Forged in Flame: A Love Letter to FromSoftware

What can I even say about FromSoftware that hasn’t already been said by a million other people, and probably better? The reach and impact of this studio can’t be overstated. Within the gaming world—and even beyond it—FromSoftware has left fingerprints everywhere. Their design language, difficulty philosophy, and lore-building have inspired countless developers and players alike. The term “Souls-like” exists solely because they made something so distinct and memorable that it carved its own subgenre. That’s rarified air—shared with “Metroidvania” and very few others.

But for me, FromSoftware’s story isn’t just about innovation. It’s deeply personal. This is a studio that, piece by piece, helped shape the way I think about games—and maybe a little about life, too.

The Flash of Steel: King’s Field II

My journey with FromSoft didn’t begin with a big trailer drop or hype cycle. It started with a hand-me-down. King’s Field II showed up in my childhood game collection out of nowhere, gifted (or abandoned?) by a family friend. I was maybe five or six. I barely understood the mechanics, let alone the story. But I remember the feel of it.

The box art is burned into my brain: a lone knight, sword raised, lightning crashing like it belonged on the cover of a Top 20 Metal Albums CD. I remember the awkward swish of a sword, the slow-paced dungeon crawling, the mushroom-like enemies, and selling something important early on—probably an amulet or shield I wasn’t supposed to touch. I couldn’t beat it. I couldn’t even get far. But it planted something in me. A seed.

Card Decks and Catastrophe: Lost Kingdoms I & II

Fast forward to the GameCube era. Another FromSoftware title falls into my lap—Lost Kingdoms, purchased by my grandpa who had no idea what kind of games I liked. It was, by all accounts, a weird choice. You play as Katia, a princess with a deck of monster cards and a rune stone embedded in her back. Not exactly a blockbuster pitch for a little boy in the early 2000s.

But I gave it a shot. And I’m glad I did.

It ruled.

The card-based combat (think Yu-Gi-Oh meets Final Fantasy) was weird, dark, and mesmerizing. The world was collapsing under a mysterious fog, and your only hope was to summon monsters and fight your way through. It was drenched in that melancholic atmosphere that’s so quintessentially FromSoft. It wasn’t flashy. It was lonely. Sad. Beautiful.

I later discovered that one of the enemy designs—the Fire Gargoyle—would eventually reappear in Dark Souls, deep in Lost Izalith. That reuse of assets wasn’t lazy. It was legacy.

Lost Kingdoms II expanded everything. You play a thief instead of a princess. You could heal mid-level, discard cards without losing them, and double the power of spells by boosting resource costs. Quality-of-life flourishes everywhere. It became one of those games I replayed every year. A comfort zone. A forgotten gem. I will bang the table forever for a Lost Kingdoms III, or even a remaster of the originals. Let me relive that magic.

College Years and Crushing Defeat: Dark Souls

Then came college. And Dark Souls.

At first? I hated it. No clear path. High difficulty. Confusing mechanics. And the souls-as-currency system? Terrifying. I did all the rookie mistakes: leveled Resistance (lol), hoarded heavy armor, relied on the Drake Sword.

Until I didn’t.

A buddy of mine—equally dumb, equally stubborn—helped me crack the code. I dropped the Drake Sword and picked up the Claymore. I stopped trying to tank and started to roll. I started making mad dashes for firekeeper souls, suicide-running into dangerous zones, and hopping off cliffs to reset. It became a ritual. A lifestyle.

I didn’t just play Dark Souls—I lived in it. I became the guy who knew the shortcuts in Blighttown. Who could beat Capra Demon without a flinch. Who invaded strangers’ worlds just to spice things up. I played dozens of builds. I rang both Bells of Awakening more times than I can count.

Dark Souls Remastered brought that experience back as an adult. It still slaps. But the cracks are more obvious now. The hitboxes aren’t always fair. The camera is a demon. But that doesn’t erase the magic. It just makes it more real.

The Outlier: Dark Souls II

I pre-ordered Dark Souls II, went to the midnight launch, got the collector’s edition. I wanted to love it.

And I mostly did… but not entirely.

It’s a mixed bag. The base game feels disjointed—like it was stitched together from ideas rather than grown organically. But the DLC? Incredible. Crown of the Sunken King, Crown of the Old Iron King—some of the best level design and boss fights in the entire series.

It’s a game of highs and lows. And in hindsight, a fascinating case study. You can feel the absence of Hidetaka Miyazaki. You can also feel a team trying its best to keep the fire alive without him. It’s a B-minus game with A-plus moments.

Scholar of the First Sin added just enough remixing and lore expansion to make it worth revisiting. But for me, this one never truly settled into my soul the way the others did.

The Dream Turns Nightmare: Bloodborne

Then came Bloodborne.

Oh my God.

This game. This game.

Gone were the swords and shields. Gone was the medieval high-fantasy. Instead: cosmic horror, beast transformations, Lovecraftian madness. You weren’t a knight. You were a hunter. You didn’t block—you dodged. You bled. You adapted. You survived.

From the gothic spires of Yharnam to the writhing horror of the Nightmare of Mensis, Bloodborne is pure, uncut brilliance. The healing mechanic—blood vials instead of Estus—added intensity. The setting was grim, brutal, soaked in fog and fur and failure.

And the story? You start off hunting werewolves and end up questioning the nature of humanity, evolution, and dreams. There are aliens. There are orphan gods. There are umbilical cords.

Bloodborne isn’t just my favorite FromSoft game. It might be my favorite game, period. I can’t say enough about it. I won’t even try. Just know that if they ever drop Bloodborne II, I will sell a kidney on the black market to get it early.

The Final Flame: Dark Souls III

By the time Dark Souls III dropped, my life had shifted. I was working full time, no longer in the free-floating world of college. I didn’t have the bandwidth to immerse the way I used to.

But Dark Souls III didn’t care. It showed up polished, grim, and stunning. It felt like a love letter to the first game—refined visuals, fast-paced combat, haunting ruins and echoes of what came before.

I didn’t dive as deep this time, but what I played was exceptional. The bonfires, the bosses, the stories left in item descriptions—it all still hit.

This was FromSoft closing a chapter. And they did it beautifully.

A Storm on the Horizon: Elden Ring

Then silence.

For years, nothing.

And then Elden Ring dropped like a divine revelation. Not a sequel. Not a remake. A new legend.

The open-world design felt like a massive risk—but they nailed it. This wasn’t an empty sandbox. It was dense, mysterious, teeming with secrets. You ride around on Torrent, your spectral steed, galloping across wind-torn cliffs and corrupted castles. The scale is jaw-dropping. But more importantly, it feels right.

The bosses are brutal and majestic. Mohg. Malenia. Radahn. Each a god in their own way. The lore is deeper than ever—thanks in part to George R.R. Martin—and the freedom to build your character however you like? Peak gaming.

And it keeps growing. Shadow of the Erdtree launched. And Nightreign, the multiplayer spinoff, might be a whole new frontier.

Elden Ring isn’t my favorite FromSoft game.

But it’s their best one.

Three Ghosts Left Unfought

There are still gaps in my FromSoft journey. I haven’t yet played Sekiro, Demon’s Souls, or Nightreign. Two are sitting in my library, waiting. One I still need to pick up.

But I’m not worried. I know what’s waiting for me. I know it’ll be punishing. And I know it’ll be worth it.

Beyond the Fog Gate

FromSoftware may have had a bigger impact on my gaming life than any other studio.

Their games taught me patience. They taught me resilience. They taught me that failure isn’t the end—it’s data. Try again. And again. And again.

They taught me to get gud. Not just in games. But in everything.

So this is my love letter to FromSoftware.

Thank you for the pain. The mystery. The beauty. The worlds I never wanted to leave.

Praise the sun, forever.