic dialogue and a lingering myth that the endless night can be brought to an end by defeating those who shackle it in place. However, as we defeat bosses and progress through Yharnam we can’t shake the feeling that things are actually getting a lot worse. Monsters become more corrupt, while architecture now crumbles to the ground as new horrors emerge from the wreckage. Perhaps we aren’t the saviour of this forgotten realm, but merely an arbiter to its inevitable destruction, convinced that leaving ethereal beings in a pool of righteous bloodshed will repair a world that is far beyond saving.
Gaining Insight also morphs certain aspects of the game, changing the placement of certain enemies or even introducing new ones after reaching a certain limit. You are constantly on edge, convinced that something is about to go very, very wrong in spite of your valiant effort to pull things back from the brink. Even Dark Souls and Elden Ring tease a shining ray of hope from beneath all the death and misery, but in Bloodborne there is nothing. All we have to strive for is more bloodshed, a desire to murder giant creatures and believe that whatever we’re doing will do some form of good when all is said and done.
Combat reinforces this more hostile approach to world design. Shields are gone, while movement speed has been increased significantly so dodges, counters, and rolls have far more significance than ever before. You can no longer stand back and wait things out, the game actively encourages you to jump in and start slashing away like nobody’s business. There’s an integral link between Bloodborne’s narrative fascination with the red sticky stuff and how that factors into the ferocity of each encounter. You’re fighting for your life, and that is evident in every slash, slice, and stab you deliver throughout the entire campaign.
Bloodborne launched during my first year of university when I was living in halls with an awful internet connection. It meant I was unable to play online at all, so my experience with FromSoftware’s brooding masterpiece was unpatched. That meant long loading times, difficult bosses, and absolutely no multiplayer. There is no way I’d dream of playing it in this way ever again, but in retrospect I wouldn’t change it for the world.
My defining moments with Bloodborne were imbued with a punishment both technical and artistic, pulling me into its twisted vision of the apocalypse and filling me with a determination to save it or unknowingly quicken its descent into the grave. Either way, FromSoftware crafted a masterpiece with Bloodborne, and seven years later it remains undefeated.
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