Dark Souls Diary: Part One

Awake in a dungeon. Seem to have inherited the name “Crump” from somewhere. Captors clearly mouthbreathing retards as I am wearing full platemail, but I am not inclined to complain.

Day One: Awake in a dungeon. Seem to have inherited the name “Crump” from somewhere. Captors clearly mouthbreathing retards as I am wearing full platemail, but I am not inclined to complain.

I am a Knight – one of several options given to me, including Pyromancer and Bandit – and I am strangely fat for someone who’s dead. Oh, that’s right; I am dead. Luckily this seems to amount to little more than a dodgy skin condition and an unpleasant odour, but seeing I live in a fantasy medieval world I should fit in fine.

A body is thrown in, along with a key to the cell door. The guards here are terrible. I get up – despite being dead, I can run around a bit – and open the door. Perhaps someone outside will know what is going on.

I have a sword handle with a bit of sword stuck to it – only around a third, though. Persumably the other two-thirds are lodged in a goon somewhere. I am encouraged (via writing scrawled on the floor) to attack some shambling, poorly-dressed pinkish men who seem in need of a good meal and a nice sit down, as frenzied as they are. I put them out of their misery and get going.

Someone has left messages all over the place, telling me what to do. Is this some sort of tutorial? I don’t know. I can’t speak, apparently, or form coherent thoughts. A giant demon appears briefly and I am told to run, which I do. A massive sword and a shield have been left carelessly around the dungeon in a clear breach of Health and Safety laws. I use them to murder some more pink men who have decided to hurt me.

A man – a guard, perhaps – is dying in front of me. He tells me that there is an old saying in his family, and it’s the following snappy number:

“Thou who art undead, art chosen, in thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords, when thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the undead thou shalt know.”

Great. Great stuff. Really memorable. Bid him farewell before rifling through his pockets for loose change, finding only a key which opens a route back to that giant demon from before. Suitably emboldened, I hack its face off with a broadsword and go on my merry way. I pause briefly to read a message on the floor that says “Go Straight Ahead,” before a giant crow grabs me and takes me to a far-off mystical land.

In-flight entertainment poor, meal consists of bugs flying into my mouth, stewardess is a giant crow. It is going to be one of those days, I feel.