Why I Love... Dark Souls' Fight Clubs

The first rule of Dark Souls fight club is… learn its multitude of unwritten rules

- Joe Donnelly

I scan the battlefield. Location? The sunken half-circle balcony to the rear of Pontiff Sulyvahn’s boss battle chamber. Opponents? Three glowing-red human players – a pyromancer, a mage, and a Smough’s Great Hammer-wielding warrior. Me? I’m ready to fight. Always. Let’s go.

I leap from the stairwell above, skirt over tufts of unkempt grass at my feet, and then lunge at the mage to my right, who’s seemingly locked in the game’s ‘Welcome’ gesture. A dull thud followed by a high-pitched clang echoes around the arena, as my Dragonslayer Swordspear connects with its target, and then the concrete below on the follow-through.

I prepare for a riposte, but, instead… silence. Nobody moves. Fog rolls over the crumbling barrier at the far side of the balcony, and its lines of ornate Gothic statues cast stony stares into the distance. I pause. They pause. And then... CRASH! BANG! WALLOP! I’m down. I’ve been ambushed. Those bastards! YOU DIED. Well, duh.