For those who play games like me – where challenges are more enticing than entertainment – it's hard not to feel a little bit ashamed. We're drawn to games that taunt us with their impossibility, that tantalize us with the promise of mastery and satisfaction, even when the odds seem impossibly stacked against us.
There's something satisfying about being driven by an insatiable desire to beat something we know is impossible – whether it's a notoriously hard boss in Hollow Knight: Silksong or navigating a treacherous maze like the Manbreaker in Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment. We revel in the frustration, the anger, and the sheer willpower required to overcome those barriers.
For me, games like these were always about more than just beating levels or bosses – they were about pushing my limits, testing myself, and proving that I was capable of overcoming obstacles even when it seemed like all hope was lost. It's a strange sort of validation, but one that ultimately makes the process worthwhile.
There's something satisfying about being driven by an insatiable desire to beat something we know is impossible – whether it's a notoriously hard boss in Hollow Knight: Silksong or navigating a treacherous maze like the Manbreaker in Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment. We revel in the frustration, the anger, and the sheer willpower required to overcome those barriers.
For me, games like these were always about more than just beating levels or bosses – they were about pushing my limits, testing myself, and proving that I was capable of overcoming obstacles even when it seemed like all hope was lost. It's a strange sort of validation, but one that ultimately makes the process worthwhile.