I was lucky enough to have been given exclusive footage and information regarding the upcoming action RPG, based on Arthurian Legend, Tides of Annihilation. Set in an apocalyptic London, I was immediately attached to the unique manner with which the arcane has ripped through the fabric of reality and corrupted the city I know. I often find video games set in places I have visited in real life more than fascinating — perhaps why I loved Assassin’s Creed Syndicate so much, but alas, I digress. As I mentioned, this game is based around an adaptation of Arthurian Legend, heralding characters and concepts from this false-history of England, but — as they explained at Gamescom — from the perspective of Chinese developers. However, I just wanted to mention that to keep it in mind! Of course it isn’t going to be anything wholly canon to the source material, but I want to analyse what we have already from the perspective of someone familiar with the legends of yore; along with any lore predictions I have from the in-game text I was given a sneak peak of! Do enjoy this short little dive and let me know what you think of what we’ve seen of this game thus far.

The story of King Arthur is one of an underdog slaying foes and commanding legions with all the spirit of chivalry and knighthood. It is the quintessential in medieval traditions, and has been used in countless fantasy work as a prime piece of inspiration. First appearing in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Latin chronicle Historia Regum Britanniae, written between 1136 and 1138, it was written as a kind of patriotic tale to be told in court and explain the origins of the country. Full of magic and the arcane, it is set quite aptly in the county of Cornwall, not — as one may believe — London. At the southernmost talon of England sits this county, one of mysticism and witchcraft, folklore and myth. It is a county I have visited often myself, including the titular Tintagel which is said to be the location of King Arthur’s rule, as Geoffrey of Monmouth claimed.

Tintagel Castle was built by Richard, Earl of Cornwall in the 1230s after being inspired by these stories — despite its value as a military fortification upon this coast, it was built as more of a homage to Arthurian Legend than anything else. Now a ruin upon this cliffside, it is a huge tourist attraction, but is genuinely a gorgeous ruin with some incredible views. Furthermore, it is the sight of much superstition, including Merlin’s Cave on the beach. As I say, Cornwall has more of a presence in Arthurian Legend than London, but Tides of Annihilation is going to be set in a kind of alternate-future of London wherein we may explore corrupted modern attractions, including the London Eye, with scars of the arcane festering in the fabric of reality.

We play as Gwendolyn, a rather… confusing character in the original canon to put it lightly. Not appearing in the later chronicles as written by, for example, Sir Thomas Malory or Lord Tennyson, she was, in real history, an English Queen who married King Locrinus — who later left her for another woman. Through the modern eye, Gwendolyn is quite a strong feminine figure who later raised an army from Cornwall to defeat King Locrinus in battle. In fiction, she is either the wife of Merlin, or the fairy lover to King Arthur, depending on which legend one wishes to read — the modern Walter Scott’s poem, or the original Geoffrey of Monmouth. Regardless, her presence is vague but almost bastardised by the fictional legend wherein she is not the warrior queen who once defeated her once-lover at the Battle at the River Stour, but merely the romantic companion to either Merlin or King Arthur. This quite proves what society would prefer women be in the patriarchal ideal.

Gwendolyn, in Tides of Annihilation, is an ordinary girl who is swept into the throes of chaos as the game progresses. I wonder if she is going to mirror the story of King Arthur and his ascension to the throne. Son to Duchess Igraine of Cornwall and King Uther Pendragon, he is hidden away as a child until able to prove his blue blood by pulling Excalibur from the stone. But before then, he was brought up as an ordinary, working class child. I wonder then if Gwen is going to endure a similar fate. We see, from the Gamescom Trailer, she is given a sword by a mysterious woman — is her battle through this distorted world to claim her title as Queen, perhaps? Alongside saving the innocents, of course. Her ordinariness I feel is going to play an important part in this story, but this is pure speculation.

Now, I will focus on the actual details that have been shared from the footage given, there are a few mystical aspects and arcane contextualisation I want to highlight. First, is the mysterious entity known only as The Fog.

“The Fog is a conscious being which exists across the dimensions. It is not simply mist, but an unknown form that exists somewhere between life, energy, and matter. […] Over the long ages, humanity’s fleeting encounters with the Fog were mistaken for miracles, faerie folk, otherworldly realms — and for vanishings and returns, as if spirited away. […] Avalon, then, is a realm wrought by the Fog. Now, Avalon has overlaid the living London, and the two worlds have begun to fuse. The city has been rewritten, its life consumed — leaving only ruins suspended between the real and the other. It is said that a rare few beings can form a symbiosis with the Fog. Arthur is the most renowned among them.” (The Fog Description)

There is a lot to chew on here. First, the very concept of The Fog is both vague and ardent. Fog and mist is often associated with the occult and strange occurrences due to the way in which our minds play tricks in the dark and obscured. The Fog in this context seems to be aligning with the strange dimensional-timey backdrop that is ravaging the world. London and another dimension colliding; it feels almost cosmic in a way, messing with reality itself. What I find interesting though is the way this fusing of realities is explained in this particular note: “the city has been rewritten, its life consumed.” Rewritten is such a distinct word here as it makes me think that the city and its history has been rewritten — perhaps this is where the inclusion of Arthurian Legend derives here: with the city rewritten, it has instead been written to align with this false history of England.

Avalon, the realm which is supposedly “overlaying the living London”, is the earthly paradise described in Arthurian Legend, an arcane place where King Arthur supposedly was taken to recover from fatal wounds. I wonder if this realm is going to be more of something magical rather than “earthly”. It is often associated with Glastonbury due to its notable apple orchards that fit with the original description. Avalon, perhaps, is going to be a more mystical land separate from our own — not necessarily sitting on our earth, but something entirely separate colliding with London, as described.

Finally, I wonder at what the final lines mean. “It is said that a rare few beings can form a symbiosis with the Fog. Arthur is the most renowned among them.” I can see this as being a reference to Arthur having spent time in the earthly paradise of Avalon, a twisted or reimagining of this story. Of course Arthur is going to play a very prominent role in this story, I do just wonder where Gwendolyn is going to fit — will she be the lover of Arthur or Merlin? The lover of either? Half of me hopes neither to save her character from merely mirroring the way Gwen was bastardised in the original tales, but I doubt this will happen what with her frontal role in the game.

Of course, this game is going to be peppered with Arthurian references for those who know these stories. The Knights of the Round Table Hold are aspects that, I believe, can be wielded by Gwendolyn as offensive skills, but the most famous of them will take a more frontal role — including Lancelot and Galahad. In a note titled “Retainer’s Reverence”, it is stated that:

“Lady Elaine’s power is nothing short of a miracle! This accursed otherworld is fraught with danger at every turn! Great Lady Elaine! With a single thought, she reshapes this realm to match her desire! A mere wave of her hand, and the very land and buildings shift beyond recognition. And so, none but Lady Elaine herself may set foot upon that holy place.”

Elaine of Astolat is a character seen in Sir Walter Scott’s poem and Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Mort D’Arthur. In the latter, “Sir Bernard’s daughter, Elaine, known at that time as the Fair Maid of Astolat” was overhearing her father talk to Sir Lancelot about a tournament the knight will take part in, and “as soon as she saw Lancelot, she fell in love with him.” (Mallory, 237). Elaine’s death was from a broken heart as Lancelot denied her love and left her. Elaine’s story inspired the famous, Ophelia-esque poem by Tennyson, The Lady of Shalott. I wonder if her grief and tragedy is going to be an aspect in this game, the reason for her arcane power and the reality she has reshaped, “to match her desire”.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower’d Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott. (Tennyson)

We hear more of Lady Elaine in these early notes and scribbles by knights and scholars alike. The footage we have been shown is from a mid-to-early part of the game, and with its inspiration from such games as, for example, Devil May Cry, I can imagine each location will come with a single, great final boss that will be built up from the beginning. Lady Elaine, no doubt, will be one of these bosses — likely that which oversees the Museum and the Folded Realms within.

“This is not Avalon. This is not our homeland. Yet so long as Lady Elaine’s command remains, the banner of the Knight Legion shall never fall! I will hold this post — ever vigilant, blade in hand — to keep the horrors at bay. For the glory of Sir Galahad! […] And even now, when Sir Galahad himself has long since ceased to walk by my side.” (Frontline Knight’s Unease)

Sir Galahad, in legend, is the son of Lancelot and Elaine — the son and father met on a ship on the quest to find The Holy Grail. It is an interesting story, for despite Elaine’s love of Lancelot — and their fling which resulted in Galahad — Lancelot secretly loved Arthur’s wife, Guinevere. I am so intrigued as to how the game is going to handle this particular part of the legend, and whether Gwen will be at all involved with Arthur or Merlin. In the end, Lancelot died of a broken heart after Guinevere, too, passed — the irony is quite apt. Galahad, however, achieves the Holy Grail and becomes king of the holy land Sarras. This makes sense for the context in game, as this land supposedly sits near Egypt. In the footage we have seen, we go through the Egyptian part of the British Museum, only to enter a Folded Realm into an actual depiction of ancient Egypt. It is quite clever, really, this implementation of legend twisted into its own story.

I just wonder at the presence of Lady Elaine — Maid of Astolat — and why she is not dead in this depiction. Whether she has arcane power enough to change the reality of this world to fit, as it is described, her desires. Has she bound Lancelot to her? Will she be villainous in that regard? I am very excited to see.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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Whenever someone makes the claim that Lies of P is close enough to a Bloodborne 2 that we will ever get, I always have to stifle a bit of an eye roll as I vehemently disagree. Not only are the general aesthetics of each games distinctly different, but the only similarity I can truly think of are the rally mechanics in each, and the presence of vacuous zombie-like enemies; Lies of P leaning far further into this undead-theme too. No, I do not think Lies of P gives me at all the same vibes as Bloodborne, nor do I think it is attempting to be a sequel to the masterpiece that is, indeed, Bloodborne. It has its own identity, and I will say though it does sound like I am about to talk about a game that does not have its own identity, that is far from the case. The Duskbloods Network Test was a short sneak peak of the game that is to release later this year. It is a PVP extraction-type game, but in truth it is rather hard to explain just what kind of game it is without going in-depth with the many mechanics and such.

However, that is not really what I want to talk about today. Of course, I’ll give my thoughts from the Network Test in a moment, but I do primarily want to focus on the literary references, my interpretations, and possible inspirations, that I have gathered from the Test and that alone. I have heard that this game has been very much inspired by the Fate manga, but I’m afraid I know as little about that as I do about the Berserk manga and thus… I won’t be analysing that specific inspiration. These are all, as always on this Substack, my own analysis and interpretations. So please, I beg, save your “erm actually’s”, they are unwelcome here!

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We have all experienced that lingering nostalgia of a time past, brought on by a sound or a smell. Many of us have such bouts of surging memories from video games; Skyrim, Halo, Minecraft — the music, graphics, and sound effects can bring on a kind of time-travel as we are momentarily transported to our childhood. For me, one of my strongest floods of nostalgia occurs whenever I use the Khajiit Night Eye effect, or use a healing spell, in Skyrim. I’m unsure why, but the sound of both send me back to 2013, sitting in my room, being far too afraid to leave Whiterun hold. Specifically, it is night-time in Tamriel, and I am walking past the watch tower. It is a very specific memory, but one locked into my brain. This is another reason why I think video games can hold a far more special place in our hearts than any other media. So interactive, we make our own stories in these worlds. They feel personal. I could talk here about the impact Skyrim has had on mine and my brother’s lives until the cows come home, but instead I want to talk about something a little different.

Within Tears of the Kingdom, just above the Faron wetlands, sits the Thunderhead Isles. A floating island bathed in a harsh and sempiternal storm that ravages and riots; blinding all who enter. It is a difficult terrain to traverse, and unless one has cleared the storm via a quest on the surface, one may struggle to find their way. Alas, below Thunderhead Isle, but still within its storm, sits the aptly named Dragonhead Island.

It is the music here, the memories that it uproots, that I want to talk about in this article.

This is going to be a different kind of essay than I usually do, as you have probably noticed; shorter, and that is because by the time this essay goes live for everyone, it will be my birthday tomorrow! So, I wanted to write a slightly less research-heavy essay so I can chill and relax over the weekend. So, without further ado, let us begin.

There is a vast melancholy to this whimsical track. With the rain pattering above, we explore the small island under cover of the inner ruin. Within is very little, only a shrine and Mineru’s mask, but it begins the quest to free her spirit and the construct she designed. I think the melancholic music stems from the connection to this quest. The entirety of Tears of the Kingdom and Breath of the Wild relies on the concept of time long past, people long gone, events long destroyed. We meet, in both games, people who have long since been dead, but whose essence remain willing to lend us their power. But there is such a sadness to this, meeting memories of the past. Mineru, especially, is a tragic tale as we learn more and more about she, Zelda and Rauru.

I think there is also something to be said here about the name — Dragonhead Island. Beyond just the obvious fact that the name stems from its shape, I think it is a bit of an allusion to the prominence of dragons in this game, and the prospect of their existence. Dragons do not simply exist for the sake of balance — Dinraal, Naydra and Farosh all representing the Triforce — but also the source of the grief and anguish this story presents. We learn that to become a Dragon, to undergo Draconification, is to lose oneself to bestial vacuity. You will no longer be you, and though your life will continue for centuries, eternally, you will be forced only to float aimlessly the skies of Hyrule. It is speculated that the dragons we meet were once Zonai due to the similarities in their sprawling manes and floppy ears. The Light Dragon, of course, is free of these aspects and has ears pointier than her Zonai others.

Dragonhead Island feels like a homage to these dragons. It is doused in storm reminiscent of the Faron wetlands below, and heralds such a melancholic soundtrack that I cannot think of anything more appropriate than the tears of the dragons.

But it is also… a serenity, for me, at least. As I said, nostalgia can come in many forms, and the memories that flood back to me when I listen to the Dragonhead Island theme are drowning in a wintertide yearning. I first played Tears of the Kingdom at Christmastime in 2023. I had already fallen well in love with Breath of the Wild, and often fell asleep to Zora’s Domain’s night theme. As I write this, we are a week out of the fifth heatwave that has grasped at 40 degrees. I have never yearned for winter and autumn more, and am relieved to feel a chill in the air and the promise of decay on the horizon. Listening to, or watching, media that reminds me of winter gives me a moment of relief, and that is what Dragonhead Island gives me.

It takes me back to the bitter cold winter of 2023/4. I was in third year of university living away from home, and now I realise how much I should have embraced it. My third year of university was amazing, course-wise and social-wise. My previous year was awful, and I was in a bad place mentally, and thus my third year became one of healing. I think that is why I feel such comfort from this track; memories from a time of healing. From the dark, bitter nights of winter; from the smell of herbal tea and early nights of sleep. From Christmas and family, warmth and comfort. This is only emphasised, I think, by the melancholia it pronounces in its melody. It is a special theme, a special place; a special game.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

There is a violent philosophy festering in the bleak futurism of the 2015 survival horror game, SOMA. It is a game rife with quite overt philosophical messages, all stemming from the concept of Cartesian Dualism and The Ghost in the Shell. The idea that we are a mind and a body, a conscience within this organic machine we control. First explored by René Descartes, Cartesian Dualism, or Mind-Body Dualism, it is more or less explained:

“There is a vast difference between mind and body, in respect that body, from its nature, is always divisible, and that mind is entirely indivisible.” — Meditations on First Philosophy

In short, it is the exploration into the distinction between a physical body and the mind, or conscience, that exists within. Are these two things distinct from one another, and if so, what is stopping us from separating them and placing our mind in something else? What weight and importance does our body hold beyond just keeping our brain alive? If something else can keep us alive, what would it look like to exist in something that isn’t our body? These questions are explored within SOMA, wherein Simon, a man suffering a traumatic and soon-fatal brain injury, undergoes an experimental procedure in order to capture part of his essence and store it for safe keeping — to one day wake up that part of him, that which has been copied, his mind. This is only revealed halfway through the game. Consciousness copied and kept safe in a database from a handful of different decades were used as tests for the ultimate intention of PATHOS-II; that to send digital copies of human conscience to the stars, to travel in a kind of computer — a simulation of a better life, while the world is destroyed by an asteroid.

All of this information is slowly drip-fed to us as we progress through the coalition of facilities beneath the ocean. We, as Simon, are just as clueless about what is going on here as he is. He has no special information the player does not have access to, nor do we have a kind of dramatic irony — information we know, while Simon doesn’t. We are looking, mechanically and narratively, through a first person perspective. This gives us a kind of vulnerability, the same kind that we endure as we traverse these different levels. Robotically monstrous enemies pursue us, but we can do nothing but hide. We cannot fight back, and this alone is symbolic of the way we are entirely helpless in the face of the greater ambition of humanity. We, Simon, were thrown into this time without our knowledge, and were unlucky enough to have lost the coin toss.

Each time a conscience is split in SOMA, they experience a kind of coin toss as it is explained in the game by our lovely companion, and employee of PATHOS-II, Catherine. The ARK, that which they intended to place all copied human conscience into, was her brain child. Regardless, as I said, they experience a coin toss. Each time their conscience is split, they don’t lose anything necessarily. It is not like a half-life, where splitting then halves the power of the now two objects, but simply a duplication. It is luck whether you will end up remaining the conscience that has the better outlook, or the one that will be doomed. From the moment, the very nanosecond, that you are split do you and your copy become two different people.

We, as human beings, as living conscious creatures, are made up of nothing but our experiences. It is where we get our personality, our morality, our memories. It is that which shapes us. The duplication of our minds is not the birth of a new being necessarily. When we split in SOMA, we retain our memories. We are the same person for that split second. But as soon as we begin to have different experiences, go our own separate ways, do we change. We have the same childhood memories, but we will find different people. We will fall in love with different people. We will experience different traumas and anguish until we become entirely distinguishable from one another. PATHOS-II was not understood by many but Catherine. By placing yourself on the ARK, you do not then go to sleep and awaken in this utopia. A stranger does, and you are the sacrifice to allow them to exist there. You will remain doomed while another version of you will live happy and, though a bit of a complex statement I dare not dive into, alive.

It is this Catherine tried to explain to Simon. He even experienced it once before descending into the deep sea. But I do not think there is a chance that you will be the you on the ARK. The game made you think that, toyed with your hope, but in reality you were just jumping between Simons.

There is no coin toss. There is never a coin toss. You are you, if there are two of you, you are not the other and eventually you will be two different people. You are still human if you have human experiences that made you. What is the point of PATHOS-II if we are creating life just to send it where we cannot go? These people on the ARK are not us, but strangers who will live to what purpose? Death is a mercy and all living things must die. There is no start over, no way we can live forever with meaning. In the end, Simon was living with false hope, but he was already dead. There is a truth to mind-body dualism, but we lose our humanity — our mortality — when death is stolen from us. The ARK was a kind vision, but in the end death is the only way out; and that shouldn’t be a bad thing. To live is to know one day you will die, as all things should. Too much of anything is a bad thing; even life.

“No, no, I will not live among the wild scenes of nature, the enemy of all that lives. I will seek the towns—Rome, the capital of the world, the crown of man’s achievements. Among its storied streets, hallowed ruins, and stupendous remains of human exertion, I shall not, as here, find every thing forgetful of man; trampling on his memory, defacing his works, proclaiming from hill to hill, and vale to vale,—by the torrents freed from the boundaries which he imposed—by the vegetation liberated from the laws which he enforced—by his habitation abandoned to mildew and weeds, that his power is lost, his race annihilated for ever.” (The Last Man, Mary Shelley)

The Last Man by Mary Shelley is often deemed as the very first eco-horror apocalypse novel to be written. A violent plague sweeps the world, and it seems Lionel Verney, our narrator, is the only one immune. As the title alludes, Lionel becomes “the last man” on Earth, and we watch as he experiences companionship and love, anguish and war, while the world is slowly depopulated by a blight with no cure. It is an amusing and fascinating look into how a mid-19th century writer viewed the future, as it is set between 2075-2100. This, I feel, is an incredibly similar exploration into human morality and the concept of an apocalyptic future as we see in SOMA — most ardently the focus on the last man on earth.

In SOMA, we do not necessarily feel alone. It doesn’t feel, in my eyes, as though the world above is empty. The ocean itself feels solitary, but we have Catherine, and we meet along our way the distraught and delusional workers of PATHOS-II confused as to why their conscience is not zapped into the ARK, but instead now relying on the aggressive energy provided by their now robotic bodies. It is sad, and I only really felt as though I was talking to another human being with the poor, helpless Robin, but it is another human voice in this empty soundscape we are shoved into.

In The Last Man, the destruction of humanity is a slow, drip-fed thing that we witness, through Lionel, with quiet content. We know this is happening and it is no secret, the very title of the novel says as much, but there is still a hopeless sadness to it. If you know and understand the fate of Simon from Catherine’s explanation — that he is not going to enter the ARK, only his copy is — then it is that same hopelessness. There is no point in running from the tsunami, not when it is twenty feet tall and headed straight for you. It is knowing death is coming but having no way of stopping it, but there is something else there, I think.

Death can be a mercy — sweet oblivion where only pain and torture is the alternative. But neither Simon nor Lionel dies; they are left, instead, to wander this empty place until they give out (willingly or not). Catherine, without her power supply now sapped by the launch of ARK, leaves him. Likely he cannot even wander, what with being locked in the chair — this is an existence, a fate, that we all should fear. Darkness, solitary darkness broken up by nothing. No hope of rescue, no hope of survival. He cannot live in the sense of living a life worth… living. He can survive, but likely he will go mad before his battery runs out. It reminds me of that one ending in the Stanley Parable 2 where we find a button that, as we press it, keeps skipping time for us. But in reality, we’re just left frozen as time continues to tick along.

The narrator, bound to us, has to wait for us to reawaken, and as we keep pressing, the longer we skip. He begs we do not press it again, for how lonely it is, but we continue. In the end, very ominously, the narrator stops speaking at all. But that is not before we awaken to hear him repeat, incessantly, madly, “The end is never the end”. An incomprehensible amount of time has passed and the narrator has long gone mad from the lack of stimuli. There is something about this that genuinely makes my skin crawl. That silence — a very effective moment of psychological horror in an otherwise very silly game.

I wonder, then, if Simon suffered the same fate. Or if he found a way to kill himself long before madness. Regardless, the ending of SOMA is a bleak, depressing thing. Hope felt constantly out of reach, and I am sure many, like I, let out a knowing sigh once the ARK was launched and we didn’t change POV, but returned to that knowing scene. Watching it drift further away.

This is not unlike The Last Man:

“These are wild dreams. Yet since, now a week ago, they came on me, as I stood on the height of St. Peter’s, they have ruled my imagination. I have chosen my boat, and laid in my scant stores. I have selected a few books; the principal are Homer and Shakespeare—But the libraries of the world are thrown open to me—and in any port I can renew my stock. I form no expectation of alteration for the better; but the monotonous present is intolerable to me. Neither hope nor joy are my pilots—restless despair and fierce desire of change lead me on. I long to grapple with danger, to be excited by fear, to have some task, however slight or voluntary, for each day’s fulfilment. I shall witness all the variety of appearance, that the elements can assume—I shall read fair augury in the rainbow— menace in the cloud—some lesson or record dear to my heart in everything. Thus around the shores of deserted earth, while the sun is high, and the moon waxes or wanes, angels, the spirits of the dead, and the ever-open eye of the Supreme, will behold the tiny bark, freighted with Verney—the LAST MAN.” (Mary Shelley)

Lionel will wander, aimlessly, the world. His fate is far less bleak than that of Simon of course, but it is still a fate of utter loneliness after watching those he knew and loved die to a violent sickness. But the concept is the same, the Last Man whose only escape is death or eternal desolation.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

If you wish to donate some echoes, do consider doing so here, or subscribing!

❛ buy me a coffee ❜

Subscribe now

Otherwise, may you find your worth in the waking world <3

❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

Elden Ring is no stranger to the wild, torrential moors of Gothicism. From the architecture in Raya Lucaria, to themes surrounding trauma and the paranormal, Fromsoft has used themes of classic Gothic novels ever since the very first Dark Souls game. Their narratives are steeped in literary inspiration, and there is a reason my account is so very focused on interpreting and picking apart these themes to the best of my ability. Though I do focus primarily on themes of Gothicism and Feminism, I do think these games interpret and adapt aspects from other literature beyond the Gothicism of the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries. Indeed, as the Gothic is inspired by antiquity dating all the way back to the Hellenistic era, and most notably that of Jacobean poets and playwrights.

The women of William Shakespeare have been analysed to within an inch of their lives. The famous playwright and poet is one of, if not the, most studied figures in literature. With aspects of the supernatural running riot through his tragedies, it is no wonder then that plenty of fantastical pieces of media use his themes and tropes in their narratives. This, as I will argue here, includes the 2022 masterpiece that is Elden Ring.

With its already scholarly way of depicting lore and history, Elden Ring — and souls in general — is a wonderful example of how media beyond literature can adapt and mimic that kind of storytelling and research. As I have said in previous articles, Souls is a realistic depiction of archaeology and anthropology in a fictional world. We go into these games relying in primary sources through item descriptions, dialogue, and (most importantly) the environment which we piece together ourselves. So, I also think it innately adapts such writers as Shakespeare who became the standard for both symbolic interpretation, and literary research.

But, what I want to focus on most ardently in this essay, is the way Elden Ring adapts the Shakespearean tragic heroine, specifically through our dear Rennala, and the majesty of the night she conjureth.

I do perceive here a divided duty. (Othello, 1.3)

Milly Barranger writes in THE CANKERED ROSE: A CONSIDERATION OF THE JACOBEAN TRAGIC HEROINE:

“The folk tradition in English drama nurtures the romantic heroine with her beauty, chastity, obedience, and femininity. The revenge tradition in Renaissance drama fosters the Italianate heroine characterized by superlative physical beauty, stoicism in adversity, and by adherence to appetite and will as opposed to reason” (178)

Rennala’s history opens up questions about her relation to this archetype — which does she align with most? Certainly the latter, for her subservience and weakness did not appear until she experienced the tragedy which felled her to what we discover in-game. Before the madwoman locked in the library, Rennala was a formidable foe and one of the greatest sorcerers The Lands Between had ever seen. The matriarch of House Caria, she led the Academy of Raya Lucaria with quiet proficiency and defended her Liurnia of the Lakes from aureate threat.

It is important to note here the way in which Rennala is depicted in portraits, effigies and descriptions that allude to her past. Her strength, her femininity, her regale nature. Her portraits in the Academy are humble yet elegant, she stands proud and powerful, stoic as a true leader should. It supplies connotations of anything but weakness, even the colour palette is pure majesty; a queenly majesty, strong and unmovable. This is further emphasised in her boss fight wherein Ranni, her daughter, casts an illusion that takes us to a moonlit lake wherein we fight a shadow of Rennala when she was in her prime. She stands straight, casting unending sorceries, summoning those oathsworn; those who chose to lend their power for the sake of defending their queen. Rennala is the figure of feminine strength… but this, as we know, is not to last.

Barranger explains that:

“The tragic heroine embodies the principles of human frailty. She is the weaker sex. An inferior creature formed from the bone of Adam’s rib - she is treated as the generous creation of God, given for companionship to His ultimate creation, man. She is, therefore, subject to the demands of a larger order in a world in which she has no legitimate, primary function in directing the conduct of human affairs. In effect, Elizabethan woman is a secondary creature. Her felicity is dependent upon the grace of God and the goodness of man.” (179)

Elden Ring subverts these expectations. In traditional literature, my focus here being early-age Gothicism such as the works of Ann Radcliffe and Horace Walpole, women were ardently the inferior sex, weak and helpless in the face of their male adversaries. With Souls taking from a lot of Gothic tropes, it is interesting to see how they circumvent these tropes yet still maintain themes of gender and femininity in a Gothic-esque manner. Elden Ring, of course, does not shy away from powerful women — one of the hardest bosses From has ever made is, indeed, a woman. The hardest boss (in my humble, skill issue’d opinion) they have ever made is a very feminine presenting Miquella. But in the context of Rennala specifically, I wonder if From commented on this Gothic and literary tradition (which thankfully has settled down in the grand compendium of contemporary Gothicism) in her deterioration.

Shakespearean tragic heroines is a very specific archetype found… obviously… most ardently in Shakespeare’s tragedies. They are characterised as the mirror of their tragic hero — the protagonist — who befalls a deterioration as a result of his tragic flaw. Whether that be hubris, greed, ambition, etc, the hero will always befall a fate of suffering that usually ends in death and anguish. The tragic heroine, in turn, experiences a similar downfall that is woven between the hero’s narrative, but is never the focal point of the play.

Perhaps the most memorable example of this is Lady Macbeth whose fate is kept very purposefully off stage, and whose name is never revealed as she puppets her husband. She is a woman with ambition, her flaw, who turns mad by the end out of sheer guilt for what she orchestrated.

“Look like th’ innocent flower, / But be the serpent under ‘t.” (1.5)

She, most notably, puppeteers Macbeth after she has begged supernatural powers to “unsex” her. This, of course, explains that she wishes to free herself from her innate “femininity”, often interpreted that she wishes to become, then, more masculine, but I do not agree. She makes no mention of her desire to become more masculine, simply to rid herself of what she believes is feeble femininity, that which makes her emotional and empathetic. She begs dark spirits for this gift, but of course this comes to bite her back when she eventually endures the guilt of her ambition. Notably, as I say, she ends up killing herself after a brief bout of madness, but this is off stage and Macbeth cares not; despite how prominent her part was in making him King.

I relate this to our dear Rennala whose infatuation became her eventual downfall.

Enduring the throes of war, yet defending her territory from the formidable Leyndell army, Rennala became enamoured by the auburn-haired Radagon who proposed marriage in order to illicit peace betwixt the two duelling regions. This was not wholly a political marriage, that which conjoins rival kingdoms, but one borne of genuine love. Often, Radagon is deemed the callous half-villain of Elden Ring’s tale. To many, he is merely an avaricious man with cosmic complexities relating to gender theory (and the alchemical regis blah blah blah Radagon-Marika can be interpreted as an arcane example of gender fluidity so shurrup), he is cruel, but I think he did truly love her. It is that love, though, that emphasises the tragedy of their eventual downfall. The more love, joy, contentment that is present in the narrative, the bigger potential for hate, melancholy and tragedy. If Radagon did not love Rennala, she would not have suffered such a monumental break in her psyche. There was love there, but aureate temptation sadly lured the Red Wolf from his den.

Rennala and Radagon produced three blaze-headed children during their commitment; Rykard, Radahn, and Lunar Princess Ranni. It is the latter, she who too worked to master moonlit sorceries, who became Rennala’s protector in her weakness. Likely, Ranni’s burning hair did little but ignite in turn reveries of her father’s betrayal each time she glanced at a mirror. I cannot see Ranni thinking much of her father but pure vitriol. Despite her absence from her mother’s chambers, Ranni’s connection to her is likely strong. But her mother is yet another sacrifice she had to make. The Lunar Princess hexed the library Rennala was imprisoned within, willingly no doubt, to protect her from foes who should disturb her slumber. But alas, I am getting ahead of myself.

It is after years of bliss that Radagon began to grow distant. This likely erupted a series of violent doubts that cascaded within the Queen’s mind. Despite all the love they shared, it is unfortunate that the full moon cannot give Radagon what he greedily wishes to covet. Instead, upon the banishment of Godfrey, The First Elden Lord, he caught the eye of the elusive yet seraphic Queen Marika. The duality here is staggering — blinding gold verses deep, soothing night. Radagon did not marry Marika out of love, he married her out of duty born of fate. When Radagon left his wife, Rennala grew manic. She lost her mind, and this show of mental irresolution thus planted a seed of insurrection in her Carian devotees. She no longer cared for the school, and obsession befell her. The Raya Lucarians, those who did not seek the full moon but who instead were tempted by the allure of the stars and glintstone, locked Rennala within the library.

Upon his leave, Radagon endowed her with the Great Rune of the Unborn, and the egg she covets and obsesses over. This is a nice bit of feminine imagery — the egg representing a kind of womb as she wishes to have a child, to give life back to her dissenting Empyrean daughter who chose to sever her fate in death.

This is the state we find her in: broken, insane, a lack of wit for someone once admired upon comprehension for her intellect. This insanity is what links her to the tragic heroines of Shakespeare. Either through love or ambition, these women all tend to endure a kind of madness that impedes upon their femininity. When the king goes mad, he becomes dangerous and unpredictable — a formidable foe yet easy to fell. When his nameless wife endures the same, she has not the power of he, and so befalls a pathetic fate befitting her supposed weakness of sex. Lady Macbeth’s off-stage death, that which is spoken of once wherein Macbeth says:

“She should have died hereafter.” (5.5)

Meaning, she would have died regardless so what point is there to mourn her now? The woman is abandoned, both by the characters in the play but also by the audience. The Playwright does not intend for us to think about her any longer. She is dead, her work and impact has been fulfilled, she now will rot, unattended, left alone forevermore. I think this is interesting in Rennala’s case as it feels significant. She is our respec lady, and the player certainly has more of a focus on her than any other character, but her actual existence is entirely without meaning. She sits alone in her library, the doors are open but she will not leave — for she has a child to grow. We return when we need to change our stats, but otherwise all other quests that require this room are separate from her significance. Boc will pass away unfulfilled if we oblige his shallow wish, and not his heartfelt desire, to the obliviousness of the Queen. Even Sellen, now a Graven Mass, will make no impact on Rennala.

Just like Lady Macbeth, this woman — once the towering, formidable Queen of Caria — is given over to a death-like fate. She might as well be dead for her child will surely never grow and her mind will never recover. Abandoned by her husband, her children… and now we, who meekly disturbs her, only to return her, unaffected, to her place in the library.

This is interesting narratively, for it is not often we make zero difference to the lives of Fromsoft’s bosses. Mostly, they are killed by us, but Rennala seems to be a rare exception. We do not change her at all. We cannot change her, whether that is from the strength of her witlessness, or simply that she does not wish to change. If that is the case, then the Lands Between has certainly not stripped her of her strength. The woman who fought off the Leyndell army led by Godfrey, who communed with the full moon, who ruled over Liurnia for however many decades — a broken heart was enough to destroy her… or did it?

Now I am not saying this is canon, and I do understand this is a bit of a tangent, but just bear with me. As I say, there are no other bosses, to my knowledge, that are totally and wholly unaffected by our efforts. They are either killed, cursed, or they flee; on rare occasions submit. Rennala’s mental fortitude did not escape her, but it changed and metamorphosed into something different. At her abandonment, her mind did not necessarily break… but simply changed priority. Instead of the rule of her land, she focused instead on the creation of new life. Like the Albinaurics, Rennala is attempting to birth life from something beyond the natural cycle. Something manmade but competent.

Likely Radagon protected Liurnia from another invasion as he became Elden Lord, but even after the Shattering and the apocalypse ensued… no Lenydell forces sit comfortably in the heart of Liurnia. At her imprisonment, Caria did not suddenly collapse.

I hope you see what I am trying to say here. Simply that there is a possibility that Rennala is, unlike Lady Macbeth, she did not lose her mind completely, succumbed to feminine weakness as Lady Macbeth feared, but instead found something to direct her intellect toward. This is purely just food for thought, nothing concrete and certainly nothing I am trying to argue is absolutely without a doubt canon. But that is the joy of these games, interpreting headcanons and concepts that may not be intended, but are still fun to think about.

I think, finally, there is also something to be said about the supernatural themes of Macbeth. Famously a tale of the occult, it includes witches, illusions, predictions and, in a way, spells. As I mentioned previously, Lady Macbeth calls upon malignant spirits to rid her of her “feeble sex”. Furthermore, as does Macbeth himself, tempted by the desire for knowledge to prepare for the future. Whether these predictions were true, or simply set into motion a string of events caused by his ambition, is a question debated for quite literally centuries. But whatever the case, this magic caused the downfall of them both.

Macbeth was first performed in either 1606, or 1611, during the reign of James I. This was a time of ardent superstition and tragedy, the 1600s being a century of utter anguish and brutality. From the infamous witch trials to the Great Fire of London and the Black Death — it was a time of misfortune. Thus, misfortune ignited superstitions. As tragedy erupted, people needed someone, or something, to blame. NotwithstandingThe English Civil War running riot in the middle of this century too, religious mania was at an all-time high from the very beginning. So, for a play to depict these horrifying concepts so blatantly was certainly not helping to antagonise genuine fears of witches and dark magic.

In a similar vein, the golden aura of incantations are the direct antithesis to the dark, intellectual-borne sorceries studied within Liurnia. Incantations are fuelled by faith — faith to any deity. Sorceries, however, are entirely empirical. They are the science and reason that rivals religion in our world. In Macbeth, this heretical magic causes the downfall of both our tragic protagonists, and it is likely a comment on the danger of the occult; it is not depicted in a positive light. Further emphasised by the fact that Macbeth is set in the 12th century, when being pagan or atheist was a crime punishable by death — heresy, blasphemy.

My comparison here, then, is that the sorceries of Elden Ring do have connotations of the occult and witchcraft. Ranni takes the form of a snow witch, and it is a witch who taught her her cold-affiliated sorceries. Whereas incantations are borne of faith — there is a distinct duality here.

Now I am not saying this is a perfect comparison, and a few of these theories and ideas may be a bit of a stretch for some people, but that is what I do on this account! I find unlikely interpretations and highlight them as best I can, giving the evidence I can provide with no claim that these are absolutely 100% canon and true. The same way a book can be interpreted in any number of ways as a result of our experiences in life — all separate from the author’s intention — so too can video game narratives.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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There is a strange ecosystem in the Bloodborne fandom when it comes to the objectivity of its themes. Lovecraft gets brought up, and we all agree — as is I believe confirmed by Miyazaki himself — that this is an objective inspiration. Gothic literature, too, can be attributed to the aesthetic and narrative. But femininity always seems to be one of those motifs that gets brought up often, yet often still ruffles some feathers. I have heard very apt criticism of the famous Visceral Femininity video essay by HoneyBat, and often here the arguments against Bloodborne’s femininity using the flaws of this essay as their ammunition. It is quite a base and empty argument “ah, well, this famous essay on the topic is not perfect, thus I do not believe the game is about femininity”. Furthermore, I have heard the argument that “ah, but it cannot be about femininity because it is, instead, about Lovecraftian folklore”. That, too, is an empty argument, for media can absolutely be about two things at once. The game isn’t wholly Lovecraftian, in that there are aspects, especially in early game and other areas like Cainhurst, that align not with Lovecraft but other literature. The feminism is very present in this game, and it is quite objectively “viscerally feminine” in the way it presents femininity and women, and alludes to different aspects of our experiences. You can’t really argue “nah, not about women. It’s about Lovecraft!” Because two things can be true at once.
Bloodborne is Lovecraftian sure, but not exclusively Lovecraftian.

I often seen people fighting their corner for the feminist side of Bloodborne’s narrative, and they’re often pushed back by either ignorance or blindness. Femininity is, unfortunately, still a rather uncomfortable topic for those who believe themselves entirely outside of it. I wonder if they then see it as a threat to their favourite media if people begin to say this theme is prevalent. On first playthrough, no I would say if you are not looking for it, you will not be able to see just how prominent it is. But it is there.

Now I want to say a few things before we begin to hopefully quell any doubts. I am not saying, and will never expect, people who do not desire to interact with these themes in the games and media they enjoy to do so. You do not need to be aware of and in-tune with every single motif and theme in everything you play and watch. If you love Bloodborne because the combat is awesome and the visual aesthetic is enticing, then that is just as valid and no one is forcing you to interact with these themes. But, if you didn’t notice… on this channel, I analyse my favourite media to within an inch of its life. It’s a bit of a curse as I cannot watch films now without looking for symbolism lol. But regardless, if you don’t want to interact with the themes I will present here, this video probably isn’t for you. You can be ignorant to them yourself, that’s fine, but what isn’t fine is trying to say they are not there and, as someone actually commented on my very first video ever, “get your politics out of my video games”. Forced ignorance is a choice one can make, but to then argue against that which you are blind to is the definition of being a dick.

Furthermore, this video is absolutely going to be about exploring the monstrous femininity of Bloodborne, but it will also be exploring gender as a whole. Cupcakesouls explores this theme in far more depth than I on their channel, but I wanted to include viewpoints from a range of other people who have different experiences with gender. I dedicate a chapter to this as I know I can only really explore femininity from ONE viewpoint, mine. I asked my discord server for their own experiences with the game’s exploration of gender and was thrilled to see how many people resonated and felt seen by this game. Thus, I myself will not be talking at length about the way in which it has resonated with so many other people as I do not feel qualified to do so — instead, I’ll let the people who have had different experiences to me take the lead there.

I hope you all enjoy this. Also if you have watched my Monstrous Women of Resident Evil video, do skip ahead to the next chapter as I am just going to explain the origins of the monster once more, the exact same as I did in that video. But otherwise, thank you everyone for watching, subbing and liking the video! Now… let us begin…

When you think of monsters in literature, some of you may think of Frankenstein’s creature — an intelligent, yet greatly damaged being forged by mortal hands trying to play god. He looks a monster, sure, but within he is as mortal and vulnerable as the rest of us. Calling him a vile name is ignorance, and I do not think he is a good example of a monster, but of a mortal. Some may think of Dracula or Mr Hyde — both preternatural entities borne of something predatory and sinful; the latter literally coming into existence via the attempt to separate man from sin (in a similar way to Dorian Gray’s portrait, the manifestation of fault and flaw).

Some may go all the way back and think of Basilisks, Grendel, the one-eyed cyclops Polyphemus, Chimera, or The Green Knight. Monsters have existed in perpetuum in all manner of spoken poetry, engraved tales and written adventures; and, in all manner of folklore, myth and faith. Ancient Greek Mythology alone is laden in beings one could attribute the word “monster” to: Hydras, Medusa, Minotaurs, the aforementioned Chimera all make up this bestiary. Of course, “monster” is a huge umbrella term — are there any attributing factors that make something unquestionably a “monster”? Is it anything inhuman? Not of this earth? Ah, now we’re going down a real rabbit hole of morality and what makes someone human — how murderers are often described as “monsters”. I think I’ll stop this thought here, but I will continue it in a later chapter.

That is to say also, monsters are often borne of our surroundings; often in folklore and fables to warn children not to be naughty or go off alone. In Native American folklore, each monster is forest-bound and verdant. Wendigos stalk the woodlands, Iroquois with their skin of stone, and Mishipeshu who loom beneath the water’s surface just to name a few.

I could go in depth for hours as I scour each and every example of monsters in culture and literature around the world. There are genuinely countless depictions, so instead, I will focus on one particular rather dizzying epic poem written by Tudor poet Edmund Spenser:

The Faerie Queene.

Edmund Spenser wrote The Faeire Queene, an incredibly dense epic poem and one of the longest in the English Language, as an allegorical tale following several knights that represent different virtues. He greatly revered Elizabeth I, and wrote this piece as a pseudo-Arthurian adventure with different interchanging perspectives.

Monsters are a prominent aspect to this poem, and so I will refer to John Florio’s definition in his work “A Worlde of Wordes” to which he writes

“a monster or any deformed creature, or misshapen thing that exceedeth, lacketh or is disordred in natural form; any thing done against the course of nature; a monstrous and incredible thing, a marvellous sign, a strange sight.”.

Monsters in the early Renaissance were less defined as in our modern day, and could mean “physically deformed, a violation of nature, or a sign that needs interpreting”.
We reject monsters not because they’re completely other, but because we recognise something of ourselves in them - empathy, the uncanny.

The Faerie Queene has been used, thus, by a handful of contemporary fantasy writers due to its in-depth English mythology. Authors such as Neil Gaiman and J.R.R Tolkien took inspiration from this work, and it is safe to say that — like a ripple effect — other pieces of media have also, intentionally or not, been inspired by Spenser’s poem.

As it is such a long poem, plenty of inhuman creatures appeared throughout Spenser’s piece. His taxonomy stems from monstrous animals such as dragons, to giants, monstrous humans, human-animal composites and what’s known as “automata”, or something that is inanimate but still lives.

It is important to look at the origins of such concepts as these as some inspirations can appear in unlikely places. Monsters, in the way they are defined by Spenser’s definitions, are all born of creativity, experience, and surroundings. It is rare to see a beast not heralding some kind of uncanny connection, as it is difficult to truly create something, visualise it on paper, that is made up of aspects that one has never seen before and does not exist on this mortal plane.

I bring us now to the first focus of our discussion:

Part the First: The Daughter & The Spider

“Deep sorrow must have been the inmate of our bosoms; fraud must have lain in wait for us; the artful must have deceived us; sickening doubt and false hope must have chequered our days; hilarity and joy, that lap the soul in ecstasy, must at times have possessed us. Who that knows what “life” is, would pine for this feverish species of existence? I have lived. I have spent days and nights of festivity; I have joined in ambitious hopes, and exulted in victory: now,—shut the door on the world, and build high the wall that is to separate me from the troubled scene enacted within its precincts. Let us live for each other and for happiness; let us seek peace in our dear home, near the inland murmur of streams, and the gracious waving of trees, the beauteous vesture of earth, and sublime pageantry of the skies. Let us leave “life,” that we may live.” (Mary Shelley, The Last Man).

Deep sorrow, indeed, for these two lonely gods do not even attack when you approach. Passive they lie, idle and, in Ebrietas’ case, lowering her head in quiet contemplation. They are, upon the surface, ghastly-looking creatures. Eldritch and unearthly. But they are, notably, women. Ebrietas is a daughter, the source of the Old Blood and a long-grounded being who only yearns for the beyond; her home. I think her title specifically being a daughter, not a mother, not a sister, not even just a “being”, is notable to her character. She is purposefully female. Of course, not in our philosophy of gender (which is entirely a concept borne of our minds and society’s progression), but she is, in some manner, the female of her species.

This is a trope found across media that depicts creatures of differing descent to us, for the tropes and expectations of a woman are purely and only developed by the human race. Ebrietas is a great example of what we mean when we say monstrous femininity; of what we love about Bloodborne’s depiction of the female sex. Ebrietas is animal-like, yet is supposedly of a higher consciousness than we, yet she is not dressed in pink nor delicate and feeble. She is unquestionably female, yet she is disgusting, objectively, to look at. Writhing tentacles, piscine flesh that looks sodden or… slimy, tiny pathetic eyes and a face of… macaroni… I think… she is not depicted as something gentle and “feminine”, but is still undoubtedly… a daughter.

To have a creature be of the female sex while also looking like this is an absolute zephyr of fresh air. Souls as is explores gender, sexuality and feminism in fascinating ways, but Bloodborne really delves deep into the abyss of monstrous women. Ebrietas, like the other women of this game, is used for her blood. She is a fount, respected not, her waters stolen and her freedom revoked for the selfish sake of humanity. She is a victim of man’s greed… the same as every other woman in this game. Visually, Ebrietas is far different from those other women of Yharnam. But by nature, she is the exact same. Her monstrosity is strangely human — mortal. She does not present like a god, but is incredibly corporeal. She bleeds, effects the environment around her, and can call upon godly abilities not unlike the more arcane-focused NPCs. Beyond her origin, Ebrietas is no different to the likes of Adella, Eirleen, etc. She is a woman trying to survive, trying to do what demands of her species. There is an ardent tragedy to this. Every single female in this game is ardently tragic.

Moving over to Rom, our dear Vacuous Spider.

It is speculated that Rom, before she ascended — she was once human, after all — worked incredibly closely with Micolash. Upon her death do we get transported to the Unseen Village. This was a location used by the Mensis Scholars as a kind of experiment. They made vile amalgamations out of the citizens and kidnapped hunters and innocents alike, entrapping them in the Hypogean Gaol to be become the focus of later experiments.

“Ritual secret broken, seek the nightmare newborn”.

Now before we delve too deep into her as a monstrous woman, I do want to pick apart this phrase. “Ritual secret” refers to the Mensis Ritual — killing Rom does not stop it of course, but it implies that our hunter has now been given the information needed to find their elusive Paleblood and conclude their story. Thematically, it makes sense as our route, despite it being rather vague, is not arbitrary. We are initially told by Gilbert to visit the Cathedral Ward — that it may provide what we are seeking. We do so, defeat formidable foes, and are led in the direction of Byrgenwerth. Had we not discovered Rom, this would have been a dead end. It is notably a barrier — a stone fence standing between us and the pale moon beyond. But upon her defeat, we break the ritual secret and are enlightened to our next task. Notably, too, do the phases of the moon align with these narrative beats. The eventide guides us to the Cathedral Ward, the full moon guides us to Byrgenwerth, the blood moon guides us to the Nightmare.

Finally, it says “seek the nightmare newborn”. I adore this double entendre — it could either mean the Nightmare, newly born, aligning with the rise of the crimson moon above. Or, and most aptly, the nightmare newborn — as in, Mergo.

Anyway, forgive the tangent. What we are focusing on here is the bloated figure of what remains of Rom. She stands, as Ebrietas, passive and idle within a great pale lake. She is, not unlike Radahn, holding back the truth of the world. Maintaining an arcane barrier, but she herself is almost helpless. Not unlike the One Reborn, Rom is a failed amalgamation — ascension when it has gone terribly wrong. She is vacuous, brainless, or as the Japanese translation directly means: the Foolish Spider. I argue that foolish means something wildly different from vacuous. Foolish is more of an insult, foolish in that she has made a mistake. Vacuous means more so that of something… mindless, like an animal. You would label a beast vacuous… not foolish.

Furthermore, I would argue against her vacuity. She is aware of our hostility, and even calls forth great shards of ice in defence. I would argue that Rom is not vacuous at all, but fighting two wars within her mind. That of the beast, and that of kin. Of vacuity and intelligence; she is foolish, but not helpless.

Rom, despite her outward appearance… she is a mother. She has a brood of spiders that protect her with their lives. Surrounding her kindly, keeping her from harm’s way. They only appear when we attack, in wait for their mother to be in danger. It is, as with Ebrietas, tragic. She was once a scholar of great renown, now used only for a purpose unbefitting of humanity. Her sense of self is disregarded, and she is seen as a foolish creature left entrapped in the lake, forced to maintain a secret and keep the eldritch truth under dire cover. Like every other woman in Yharnam, Rom is used, her being disregarded, her purpose only being the use of her body and arcane ability.

Part the Second: The Suicide

“We can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest, struggling at length to blind unreasoning panic - now mercifully stilled, thank God - might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion as it had before.” (Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca).

I will mention in more detail, and have very briefly touched on, the monstrosity of an inward constitution beyond just the physical horrors one can see on the surface. Lady Maria is a monstrous woman ruined by guilt, turned into an imprisoned protector of the massacre she endorsed. Of course, the question of who is the villain of Souls games is more complicated than one objective answer. Often, the playerbase agrees that it is the player themselves that are the “villains” of the story. Especially when it comes to bosses like the aforementioned Rom and Ebrietas, who do not attack until you do, it is hard to argue the opposite. But if we for a moment believe that we, the Hunter, are not the villains (which is easier to argue in the Old Hunter’s DLC wherein we release the curse of the Nightmare), and Lady Maria, one standing in our way, is, then we can see how her monstrosity came to be. She may be a villain in her pursuit to stop our goal, but her purpose was given to her from greater powers.

Lady Maria was an Old Hunter, one of the first to fight against the scourge of beasthood that began to ravage the crooked alleyways of Yharnam. Alongside Gehrman, her admirer, and a plethora of other hunters, she was tasked with travelling to the Fishing Hamlet wherein they had heard word of a Great One that the villagers claimed washed up on their shores. Whether the villagers killed her in her vulnerable, pregnant state, or she died from the complications of a miscarriage, we will never know, but it is notable to explain that Kos was not killed by the Old Hunters. Then you may wonder why she cursed them evermore? Because of their reckless defilement, heresy as they tore her premature child from her womb to experiment and defile.

The entire Fishing Hamlet is, of course, inspired by Lovecraft’s The Shadow Over Innsmouth. A cosmic deity existing upon a reef off the coast of a strange little fishing town whose citizens are selcouth and ghastly. A journalist visits and is immediately disturbed by their behaviour until he begins to feel threatened. The villagers of this little town are corrupted by the sheer presence of the being. Kos’ presence to the Hamlet villagers, in turn, likely also caused these piscine deformities. They revered her, worshipped her, likely all went mad in her arcane presence. So, the Old Hunters butchered the villagers, abducted them, for they were of dire importance if the Church will have any chance of gaining the ascension they so desire.

Lady Maria, to some degree, partook in this massacre, likely at the behest of her superiors beyond her own inclination. There is evidence to suggest she was a benevolent woman who was not naturally cruel and callous. The Research Hall patients all revere her and beg for her kindness. It is as though she is their mother, and they her desperate children. But she never, in this Nightmare, attends to them. She cannot, for she is bound to the Clocktower, ever in the presence of failed entities — life, cursed to never succeed in living; vile experiments at the hand of her superiors. She caused this, and her misery must be nigh unbearable.

But returning to her monstrosity, Lady Maria is of course unlike the physical deformations of Rom and Ebrietas, so her monstrosity stems from her character. In her pursuit to protect the secret of the nightmare at Kos’ behest, she turns callous and emotionless. Her tone when speaking to us is of boredom and quietude, not unlike her Doll counterpart we encounter in the Dream. She is subdued, likely having done this over and over again, reciting her words for the nth time just to deny access another Hunter’s wild curiosity. Those who enter her clocktower are more than likely doomed. The moment they step through the threshold, they are condemning themselves to an honest death. Lady Maria is a warrior, formidable and her prowess was likely known throughout the hierarchy of the Healing Church. Combat is all she can offer to the one she helped defile, this is why I think she specifically is the one guarding the Hamlet from our curious eyes.

I do not believe Maria was at all content with the deeds of the Church. Her guilt proves this, in the way she cast her beloved Rakuyo down a well in the Hamlet. What need would she have of being there for so long? She cast this weapon away likely in the same day she arrived and partook in the massacre. By obligation, she obeyed, but her conscience likely toiled until she could bear it no longer. Her casting away of her Rakuyo was the first step in her realising she cannot live with this unbearable weight of guilt. She did not kill herself immediately — I wonder if she actually quit her position as a Hunter after this tragedy and the trauma she endured. I can see it now, the way she argued violently with Gehrman who felt the same guilt, but was far less partial in expressing it. Perhaps, actually, he felt less guilt, in fact, for his morality may have been skewed by the Healing Church and their pursuit for ascension. He still begs Lawrence to save him from the Dream, after all. He likely did not decry the Church, but believed what they were doing was for the greater good of humanity.

Regardless, they argue in the midst of the market square wherein a well sits, hollow and gaping. Their altercation crescendos with a threat — “I will denounce this accursed Church. The horrors we have committed, the death — the endless death — we have begot! Gehrman, do you not see? We, murderers all, are heretics and fiends.” She is only met with a desperate plea to reconsider, or perhaps a repugnant retort.

“You are cowardice, Maria. Vileblooded cowardice that you cannot see the good in the blood we spill. Fiends, you say? Fiends are those who, more fish than human, begged for our mercy as if they deserved an ounce of it. No, they who act human but are not — you forget the creed we hunt by, the good we do in the name of the Church.”

She likely had no response, realising how no words could penetrate Gehrman’s callous exterior. Corrupted by the Church, the First Hunter was but a dog for his knowledge-obsessed masters. At the climax of the argument, Maria cast her Rakuyo into the well — tears streaming, will broken — and leaves the Hamlet to toil with her conscience until it breaks her evermore.

Lady Maria is less of a monster, and more of a tragedy. She manifests the concept of a fallen woman, a madwoman in the attic, that became a trope in the mid-19th century Gothic. But her deeds cannot be ignored. Like many women in Yharnam, Maria was forced into her monstrous identity by the guiding hands of men. She is the only one who overtly expresses her guilt, yet all the same, she had little choice but to oblige the weak wills of men.

Part the Third: The Prostitute, The Vampire & The Madwoman

“When I saw him look at me with lust, I dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from him, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.” (Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber)

Alike to Lady Maria, these three women are not overtly monstrous. Their appearances are pleasantly human in a world of beasts, but this is where we begin to talk about nuance. As I will mention later, monstrosity aligns with morality, and it is entirely a subjective topic. What is monstrous to some is benevolent to others; perhaps it is aligned a little with our bigotry too, but I will leave that thought for now.

I will start with Arianna. The prostitute of the Central Yharnam, she is met with only ridicule from all others but we. Outwardly, as the player, we can be as sympathetic and kind as as like, but the choices we have are limited and beyond the brief kindness we show in guiding her to the Oedon Chapel, we are otherwise quite distant. What is interesting about Bloodborne is that we do not know the inner workings of our character’s mind. We play as a blank slate, wordless and emotionless, and paste our own personality or canons upon them. We don’t matter, it is the world around us that we are interacting with as an outward player. So, we do not know what our character may be thinking as we butcher the writhing larvae Arianna just birthed.

Regardless, the monstrosity of Arianna is not so much in the objective… appearance, but in the way the world interacts with her. Everyone finds her repugnant, Adella to the point of murder, due to both her suspected ancestry and her occupation. Arianna is a prostitute, I do think she would have given more than just her body. Blood is more intoxicating than alcohol, and with the intimacy that stems from the giving of blood, likely Arianna offered her services in both physical pleasure and sanguine. This opens up another line of discussion then: why are the women of this game so very disregarded? Arianna is insulted due to her profession, Adella deems her own blood as lowly and has clearly been told that her worth is less than that of more “worthy” providers, and Annalise is the Woman in the Iron Mask, the prisoner simply because of her blood.

Annalise is hated, perhaps, because her blood has little worth. Her ambitions are great — and a woman with great ambitions is a threat to the careful balance of this Patriarchal city. By all accounts, Cainhurst is the opposite to Yharnam — it is matriarchal, their prejudice against the mainland is a result of the mainland’s prejudice against they, and they seem not to use women purely for their blood, but revere them and from the statues that sit within the castle. Annalise, to the rest of Yharnam, is monstrous due to her blood. She is vileblooded, a constitution so very heretical that a whole branch of the Healing Church was created to hunt and kill them. This aligns well with the subjectivity of monsters — that it is borne of bigotry when the reason for the hate is physical appearance of origin. Annalise represents the very physical subservience, forced in most cases, some women have to men. They endure an imprisonment at the hands of men. Annalise sits on a throne to a room of statues as her subjects; she is forced to cover her face with an iron mask she cannot take off. Her prison guard is a man who led the massacre of so many innocents — an entire bloodline, gone.

She is not entirely guiltless for her ambitions are to mother the child of a great one, and the way she is going about this is the sexual assault of hunters. Why do you think Blood Dregs look so very… sperm like? Annalise is predatory, dangerous, a woman whose adversity does not stop her from pursuing her goal. This is another example of why Bloodborne is inherently Feminist. It does not preach only what I have been talking about here, the visceral femininity, but also the problem with a patriarchal system as is. That we have a woman who is implied to encourage sexual assault for her arcane ambitions, getting sperm from male hunters, is a fascinating concept; Bloodborne does not pull its punches the deeper one looks into the sexual and gender-specific readings of the game.

This, in turn, is not unlike our dear Fauxsefka, or Fake Iosefka who, early on, replaces the genuinely benevolent real Iosefka in her clinic. While one desires only to help, but sets her boundary that she cannot, dear hunter, open her door for you in the midst of this hunt; lest she let in any infection. The fake Iosefka uses this kindness for her own gain, the same ambition as Annalise — to birth a god. I think we see more of this monstrous woman if we visit her once the Blood Moon has risen. She will be found writhing, twitching, upon an operating table; on all fours, she will explain that she is with child. The gods have chosen here, you see.

“God I’m nauseous... Have you ever felt this? It’s progressing. I can see things... I knew it, I’m different. I’m no beast... I... Oh... God, it feels awful... but, it proves that I’m chosen. Don’t you see? How they writhe, writhe inside my head... It’s... rather... rapturous...” (Imposter Iosefka)

She is another woman turned mad by the presence of the Great Ones, but not beastly. The effects on their psyche is far more arcane. The imposter Iosefka is a madwoman, likely desperate from the beginning for a child, turned most ardently insane by this writhing creature growing within her. But alas, as I say, she is not beastly. No, there is only one woman in this game who truly and objectively endures violent beasthood…

Part the Fourth: The Vicar & The Crow

“Forgive me, if I seem to teach, who am as ignorant as the trees of the mountain, but those who learn much do but skim the face of knowledge; they seize the laws, they conceive the dignity of the design - the horror of the living fact fades from their memory. It is we who sit at home with evil who remember, I think, and are warned and pity.” (Robert Louis Stevenson, Olalla).

Now, I know that at least a few of you have thought of an immediate pushback to my claim that “no woman endure the vacuity of beasthood” and that “men are the only lycanthropic beasts in the game”. Vicar Amelia exists, after all! Now allow me to explain just why I think my point still stands. When I say “only men are beasts”, I wonder if I could argue beyond the realm of sex, but gender. These are, if you don’t realised, two different things. Sex is what you are assigned upon birth, biologically you cannot change your sex as it goes down to your chromosomes. You can, however, change your gender — that which you present to the world, aligning with society’s expectations of feminine and masculine. Now that’s as far as I need to go into gender theory — if you want to know more, there is plenty of information out there. But what is important to note is that there is a difference between gender and sex. I wonder if it isn’t too much of a stretch to claim that Amelia’s beasthood stems from her masculinity?

Now wait, wait, before you run to the comments wondering just what I’m talking about, let me try and argue my corner. There is something to say about the biological sex of the Yharnamites — of course, the men in this game cannot get pregnant, and so they are of little use to the Great Ones who yearn for surrogates. This is why the women of this game are so important. But I wonder if Amelia represents those women who cannot get pregnant. Whether it is due to a genetic defect, ovulation disorders or the nightmare that is Endometriosis (trust me… I know the horrors), some women just cannot get pregnant. Could Amelia be one of those? She is a vicar, one of the heads of the Healing Church, and upon our approach will she whisper this prayer:

“Seek the old blood. Let us pray... let us wish... to partake in communion. Let us partake in communion... and feast upon the old blood. Our thirst for blood satiates us, soothes our fears. Seek the old blood... but beware the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young. The foul beasts will dangle nectar and lure the meek into the depths. Remain wary of the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young. Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.” (Amelia’s prayer)

She is spouting the same mantras of the Church that any other member would, but it is predatory and sly. She wishes to seek the Old Blood, but without the vice of men — they are weak willed and frail. This is not unlike the way women have been described in stereotype — weak and frail. In the society the Yharnamites have upheld, Amelia is manifesting a masculine outlook. She is mirroring her male peers and superiors, and is merciless in her culling of the weak. Her use of “us” too makes me think she has preached this to other women in her class. A secret band of women within the church festering the same desires, yet are without the weakness of men. It is true though — if the women of Yharnam wish to be surrogates to the Great Ones, what need have they of men?

I believe Amelia turns bestial due to this ambition and that alone. She doesn’t wish to be pregnant like Iosefka nor Annalise, but to take of the Old Blood and ascend to higher knowledge — the same as men. She is masculine in this world, using her femininity to manipulate the wills of men and get what she wishes. Either that, or as I say, she cannot get pregnant in the first place. I don’t know the ins and outs of… Great One sex… but I’m going to assume that if a woman already can’t get pregnant, the Great Ones will not be able to help that. The logic being that if they could through some arcane, cosmic, goop magic… then they would also be able to get men pregnant too.

Regardless, I think Amelia is a good example of From’s storytelling abilities. I often hear people critique their storytelling due to its vagueness, but I disagree. I think it is purposefully vague, yet still woven enough to not be entirely unintelligible. Amelia is a lot of interpretation and guesswork, but her intention seems obvious enough. Her pendant, too, proves this devotion to ascension:

“This pendant, passed down among the vicars who head the Healing Church, is a reminder of the cautionary adage. To reveal the adage, words that will open the gates of Byrgenwerth.” (Gold Pendant)

However, there is a story that is not quite so vague. That of Eileen The Crow, the old woman, the Hunter of Hunters.

There is a strange stereotype that we have not quite left behind in media — and that is the role of old women. In society, elderly women are often disregarded due to their inability to bear children. To those psychos who believe women have one job and one alone, they see post-menopause women as entirely useless; god forbid you are childless too. It is a vile outlook, one entirely inhuman, but sadly this has also translated to horror.

There’s a good essay on this called Who’s Scared of the Old Lady In The Nightgown? The author, Althea, states that:

“In live action, there is also the old woman in The Shining (1982), who initially appears as a conventional young lady before transforming into her true form—which, to be honest, what about this transformation warrants any horror? Initially, Jack is drawn to the woman’s younger form, but then becomes utterly disgusted upon seeing her true appearance in the mirror. Does this then allude that there is disgust associated with the old woman’s body? […] Simply put, the film / television industry has presented the woman’s loss of youth to be something undesirable and even terrifying.” (Althea, The Backlog)

Witches, hags, and old women have been so bastardised in media that we almost associate them with horror. In a world confusing and ever moving faster than you can keep up, I don’t think many old women appreciate this stance on their age. It is interesting that we also don’t see this kind of treatment with old men — it is because of the innate consequence of the Witch trials. Witches, as we know, do not exist but still do we associate old women with the evil stepmother, the luring hag, all — quite worryingly — the enemy and predator of children. As Althea says, Hollywood has villainised a woman’s loss of beauty and youth, that we should FEAR being old, and old women in turn. That they are somehow evil and dangerous. Can you tell that this really pisses me off? (Writing Loran was getting increasingly annoyed as she was writing this lol).

This is the state of our world. Where old women, being old, means to no longer being beautiful, and many people fear it more than just the fear of the inevitable end. Young women fear to age and go to extreme lengths to stop this natural, unstoppable process, and it is all the fault of men telling us we need to remain beautiful or we are worthless. So… to force myself back on topic… the fact we have Eileen, an older woman who is one of the most iconic and badass characters in the entire game, is refreshing and once more proves that this game IS feminist. She is a formidable foe, a strong warrior who in turn battles and kills her own brethren who have yet turned beastly. It is a fight with the mind too — and her indifference to us is a result of her having to kill so many friends in the past. Eileen is not monstrous, but she can also turn mad in the end should our choices lead her there.

Part the Fifth: The Queen & The Mother

“She had a ghostly pallor and a dreadful expression, she wore clothes that were out of keeping with the styles of the present-day; she had kept her distance from me and she had not spoken. Something emanating from her still, silent presence, in each case by a grave, had communicated itself to me so strongly that I had felt indescribable repulsion and fear. And she had appeared and then vanished in a way that surely no real, living, fleshly human being could possibly manage to do.” (Susan Hill, The Woman In Black).

She stands wretched, yearning toward the crimson moon, watching — ever watching — as we near the secret of her woe. Queen Yharnam is one of the most questioned character for new players as, unless you specifically look for it, her story is hidden deep in the Chalices. Queen Yharnam is the Woman In White, her pallor is ghastly and her dress is matrimonial; she is a phantom, a ghost haunting the player until the crescendo of the game. This is a gothic trope found in literature inspired by traditional Gothicism; something so insanely feminine — a woman in a wedding dress, pregnant or enduring a miscarriage — presenting as something to fear. But I do not think this is necessarily an insult to femininity in the context of Bloodborne. Yharnam is a tragic figure, one we must fight at the very bottom of the dungeons, and whom follows us throughout the game, but she is not a caricature of womanhood. Plenty of people, me included, find the fact we fight a pregnant woman — she is pregnant, fighting with arcane desperation, and is pretty difficult — is so insanely affirming to lots of women. There is nothing more badass than this.

Yharnam is a monstrous women at the very literal. She is bloody, a sight of horror upon the surface but deeply burdened with nuance and meaning beneath. She is a woman tortured into what she has become, a phantasm of her misery; an embodiment of her ruin. She was the victim of men’s greed once more, and her pregnancy is the cause of this supposed monstrosity. A most objective victim of avarice.

Queen Yharnam, however, is not the best example of this monstrous women concept as she is, inherently, an innocent in the events of Bloodborne. I want to then talk about one I am far more passionate about: our dear albatross, Mother Kos.

She lies motionless, a corpse, upon a pale shore. Once a yearning creature of cosmic origin, the cosmos that lies deep beneath the waves, now a feeble cadaver waiting for the tide to carry her back home. Bloodborne has such an emphasis on motherhood that it is quite funny when people try to argue its feminine themes are minor; it must take real effort to be so blind. Now it must be said that everything in the DLC is supposed to feel far more… unreal and dreamlike (or, more aptly, nightmarish) than the Waking World. It is not real. The Orphan we fight on the beach is not the real Orphan that was taken and defiled, experimented on by the Church. It is the essence, the soul of this poor being. The same can be said for every aspect of this place — all just shadows of true events. However, I do like that the developers chose to give Kos a beautifully human face. Her proportions are strange and off, and her entire body is as piscine as the hamlet villagers enduring curse, but she is so… beautiful.

One could make the argument that she is a monster. She is unnatural to us, after all, and cast the curse upon our ancestors, but I do not think so. She was, like Queen Yharnam, a pregnant being who falls to the greed of man. Sure, her life was not forfeit by the Old Hunters, but her honour and child was. There is nothing more terrifying than a mother’s wrath. This is visceral motherhood, the wrath of Mother Kos:

“Byrgenwerth... Byrgenwerth... Blasphemous murderers... Blood-crazed fiends... Atonement for the wretches... By the wrath of Mother Kos... Mercy for the poor, wizened child... Mercy, oh please...Atonement for the wretches... Lay the curse of blood upon them, and their children, and their children’s children, for evermore. Each wretched birth will plunge each child into a lifetime of misery. Mercy for the poor, wizened child... Let the pungence of Kos cling, like a mother’s devotion...” (Fishing Hamlet Priest)

This is where I think the hunters fail. They view women purely for their function; to provide blood, to be surrogates to godly children. They do not respect their humanity, them as a being beyond their supposed purpose. They do not see the mother, the woman, they only see the offspring, the blood. This is where I believe the motivation came from to callously defile Kos’ corpse. They did not see a creature of reverence, only a tool that can be used to their advantage. Quite literally, they objectify the women of Yharnam and the females they encounter of godly origin. To the Healing Church, women are nothing more than tools. That is another reason why I believe Amelia mirrored the “masculinity” of Yharnam, and thus endured beasthood.

Part the Sixth: The Contributions

“There is neither source nor end, for all things are in the Centre of Time. As all the stars may be reflected in a round raindrop falling in the night: so too do all the stars reflect the raindrop. There is neither darkness nor death, for all things are, in the Light of the Moment, and their end and their beginning are one.” (Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness).

Now, for this final chapter, I wanted to get the input of my discord server members; people who have different outlooks, have had different experiences, and view the world different to me. I am only one woman, and do not claim to be the oracle for this topic. So, I thought it beneficial to include other perspectives as a bit of a bonus chapter. If you want to get involved with contribution parts of my articles and videos like this, please do join my discord server linked in my Linktree! With that out of the way, we’ll start off with the ever-diligent Oops.

She says that:

“It is simple to state that Bloodborne has its fair share of monstrous women. From the bestial to the eldritch to the painfully human, their monstrosity is inseparable from their femininity in one way or another. Whether it is their appearance, their behaviour, or their motivations, each of these women represent traits we consider feminine. Femininity, of course, is socially defined, and what is deemed feminine has changed over time. Yet monstrosity is a matter of perspective, too, is it not? To a loving mother, even a malformed child is a precious thing. To a bigoted man like Lovecraft, a person with dark skin would be a terrifying sight. As a trans woman, I am extremely aware that there are those who would call me a monster. So what does it truly mean to be monstrous?” (@Oopsallstupid)

I adore this perspective immediately. The question of what a monster is was explored in my introduction, and I think it is important to define when writing essays like this. It is entirely subjective, and though I only went through the literary origins, there is a real life impact of “monsters”. As Oops says, a monster could be anything and anyone. Morally, a murderer would be a monster to many people; a particularly ghastly condition that distorts the face of someone may be a monster to those less empathetic; or, even a single human could be a monster to a mouse. Subjectivity is important to note. She goes on to explain that:

“There are comparatively few feminine or female beasts in Bloodborne, but we find no shortage of women who are deemed monstrous in some way. […] It is not until we encounter Vicar Amelia that we find a feminine monster... unless of course we consider the Witches of Hemwick, or the Blood-Starved Beast, or the female beast patients in Old Yharnam, or even Arianna, Adella, or the fake Iosefka. How many of these do you consider monstrous? Some are obviously beasts or otherwise malformed, yet Arianna would be considered monstrous by the Executioners because of her Vileblood heritage. Adella can murder Arianna out of bigotry and jealousy, while the fake Iosefka performs monstrous experiments. Ultimately two of these women become pregnant with the child of a Great One. […] Are any of them monsters, or are they just victims?” (@Oopsallstupid)

This is where the question of empathy and morality comes from. The perfect villains are those which you can relate to and sympathise with. All of these people you may fight, all of these monsters can kill you, yet there is the question of… why? Why are you fighting them? Because they are simply ghastly? Rom, we kill to unlock the secret of the Unseen Village, to gain insight, but who put her there? In harm’s way? Men. Ebrietas, we kill to delve into the Great Isz Chalice — but for any other reason? Call it a mercy kill, but she clearly does not wish to die. She wishes to return to the Cosmos — to her home. Who are the victims in this story — are there any?

“If my point is not clear, allow me to state it plainly. Monstrosity is as subjective a concept as femininity. Gender is a construct, and so is our idea of a monster. Monsters are those things we consider unnatural and frightful. Whether we define monsters by their appearances or by their actions depends on what we find unnatural and frightful. For my part, I cannot bring myself to see Rom or Ebrietas or Kos as monsters. They may be eldritch, unknowable in some profound way, but they are not monsters. No more so than I am a monster for being transgender. Nor is Arianna a monster for being a descendant of the Vilebloods. The woman who murders and replaces Iosefka, then experiments on anyone sent to the clinic, though? I would call her a monster because she does monstrous things with gleeful abandon.” (@Oopsallstupid)

This, I think, is why so many transgender people do resonate with the story of Bloodborne. I often get trans people in my comments of certain videos of mine explaining the way this game has inspired and unlocked something within them. Many even go so far as to claim Bloodborne is, to some extent, a reason why they realised they are trans. It is that transgression, that exploration into the unknown, but that acceptance of the unknown. When we see such depravity, we then can see how we do or do not mirror it in our reality. I want to highlight what this commenter said beneath my “Bloodborne Is For The Girls” video as I think it a good embodiment of what I mean here:

“Bloodborne made me trans, it presented exactly what I disliked about being a man, the beastly nature, the greed, the entitlement to something that isn’t theirs and not even asking to partake in it with another but instead defiling it in order to find the root cause so they could take and harness it for themselves and then call that progress. And then it presented me with a whole host of feminine role models and their mistakes and sacrafices too, Lady maria, Kos, the Doll, Ebrietas, Rom, Queen Annalise and then the failure and greed of the men while showing good male role models like Djura, Valtr, and maybe Gehrman […] figures that show growth in fighting what the church and by extension yharnam has become.

”All of this to say that this game has shaped my life in a way no other piece of media has, that womenhood is more than birthing, or being subservient to men, or just beautiful but it’s grotesque and there’s beauty in righteous destruction and annihilation. I tend to ramble on but I just am glad there’s others that experienced this profoundness for the themes in this game and learned recently that my experience also isn’t a solitary one and that others have also realized that they’re trans through this game.” (@PowderkegHuntress)

Finally, Oops says that:

“No one is born a monster, yet anyone could become one in the eyes of those around them. But even in becoming a monster, that monster remains the person it was before. As an example, transformation into beasthood is not merely degeneration into something unrecognizable. Instead, beasthood accentuates a person’s most fundamental traits into the most aggressive interpretation. For the Yharnamites, it is their fear of outsiders and beasts which leads them to attack us so hatefully. Vicar Amelia clings to her medallion and even prays for healing despite becoming an enormous beast that tears us apart with her claws. Even if we change in some fundamental way, we are still ourselves in so many others. Please remember that, for your own sake and for the sake of those around you. Sometimes the “monsters” are just victims suffering under a system that exploits, abuses, and discards them. To those in power, the most monstrous thing a woman can do is fight back.” (@Oopsallstupid)

Moving on a bit, I also wanted to get the perspective not just from women, but also men too. I think it is important to emphasise that the feminism I and, hopefully, most of you align with is not the superiority of women over men. It is the balance and equality of genders. I do not write these essays to attack men, but as a woman I do not want to dive into the masculinity of Bloodborne as I do not feel qualified to do so. But, I’m sure if you believe the oppos ite here, you haven’t actually read the essay before leaving your angry comment lol. Boxer actually asked me a very interesting question not long back

“The male perspective on Bloodborne is kinda specific too, a lot of the men are shown as either blood-drunk and frenzied or full on beasts. Micolash has intelligence, perhaps too much, and is reduced from a scholar to a madman (which isn’t exclusive to him as a MAN, Fauxsefka is just as crazy from the Choir), but I am wondering how those male-focused perspectives resonate on your end as a woman.” (@Boxer)

I raise this to other women watching this too. But my answer would be likely the same as men’s if the question was swapped; I don’t really resonate with them. I can understand and empathise, but as a woman, I cannot resonate with this psychology. I wonder if this is different for any other women or any other genders, but along with my interest being primarily women (in any facet to be honest, I prefer female writers to male for example, not to say I avoid male writers, but I certainly resonate more with the women), along with that, I do not think I can empathise as much with the men and their specific masculinity; less their character, more their gender.

Anyway, Boxer says that:

“If we’re going to look at the monster idea through a gendered lens, the typical trope IS to expect men to become a monster. Rage, lust, greed, a need to conquer, dominate and destroy if none of the others are capable. If you told someone about a character who did these things and then asked the gender? Most would probably say they were male. A mad king, an abusive husband, a politician letting power blind him to all sympathy.

“Bloodborne’s whole perspective, coming FROM the male point-of-view, delivers the shock that a woman can reach that same level of monstrous depravity and perhaps even surpass it. Like Oops said, look at Amelia, a bigger, fiercer beast than Gascoigne was. Lady Maria’s monstrous actions were so extreme, she ended up sobering and killing herself out of guilt. Laurence started the entire Church concept, but it was people like Amelia and Adella who would kill for their new worship without hesitation, while Laurence lost himself to the traditional idea of what a monster is.” (@Boxer)

Now I like this as it kind of circumvents the essay and explains wonderfully why we adore Bloodborne’s depiction of women as visceral. Coming from a male perspective, this is validating to hear. Yes, women can be just as monstrous as men, and the fact that the men of Yharnam are beastly, lycanthropic specifically, is incredibly important here. Max adds to this by saying:

“Yharnam and the world of Bloodborne is a patriarchal one, so of course in the highest levels of the Healing Church, we generally see men in power. These men are mad, and while they’re still affected by the Great Ones and their effects on people, it’s reflected in a different way to the working class. We can probably assume that in Bloodborne the majority of labourers working dangerous jobs (including going out on the Hunt) are men, and so these men are exposed to the blood much more, as they use it to treat injuries, or even to stave off boredom (it is a heady intoxicant).” (@max)

The interest of class here is especially prominent and one I haven’t necessarily thought of. But it is true from a lore and also game-mechanic perspective that those of a higher class, of a higher intellect, tend to be the larger and more fearsome of beasts. So why then, dear listener, does the man in the Forbidden Woods, whom you can allow into the Oedon Chapel which will doom all of the NPCs there, become a riotous minor Darkbeast? Quite irrelevant to this discussion but I’d love to hear your theories (or if there’s a confirmed reason I have missed!). Anyway, Max then goes on to say:

“So, the men are exposed more to the blood’s influence without having resistance to it, while the women are producing it. You can get alternate blood vials in the game and they only come from women, so it’s fairly obvious it’s menstrual blood that we’re consuming.”

This I find very fascinating as it was something HoneyBat hightlighted in her video essay: that the blood we consume from the women of the game (most notably, the only unique blood vials we do attain are from women), is menstrual blood. There’s a lot of push back to this, and I do not think that it is an objectivity here, merely an interpretation spun from the evidence presented. Only women can willingly provide blood to the Hunter, and the only woman we cannot get blood from is the Old Woman — for she no longer bleeds. That is the evidence, and though I do not think that all consumable blood vials in this game is menstrual blood, I do wonder if this was a purposeful implication.

“I think it’s interesting that when the moon’s effects (caused by a female Great One, Flora) start in Yharnam, it’s mostly men who are transformed into monsters. The men, previously not exposed to the moon’s influence on the body, are much more sensitive to it in Yharnam, and turn into these hideous beasts after they’ve been exposed to the blood. Women are relatively unaffected, until the red moon is revealed and then everyone is either a beast or mad.

The way men and women are affected is reflective of the patriarchy: the women are experimented on, made into vessels that are solely useful for their biology, and men do benefit from it, but the patriarchy is also their downfall. The patriarchy affects both men and women, and the working class and upper classes, in different ways. I doubt that FromSoftware were trying to explore intersectional feminism, but that’s my reading from the game.” (@max)*

I do love that Max here mentions the fact that the patriarchy effects both men and women as this is very true! It also is related to what I mentioned earlier. The patriarchy upholds gender roles for both women and men; the sensitivity and subservience of women, and the strength and steadfastness of men. Just as much as women are not allowed to be independent and strong, men are not allowed to be weak and fragile, even though that is healthy. But alas, many are blind to these truths.

And the final contribution I want to highlight is from CarnivorousMoth who says:

“The women of Yharnam, be they human or otherwise, are valued for their blood, and yet go unrewarded for giving it; worshipped for what they can produce, but never rewarded in return for it; never genuinely respected or appreciated for who they are, only abstractly and meaninglessly idolised what they are. It comes down to extraction of a woman’s perceived value without compensating her, like all patriarchal systems.
We don’t know the rhetoric of the Healing Church in detail, but doubtless the Vicars said and wrote a lot of fancy words to justify this situation, claiming it was actually good for these women when they were literally and figuratively bled dry. That this situation which the church had to engage in considerable effort to manufacture is totally the natural order of things, trust me on this, I’m a doctor.” (@CarnivorousMoth)

In relation to what Max said, Moth also mentions the concept that women provide, but are not rewarded. They are brainwashed into believing that they are unworthy of praise, and that this that their duty explains is expected and the bare minimum that they should be doing. This is seen most ardently in Adella of whom I have an essay on here. She is constantly talking down about herself, saying her blood is lowly and that she is unworthy of our kindnesses. Do read the article on her as a victim of Yharnam’s patriarchy for a more detailed analysis!

This community I have found is so fucking intelligent and insightful that I am honoured to have shared their words here! Again, please do join if you want to get involved, but also I didn’t put in everyone’s contribution so if you want to read the extra conversation surrounding this, you know what to do!

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

There is quite an endless list of literary inspirations one could pull from the murky depths of Bloodborne. Consciously implemented by the devs or not, if a book contains essences of the gothic or cosmic, likely one could very easily connect it to the expansive folklore of Yharnam. From the elucidating Dracula, Cthulhu and Jekyll & Hyde, to the lesser-obvious The Bloody Chamber, In Hospital, or… as we will talk about here… Mary Shelley’s 1818 romanticist gothic work: Frankenstein or, The Modern Prometheus. We all know the story of its conception. A stormy night in the June of 1816, Villa Diodati upon Lake Geneva, a cast of romantic and tragic figures within the throes of a Hellenistic destitution. Lord Byron, Percy Bysshe Shelley, esteemed poets; Dr. John Polidori, Byron’s doctor and resident affectionate; Claire Claremont, the desperate tag-along; and finally, the lachrymose novelist having experienced depravity and an uncanny devotion to a mother she never knew, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

They proposed a horror-story writing competition, inspired by the tempest without, and this supposedly became the catalyst for Mary’s beginning her Magnum Opus. “They needed something new, something more terrible, he [Byron] declared: everyone should write a ghost story, and then they would select a winner. He was confident that he could easily triumph over Shelley; he never considered the talents of Polidori or the two women.” (Gordon, 187). Having been inspired by a plenitude of other aspects, from a depiction of Galvanism to the callousness of her father, Shelley’s masterpiece was written as she endured tragedy beyond that which an 18 year old woman should.

The story of Frankenstein, similar to her later work The Last Man, is embedded deeply in her own experiences. She presents her father is a sympathetic yet distant light, this soon changes as she continues through the throes of life as William Godwin disowns his daughter due to her association with the atheist Percy Shelley… yet still does he ask her for a stipend every month. She, rather frustratingly to a contemporary audience, provides despite Shelley’s liberal spending habits. Regardless, Frankenstein is a reflection of Mary’s own life at the time she wrote it. Without the ardent depression of The Last Man, which was written following the death of her husband, her friend Lord Byron, and three of her children, Frankenstein explores the intricacies of Romanticism, ambition, and the danger of a mortal man attempting to play god. Furthermore, Mary Shelley was greatly inspired by her friend Samuel Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner in the conception of the novel. A friend of her father’s, it is quite adorably remembered that when Mary was 8 years old, she, her father, and her loathsome step mother, step brother and step sisters, were paid a visit by the young poet:

“On the evening of Coleridge’s visit, in a petulant show of power, Mary-Jane (Mary’s step-mother) sent all four children to bed instead of allowing them to stay up to listen to the poet’s stories. Nothing could have been better calculated to alienate her younger stepdaughter, who stole back downstairs, followed by the admiring Jane. The girls crept into Godwin’s study and hid behind the couch, just as Coleridge began to recite The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. For Mary, Coleridge’s rounded, rolling voice created wild imaginary scenes she could never forget.” (Gordon, 31).

There is an arcane ambition nature to both The Ancient Mariner and Frankenstein. A divine greed, an avarice for knowledge and ascended power over forces beyond the bounds of nature. Frankenstein, especially, delves into the power of nature as a component of healing in the same vein as the proprietors of the Gothic genre; as well as presents a man so very ambitious that he attempts to play God… and regrets it deeply.

“I shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man.” (Frankenstein, 16)

This is the vision of our frame narrator, R. Walton, a man on an Arctic cruise with the intent of discovering far off lands — as was a trend in the 19th century, and often resulting in the loss of life (as is the case with the infamous Franklin Expedition of 1845). Walton becomes the mirror of Dr. Frankenstein, whose ambition to conquer natural powers results in the tragic loss of life also. Ambition mixed with being unprepared for the consequences — albeit it to underestimate the harshness of the Arctic seas, or to imbibe a manmade creature with benevolence — is a recipe for disaster.

This brings us, finally, to the heart of Yharnam, where Prospectors and scholars alike are unearthing an ancient Great One within the abyssal depths of the old Pthumerian labyrinth; unaware that their actions, their ambitions, will eventually cause the downfall and destruction of Yharnam in its entirety.

“I saw—with shut eyes, but acute mental vision—I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion” (Shelley, Introduction to Frankenstein, 10).

The inspiration Bloodborne takes from Frankenstein is not so overt as their other aesthetic choices. Cosmicism and Stokerian castles are obvious in the grand scale of the game, Stevenson’s influence too in its Edinburgh-likeness and Hyde-esque beasthood, but Frankenstein sits beneath the aesthetic surface. Like the story itself, it is not so overtly Gothic — a bit more philosophical than anything — and those familiar only with the bastardisation of the tale, rather than the tale itself, may be disappointed to know it is not necessarily “horror”. You will not go into this story expecting to be “scared”, but psychologically… unnerved as we sympathise with the Creature and curse its creator. Unlike those… adaptations… that I certainly have strong opinions of… the Creature is not some vacuous beast, mute and zombie-like. It is a highly intelligent being who learns to speak and empathise through observing a peasant family in the Swiss Alps for months on end. It is its appearance, its rejection from humanity, that causes the break in its desire to fit in.

If it should be treated as a beast, then a beast it will surely become.

It is the ambition of men that cause this crack in the natural balance, this tragedy finalised. Lawrence and Willem, Micolash too, all represent this collective Victor Frankenstein. All wished to play God in some way, and they did not respect the natural order of the world. As the famous Alchemist, Hermes Trismegistus, said: As Above, So Below. As this… very awkward transition dictates… Mary Shelley had a keen understanding of the arcane and alchemy along with her philosophical studies.

“Mary Shelley’s attitude toward the occult thus seems to be neither one of endorsement nor condemnation, but rather of profound hesitation. To her the issue is not that the alchemists are right and the scientists wrong or vice versa. Indeed, to perceive the situation in these terms is to miss the key diagnostic pivot inherent in all conditions of historical crosscurrents. Rather, the conflict -- if it even can be called that -- resembles that of a tragic clinch: a conflict of rights. On its side, occultism is always presumptuously total and mythic in its scope.” (Irving H. Buchen, Frankenstein and the Alchemy of Creation and Evolution)

Her critique for it proves her knowledge here, but also the very fact that Victor Frankenstein uses science and reason to create life, to take the essence of the soul and place it into something corporeal, that alone is something explored by alchemists ever since the conception of the concept. Bloodborne, as we all know, also delves into this territory. We see Galvanism too, but also the creation of life from human essence, gods and the divine as something grotesque and frightening, an ardent theme of faith as a negative feature that causes blindness and ignorance. The desire to transcend, to bend the will of nature to one’s gait, to provide life instead of take it, are all alchemical ambitions.

“But though Shelley rejoiced in the idea of human beings creating life, Mary would later say, in a preface to the revised edition of Frankenstein, that she found the principle “supremely frightful,” confessing that she worried about “the effect of any human endeavour to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world”. (Gordon, 187)

Of course, as with the One Reborn or Rom for example, we see just how human beings fail at this endeavour. They cannot create life out of nothing… and thus also the focus on pregnancy in the game. While we can and do reproduce, it becomes evident that it is through pregnancy and that alone. Through womanhood and motherhood, and the gentle upbringing to imbue appropriate nature unto the child. But human beings are greedy and short tempered. They, like Victor Frankenstein, forced their way to human creation; to the creation of the divine. They ripped an unborn child from a God for the sake of knowledge. Victor forced a sentient being into the world for the sake of science, but without the means to care for it, nurture it, only the cold empiricism of a scholar. He, like the Old Hunters, for a moment forgot their humanity; abandoned it. As a result, their fate was bound to that of vacuous beasthood.

As a result, too, Victor’s fate was bound to anguish.

“Mary’s doubts stemmed from her deep reservations about the ability of human beings to improve themselves or the world. Evil, she felt, was lodged too deeply inside the human heart. Even those men who appeared to have the highest possible aims — truth, knowledge, liberty — seemed to her to be motivated by the desire for power and recognition, an insight gained, perhaps, from her life with Godwin and now Shelley.” (Gordon, 187)

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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I want to preface this article by saying that of course I am not absolving Adella for her… murdering a woman. I am instead going to analyse her narrative through a kind of humanist perspective. She is a rather overlooked NPC, and not many approach her tale with anything akin to sympathy. She does, after all, take away a chance of attaining the true ending (despite four cords existing in game for this exact reason), and also kills a kind of beloved NPC. I say kind-of, I do not think the NPCs in this game are quite as notable as previous souls games. We do not really have a Seigmeyer equivalent unlike the others, and there also are not half as many than previous entries. Thus, I think, the general feeling of their questlines being rather overlooked — Adella’s most ardently.

Alas, this essay is not to exonerate our murderess, but to go into the intricacies of her situation. I believe the events that lead up to her crime is purely down to the influence of her surroundings and situation — she was not merely insane, another mad NPC to kill when the blood moon rises. If you did not know, Adella can kill Arianna before the Blood Moon, separating it from its influence entirely. She is not turned mad by the presence of the Great Ones, furthering the concept that the minds of women are not so easily changed by the moon. They are, instead, changed physically; a metamorphosis. From pregnancy to the transformation into a lupine or flayed beast— they are mad, yes, but not as a direct result of the Mensis Ritual and the Church’s actions. For whatever reason, whether because of their periods — that which bleeds out the tainted Old Blood — or not, the women of Yharnam seem not to be so susceptible to the Healing Blood as men. All Yharnamites we find wandering the streets are men; most beasts present in a masculine way; the amount of mobs who are explicitly women are far exceeded by that which are men.

Alas, this is an argument for another essay that I may or may not be in the midst of writing as we speak. For now, let us return to the focus of today’s article. A tragic victim of Yharnam’s patriarchy.

We begin our tale in the umbral, shrouded Hypogean Gaol. A depraved place beneath the unseen village where we encounter our first taste of the Cosmic; a preview of what’s to come if the player is particularly observant. We descent a set of stairs and are summoned by the sound of woe, a woman is crying. Adella is found cowering in a corner, having been snatched by the same kidnapper that took us. She is a nun, an ardent believer in the Church, and will not speak to you unless you adorn its garb. A vulnerable woman cowering in a corner, Adella asks if you may find her a safe place to go. Her brethren may have abandoned her, or may have been killed in turn, but she mentioned knowing people who may let her in despite the Hunt being in full force. She is clearly of an unstable mind, anxious and frightful, but she remains bashful and timid. She does not beg for help, nor threaten, but merely ask kindly and even goes so far as to say she will find an alternative should we not have an answer. She is innocence manifest; a nun, shy, the picture of traditional pious femininity.

Adella is a fantastic example of what we mean by “visceral femininity”. It is that twisted gentility, visions of stereotypes turned into something grotesque and violent. It is a difficult concept to explain to those unwilling to listen, but simply the way women are depicted in this game feels so deeply… cathartic, almost. It doesn’t feel like an insult, but as an exploration of something deeper — I think arcane femininity is a better phrase. Sanguine, bloody. Periods are often either unspoken or dressed up as something lovely and pretty. The fact Bloodborne takes the concept of menstruation and female anatomy and turns it into something grotesque is… so awesome and a lot of women adore this depiction. The fact that Ebrietas, a vile tentacle creature straight out of the Necronomicon, is a “daughter”, is enough of an example of show what I mean. But even Adella, the vision of innocence, fits this concept of femininity, twisted.

If we leave her, Adella will eventually disappear, her fate unknown until one finds her corpse on a staircase in Yahar’gul; she did not get far, and it is no wonder. Like Gascoigne’s daughters, she is fragile. Far too fragile for the brutality of the hunt. Adella drops the Oedon Writhe Caryll Rune:

“A Caryll rune that transcribes inhuman sounds.

“Writhe” sees a subtle mucous in the warmth of blood, and acknowledges visceral attacks as one of the darker hunter techniques.

Human or not, the oozing blood is a medium of the highest grade, and the essence of the formless Great One.

Both Oedon, and Oedon’s inadvertent worshippers, surreptitiously seek the precious blood.”

The Writhe has an ardent connection to blood itself, logical for her purpose, yet this is the weakest version of the Oedon Writhe. Even the inscribed Rune Adella leaves behind is weak and feeble, better versions of this rune existing elsewhere. Her purpose is to provide, but what she can provide is pitiful. It is a sad revelation, that however she wishes to help, she will become more of a burden than anything until her mind… snaps.

If the good hunters sends her to Oedon Chapel, she will thank them and head there to be found when next they respawn. Sitting on a seat in the corner, Adella will dutifully rise at the hunter’s approach and thank you profusely for your aid. Her head is lowered and her hands rest, clasped, before her; as if in sempiternal prayer. She will, too, offer her blood, but she dubs it “lowly”. Her attitude toward herself is downtrodden and unconfident. If we refuse, she will return to her stuttering, timid manner and admit that of course we would refuse, and how foolish she was for asking. This is not the manner of someone naturally timid, Adella has experienced hardships beyond our knowledge and they have devoured then spat out what remains of her confidence. With madness running riot on this night of all nights, it is no wonder than that her mind breaks. As I want to argue here, Adella’s madness is not borne from the Blood Moon nor the apocalypse that ensues, but from the situation surrounding her. Whereas many Yharnamites are going mad due to the arcane influence of the Great Ones, the women of Bloodborne seem to be going mad purely due to the environment. their minds are almost protected by the Great Ones. They do not require the frenzy of women, but their bodies.

Adella is the very picture of piety. She is quiet, speaks when spoken to, and knows her purpose. She does not have the ambition of Iosefka or Queen Annalise for example, those that wish to bear the children of the gods, but only to provide blood for the use of her saviour. So, when the hunter makes it clear that they prefer the blood of Arianna, a prostitute, over the religious Adella, she snaps. It is Adella’s bigotry that fuels this madness, but it did not occur out of nowhere. She was never stable even when we met her, either from the woes of the hunt that brought her to the Hypogean Gaol, or, more likely, her life before all of this.

I, like many of you, have such a fascination with what these worlds Fromsoft builds would have looked like before the apocalypse took hold. Apocalypse is a prominent part of all Souls games, we enter a world long destroyed, scars of prosperity marring the landscape, and so I wonder what Adella’s situation would have been before it all. Her attitude is clearly of a pretentious degree, pearl clutching and unempathetic to the struggles of those socially below. But the Church seems to shun this kind as is. Their ambition was not to bring Yharnam into affluence, not really. That was a bi-product, a bonus, of their thirst for knowledge. Ascension, instead, was the higher echelon’s intention. Why else would they have secretly harvested Yharnamites, orphaned children and innocents in the Upper Cathedral Ward? The Healing Church does not care for its citizens. Likely, too, it does not care for the lower-ranked church-goers either. Adella The Nun was more than likely abandoned by her brethren, left to die in the gaol.

There is also something to be said of the Gaol itself where we find her. The Gaol exists to stash kidnapped hunters and Yharnamites who will soon be experimented on by the Mensis Scholars. Thus its proximity to the Unseen Village, that which was used as a base for the School’s misdeeds. Adella was, like us, to be experimented on. Whether that would be the case or not, due to the absence of Mensis Scholars who all left for the Nightmare, the Gaol is not that to punish, but to keep. However, connotations of the word do certainly mean “to imprison”, specifically on the basis of a crime being committed. Our crime was seeking the Eldritch Truth and halting the Mensis Ritual for our own gain — to escape, to ascend, or I suppose not for our gain in our imprisonment in the Dream. So then, what is Adella’s crime?

This is pure interpretation and I haven’t got an answer to this question, so if you have anything further you want to add to this please do comment below.

Returning to the Oedon Chapel, as the night progresses, Adella will grow more and more unstable. It takes three of Arianna’s blood vials to truly make her snap. Her jealousy is the catalyst but as I said before, I do not think it is that alone that makes her turn to murder. She is timid, shy, and without knowing the doctrines of the Church, I can imagine not murdering would be at least a law in Yharnam. She will know that this is a sin she is committing, that she is abandoning her vows, yet still can she not help it. Arianna was just the unfortunate victim, but should we be able to take blood from any other woman, likely she would have been just as offended. I believe Adella has an ardent belief in the concept of a system. She does not pretend to be something more than she is in the social ladder, but is inflamed that Arianna seemingly is pretending to be something more in her offering blood.

During the 19th and early 20th century, class became such a large issue in England that it caused rampant disturbances in the balance of society. Literature and philosophy, politics and sociology explored the intricacies of classism and the issue with the poverty and wealth divide, but the rich only got richer and of course, it benefitted them where they did not want change. I suppose society hasn’t changed much since. J.B Priestley wrote An Inspector Calls which was first performed in 1945. Set in 1912, it has quite an overt exploration of the class divide as a wealthy family, all with their own dark secrets, inadvertently cause the suicide of Eva Smith, a working class woman who encounters the whole family; a victim of being a single, working class woman. It is a play rife with symbolism and interpretation, and one analysed by literary critics to the very bone. But it is notable here as it perfectly encapsulates the ardent presence of classism at that time and before. Industrialised London has always seen poverty. In fact, even before Industrialisation did London attract destitution due to its size and dense population. If we agree that Bloodborne takes from 19th century Britain as a primary source of its social inspiration, then it is no wonder Adella seemingly sees these classes and wishes them to be maintained. It puts her on a pedestal in a way, and the hunter taking Arianna’s blood reminds her that these boundaries have been rather arbitrarily created by the rich and privileged. That she is a slave to the system that she belongs to just as much as Arianna.

Likely Arianna did sell her body, but I have no reason to believe she wouldn’t also have sold her blood. After all, “Blood is more potent than alcohol”. Perhaps Adella is seeing also how she is whoring herself out to the hunter. Her anger stems from realising she is no better than Arianna in that regard. A Lady of the Night and a Nun are surely antithetical to one another, yet Adella sorns both herself and Arianna the same. She calls her own blood lowly, yet still disregards Arianna. There is a contradiction to this, but also a kind of desperation for some kind of normality. Some kind of… reality in this strange, doomed world. It emphasises the profound triviality of social bounds and influences, that in death, in apocalypse, social class no longer matters. It only matters as long as the rich and powerful benefit, but in the end we all succumb to the same fate.

Now you may be wondering, dear reader, why the title of this essay mentions “Bloodborne’s Patriarchy” specifically. What does that mean? Well, in the same way our world is mainly built on a patriarchal system — that which places men and men alone at the height of social power — Bloodborne, too, I believe does just that. Apart from Queen Annalise, who is only a Queen due to her bloodline, Yharnam’s leaders are all men. Lawrence, Micolash, Willem, Gherman, Ludwig — each led a faction, each fell to a vile fate. In the Church, there are women in high positions. Amelia, for example, clearly being of some importance in her title as Vicar, but as a general rule was the ambition of men the overarching catalyst for all that occurred.

“Seek the old blood. Let us pray... let us wish... to partake in communion. Let us partake in communion... and feast upon the old blood. Our thirst for blood satiates us, soothes our fears. Seek the old blood... but beware the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young. The foul beasts will dangle nectar and lure the meek into the depths. Remain wary of the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young. Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.” (Vicar Amelia)

I wonder at this quote and will very briefly explain what I think it specifically means. Of course, many have interpreted it to “humankind”, rather than the male sex, but I disagree with this. I do not think women are influenced by the old blood as prominently as men, and thus I think Amelia is truly talking about the men that surround her in the Healing Church. Be wary of their weaknesses for our ambitions are just as important as theirs, but they are meek and susceptible to beasthood. This, I believe, explains that women in the Church are still regarded as lesser, thus they must use men’s weak minds in order to gain. They must, as throughout history, use men for their benefit. What comes to mind here are the scheming, sly monarchs of the Tudor era; the wives of Henry VIII for example who, Anne Boleyn mostly, used their femininity to manipulate the minds of the powerful men that surrounded them. Like a sly fox dressed as a lamb, surrounded by a pack of starving gluttonous wolves.

This is a bit of a tangent, but I also love the final quote she says here, “Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.” If it wasn’t for our innate fear of death, we would not mourn the dead. Do not fear death, my vulpine hunters, allow the men this fear, their minds are too weak to resist it.

Returning to Adella, I believe she is a victim of this patriarchal system because she despises Arianna. A working woman, making ends meet in a world addicted to blood, is ripe for judgement, as is seen by the Yharnamite — or, the Bigoted Man — who says:

“What’s this two-bit nonsense you’re peddlin’? I heard you told that wench about some shelter. Well, she’s a damn fool to trust an outsider. Why? Her sort’s probably just fixin’ to thieve some of your coin.”

and also this most interesting piece of dialogue:

“I’ll spare you one nugget of advice. Beware the lady of the night. I can see it in her eyes... She deeply resents the young saint. She hears people whisper, she knows what people think of her. Yes... She despises the saint for having what she doesn’t. Bloody wench, they should’a moved her ages ago.”

This is interesting on its own, and perhaps even validates Adella’s own superiority. This is the general outlook on the downtrodden women of Yharnam, not unlike at all the view people had of just this kind of woman back 100 or so years ago — or, rather unfortunately, even now. Desperate women who are doing whatever it takes to survive are judged harshly, even by holywomen who do not empathise, but instead believe themselves better.

Adella killed Arianna, and will eventually turn to kill you, not only because of this bigotry that seeps into her already unstable mentality, but because of the system she was born into and seemingly helps to upkeep. A system created by the men above, and maintained by poor, perhaps even brainwashed women who believe it is the best way to live. Adella is a victim of this patriarchy because of this abandonment of her sex, this harsh judgement. It isn’t her fault her mind broke, notably separate from the blood moon, but that which the men above have invented.

It is a tragic outlook. But if we look at the doomed NPCs of this game with any kind of sympathy, we will begin to see cracks in the surface. Adella is not just the crazy bitch who kills Arianna, but a woman too influenced by her surroundings, too manipulated by the roles assigned to her and her sex. Her tale is a tragedy.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

If you wish to donate some echoes, do consider doing so here, or subscribing!

❛ buy me a coffee ❜

Subscribe now

Otherwise, may you find your worth in the waking world <3

❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

When it comes to discourse surrounding Bloodborne, Lovecraft’s name is bound to get brought up in some degree. The surface of the game, from the Amygdalas to the Fishing Hamlet, screams all things Lovecraftian — not his Posthumous mythos developed by fans of his work, but actually Lovecraftian regarding his written work. I make this distinction because the Lovecraftian mythos, alike to works such as Chambers’ The King In Yellow, has been built upon posthumously by all manner of fans. From the famous TTRPG, to various video games that add to and explore the outer frontiers of what Lovecraft initiated. Alike to the internet phenomenon SCP, the cosmic mythos of this Necronomicon is dense and packed full of fan-made theories, ideas and concepts. I am not trying to say that Bloodborne is an entry into this folklore… but actually kind of the opposite.

Now I do not deny the importance and prevalence of Lovecraft’s influence over Yharnam. I believe Miyazaki himself confirmed the inspiration, and it is plain as day even if you are not looking for it. What I am doing here, however, is exploring ways in which Bloodborne inadvertently adapts different pieces of cosmic literature. Not only has the exploration into Lovecraft’s influence been done to death, but I do believe one can find much more fascinating connections in this game in particular through works that the developers perhaps did not intend. If you have been following my work for a while, you will know my love of the concept of “the death of the author”; that any interpretation, however unintended by the devs, is valid due to our differing life experiences that may allow us to see in art what the artist could not. Video games are art as much as books or film, so analysing them in this way is very much needed. I do so with Bloodborne purely due to the rampant literary influence it has!

Anyway, let’s get into it.

“I was aware somehow that it had to do with my realisation of our utter insignificance before this unrestrained power of the elements about me.” (Blackwood, 64).

In an article exploring Blackwood’s skewed reality built within his vision of nature in The Willows, the author states that:

“Blackwood’s distinctive treatment of the natural world links his writing to ecocritical theory and environmental criticism; by resisting anthropocentric portrayals of nature, Blackwood creates room for different ways of imagining the world.” (Melhem, 232)

This already speaks to the metaphysical ways in which authors that wrote weird fiction, before the coined “cosmic” term took hold in the era of Lovecraft, thrived. It was in their interest to depict the world as we know it with tears in its reality. Curtains to peer behind, that we do not have the comprehension of doing so. The Willows uses ordinary natural visuals, that which we would not think are awry in the setting, and paints them in a strange, macabre colour. A floating otter looks like the body of a man.

“A black thing, turning over and over in the foaming waves, swept rapidly past. It kept disappearing and coming up to the surface again. It was about twenty feet from the shore, and just as it was opposite to where we stood it lurched round and looked straight at us. We saw its eyes reflecting the sunset, and gleaming an odd yellow as the body turned over. Then it gave a swift, gulping plunge, and dived out of sight in a flash”. (Blackwood, 65).

It is ambiguous then if this really was an otter, or just a kind of glitch in the barrier of the world that exists beyond. We learn that the Willows the protagonists are surrounded by are vessels, indeed, for some cosmic creatures beyond the comprehension of man. They are corporeal, existing in our world but between ours and theirs. They cannot truly be seen, but can be felt Algernon uses this nature to twist and corrupt,

“In the context of the current ‘weirded’ moment of human history, such narratives present rich opportunities for agitating the contours of anthropocentric worldviews. Thus, it is not merely the thematic representation of ghostly encounters, haunted landscapes, or anomalous powers in Blackwood’s fiction that undermines hardened worldviews, but also the
proliferation of textual strategies that demand non-normative imaginative practices.” (Melhelm, 232).

I love this final quote here as I think it encapsulates quite perfectly what it feels like to be analysing cosmic and weird literature, but also Bloodborne. As I said in the introduction, I analyse Bloodborne not just because it is my favourite game and I love it, but because there is just so much to see. Whether it is intended by the devs or not, the amount of interpretations and conclusions one can draw from this game is immense. The surface of the game is Cosmicism and femininity, but underneath the surface, what lies beneath that curtain of nature that we can find? By extension, most cosmic literature and media inspired by Lovecraft have been inspired also by the works of Blackwood, Machen, Chambers, Bierce, Poe, etc. Those weird authors who came before. And each one wields this kind of writing that forces the reader to imagine; twisting and turning their mind to visualise something truly horrible. It is a fascinating style of writing, the definition of “show-don’t-tell” as the more you tell, the less the reader will have to work with. It is that use of “filling in the gaps” that encourages horror. The horror of the unknown is that our minds make up the missing pieces. We see faces in the dark and silhouettes metamorphose out of our coats. We hear whispers and footsteps; that slight knock on the wall, the creak of the floorboards. Our minds are wired to survival and thus exhaust the worst case scenario… just in case.

The fact that we can get this experience, can be manipulated to feel this way, by words on a page is simply fascinating.

What’s more fascinating is the fact that this can be further done via video games. I feel as though writing has a far great advantage to this method as it cannot physically use anything visual to share its concept. It must use words, and when done well do we have an effect like what Blackwood has done. Video games are unique in that yes, they are visual, but they are also incredibly interactive and can make use of all manner of mediums within. In a film, it is less viable to use lengths of text out of practicality; the viewer might miss a sentence, cannot read as quickly as the text is on the screen, or simply will have no time to comprehend should the text be long. Video games are far different, for you quite literally go at your own pace. They are such a unique form of storytelling and art that it frustrates me that they have not been studied further. You are in control of the protagonist, and in a certain sense — especially with Souls — you are the protagonist. The developers needn’t put so much effort in the incomprehensible as you can comprehend it. This is where I think Bloodborne performs its incomprehensibility to a… mediocre degree.

I know! How dare I not glaze it endlessly? Now put down your pitchforks and let me explain what I mean.

The Frenzy status is a build up of insanity that eventually crescendos in a haemorrhage, taking a percentage of your health, and it is meant to symbolise the arcane raptured of madness in knowledge that causes a corporeal effect on the mortal body. It has its connotations and symbolism as is, but beyond that, the density of incomprehensibility does not seem so ardent as it does in other games. Everything we see seems to be… just that, and though it is surreal, strange, and ever so sinister, I do not think the devs made a good use out of the concept of incomprehensibility — that which one can find in literature. Now you may be wondering, Loran, this is a visual and audible style of storytelling, how could they visualise the incomprehensible if the incomprehensible is not meant to be seen?

And I will argue then, dear listener, that true, the incomprehensible is not meant to be witnessed and so surely will be difficult to adapt into a video game, but I do believe one video game I have played has done it absolutely wonderfully. And that is Silent Hill 2: Remake.

Now I say the Remake as I have yet, upon writing this, to play the original (it is on my list!). The horror that presents within this game is truly visceral; it seeps into your bones and makes you frightened of your own shadow. Somehow, Silent Hill 2 uses that fear of the unknown and twists it into the video game format. If you want to hear my full thoughts on this game, do check out this article, but this game, in a way, manifests the weird tale so well, in my opinion. Nothing, the deeper we go into hell, is explained nor has a root. What banged its fist on the door to the cell in the Prison? No clue. What whispers in our ear in room 209? It all feels so deeply cosmic and, well, spooky. I think this method of incomprehensibility is far better than Bloodborne’s, but regardless, the game adapts cosmic horror in more ways than just the metaphysical obscurity.

The Willows by Blackwood tells the story of two travellers who find themselves crossing Eastern Europe for reasons I believe are unknown and unimportant. They meander down the Danube until they reach a remote place that seems to be void of all human touch. It is a lonely place and in the midst of a tempest that causes a din of the zephyr. The two decide to camp on one of the many islands and notice that surrounding them, unending, are Willows. Endless Willows that seem to be watching their every move.

“The rest of the island was too thickly grown with willows to make walking pleasant, but I made the tour, nevertheless. […] For a short while [the river] was visible, pouring in and out among the islands, then disappearing in huge sweeps into the willows, crowding down to drink.” (Blackwood, 63).

Even in the early parts of the novel do we see how Blackwood personifies nature to gives the reader an ardent sense of the uncanny. These inanimate trees should not be leaning to drink like so many deer, they should not be so… mammal-like.

“Both language and narrative strategies in Blackwood’s stories elicit a type of engagement from the reader that challenges and transforms prior conc eptions of the natural world. In this way, Blackwood’s narratives recover the nonhuman as a field of imagination” (Melhelm, 232).

In short, the moving trees and strange happenings turn out to be the result of a barrier, sitting directly betwixt this river, that separates our corporeal reality with the underhanded presence of something… more. The narrator’s sangfroid, no-nonsense partner explains to him the nature of these Old Ones in a manner befitting of a madman; but quite ominously, “he was as sane as any man ever was.”

Beyond just the overarching themes that present themselves in this short story, The Willows can be connected to Bloodborne in further ways; such as the very nature we encounter within Bloodborne. The Forbidden Woods.

I have touched on the influence of Romanticism on Gothicism and the nature that we encounter herewith in this article, so I won’t go too deep into the philosophy of this forest being the boundary to the accursed city, but what I want to touch on is what Oops in my discord server enlightened:

“I cannot help but see some parallels with the Forbidden Woods. Specifically in the twisting, grasping landscape and the approach of menacing shadows (literally in the case of the Shadows of Yharnam). A deeply hostile landscape that serves as a sprawling, confounding boundary between the familiar and the alien. The forest serves as a lengthy transition from the gothic Yharnam to the cosmic Byrgenwerth.” (@Oopsallstupid)

The concept of boundaries and barriers suits so well here that I wonder if the devs didn’t have The Willows in mind when designing the Forbidden Woods. As Oops says, it acts as a barrier between the corporeal and the alien; our first real taste of cosmicism in normal game progression. Through a labyrinthian wood, we encounter balls of serpents, men with lithe, serpentine heads, and, of course, the Shadows of Yharnam. These entities emerge from the gloom, and seem to exist in this world but… not quite. They command flame yet their bodies are fluid and they are present in both the Waking World and the Nightmare of Mensis. They are servants to Queen Yharnam, thus they are not bound by the mortal vice of earthly men, but can move between realms freely. These Shadows remind me so deeply of these Old Ones depicted in The Willows. Both exist within a boundary, both don’t seem to be quite corporeal on this plane.

Oops goes on to say that:

“The woods themselves include both a river and swamp with their own wretched inhabitants. The sense of desperation many players feel as they become lost for hours is, intentionally or not, reminiscent of that depicted in The Willows.” (@Oopsallstupid)

Unlike the rest of the game, the Woods’ design is incredibly… non-linear. There is a general path one must follow, go down and follow the trail and one will eventually find the Shadows, but there is an ardent emphasis on something far more open here. So much so in fact that only a few months ago, after spending 400+ hours in this game, did I find the Graveyard Set. I never truly explored the Woods due to its complexity and labyrinthian nature. The concept of being lost in the woods is not one synonymous with The Willows and The Willows alone necessarily, but if one thinks of an iconic piece of literature about being lost in the woods, it certainly comes to mind and has absolutely been used as the base for plenty of likewise fiction.

The concept of crossing a barrier itself is incredibly prevalent in Cosmic horror. Bloodborne uses it in multiple facets — from crossing over at the very beginning of the game into Yharnam, to doing so from Waking to Dream world, Waking to Nightmare realm, etc. There are a lot of examples of this. In Bloodborne’s titular inspiration, Lovecraft uses the concept of crossing over to another plane in such works as Dagon, for example. Often is the line between the cosmos and our reality colliding in these stories — cosmic beings living in coastal towns. The Forbidden Woods guides us through a Cosmic narrative in this way. It drip feeds us hints of cosmicism until the Blood Moon wherein “the line between man and beast is blurred”.

The Willows, furthermore, emphasises this too.

“We happen to have camped in a spot where their region touches ours, where the veil between has worn thin […] so that they are aware of our being in their neighbourhood.” (Blackwood, 92).

Gryphon in my server highlighted a really interesting parallel, looking at the context surrounding Blackwood’s writing of The Willows. I won’t share his entire history lesson in this article. He stated that:

“The fact that our heroes are going on a camping trip along the Danube in the same manner we might discuss roughing it in some wildland today, having long passed the last big town of Pressburg (incidentally this is modern Bratislava, capital of Slovakia) is more than enough evidence, to say nothing of, as noted, the proximity of DARKEST TRANSYLVANIA (Dracula had only been published a few years earlier!) that there’s a general sense of passing from the world of science and understanding in the heartland of the European capitals to the land of spooky, liminal myth and faerie out on the fringes.” (@Gryphon)

In short, even the geographical context means that our heroes are passing over from realm to another. As I say, that alone is a theme befitting cosmicism. As Oops emphasised, the Forbidden Woods work as a kind of gate toward another realm; from Gothicism to Cosmicism, the final stand before we begin to see aspects of the otherworldly. That is my main point here: the delineation of two worlds separating. Duality, as I have said before many times, is a prominent aspect to Bloodborne in so many ways. Nightmare and Dream, Beast and Kin, etc. — I do think, too, that there is a very solid line separating Gothicism and Cosmicism. Two things can be true at once; Bloodborne can be both Gothic and Cosmic.

To conclude here, The Willows is not only a beautifully written piece of cosmic literature, but also a wonderful example of Cosmicism before Lovecraft. I mean this truly that yes, Bloodborne adapts Lovecraft, but it also adapts so many other pieces of literature that I find far more intriguing to explore — once again, intended or not by the devs (as is a phrase I use far too often on my account lol).

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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Otherwise, may you find your worth in the waking world <3

❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

As an essayist and writer of fiction, I tend to lean toward, as many of you also do, darker genres. The themes that tap into mortal depravity, moral ambiguity and all things the macabre seem to attract my attention far more than that which… well… doesn’t. I find these kinds of games, books, films and shows press on matters of far more importance than the lighter genres. Our world is ugly and cruel, so to see this cruelty be manifested in physical of visual ways can be incredibly cathartic. For example, and apt for my channel, the way in which feminine woes can be embodied in Bloodborne as some eldritch monster from the cosmos is cathartic for many women. The way gender and sex is explored in such visceral ways in not just Bloodborne but all of From games is, in turn, cathartic. Thus, whenever I see a video game that explores depravity in visceral ways, bonus points if it has a female protagonist, I am immediately hooked.

As soon as I saw the trailer for the upcoming survival horror RPG Metamorphosis, I knew I was going to be fixated on it in one way or another. This is going to be a much shorter article, as you can see, just talking about the themes and speculations I have from the demo of Metamorphosis and that alone.

There is a very overt theme of piety within this game. Already can we see this uncanny devotion strewn throughout the starting area, and plenty of allusions to it exist throughout the demo. One being… of course… the main character is a nun. This makes me wonder if we are going to see much in the way of sex in relation to religion. The confessional… laady… mentioning “disgusting as men” specifically. displayed is clearly leaning more toward a brutalisation of Catholicism, what with the confessional and general aesthetic, which has throughout media been the forefront of horror. Classic horror media such as The Exorcist, or even later films like The Conjuring films, all display visions of Catholicism in its folklore of demons and possession. With its controversial history, this denomination also has an incredibly enticing aesthetic fit for horror. Not only are its dark cathedrals, looming piety and supernatural themes prevalent within Gothicism most ardently, but in recent years has there been a bit of a surge of media using Catholicism while loosely attaching something far less divine to it.

This aesthetic has been dubbed Divine Machinery.

The gameplay of Metamorphosis is… definitely something. The combat is gruelling, the save system is punishing, and the overall game feels so unfriendly to the player. But I feel like this was intentional. To mimic the cruelty of the world we have been thrust into, we are given little guide on what to do and where to go, who are we, nor the best way to deal with certain opponents. We must learn to do this by ourselves — or, of course, with the very vague guide of the confessional… laaady… who gives us both a much needed safe room, as well as some very disjointed lore.

From what I can gather, which is very little at this point, is that the world is in a state of apocalypse due to one single sin. I do not think that this is set in our world, but something adjacent, or perhaps what once was our world and is now corrupted beyond repair. In a way, it reminds me of the game Blasphemous that uses a similar aesthetic in a far less… colourless, brutal fashion. That game uses a very Middle-Ages or Renaissance vision of Catholicism and takes on a far more fantastical aesthetic with it. Metamorphosis goes in the opposite direction, giving something oddly futuristic and combining both classic piety and the sharp edges of something far more industrial. It is… brutal, that is the only word I can really describe it. Brutal, unforgiving, and a world I know I am going to have nightmares about.

For those who do not know, I have such an obsession with the concept of industrial horror. Ever since I watched the first ILL trailer a year ago at Summer Game’s Fest 2025, I have been enamoured by the concept of something combining body horror — gore, flesh, and everything gnarly — with concrete, metal, and rust. ILL showed us an utterly vile location of discomfiture, disquiet, and distress. It had fleshy monsters and so much gore. Now I am not usually a big fan of gore, but this really… unlocked something in my mind, I think. Metamorphosis, I know, is going to scratch that itch just as well.

When you pause the game and enter the main menu, you will be greeted by this… face. It looks like a skull, flayed, fleshless, yet still living. Wires seem to be protruding from it, and it stares, commands you. You are asking it, kindly, if you may exit the game, enter the settings, see your inventory.
Do not repeat yourself.
There is a sentience to this game. That, alone, scares me like nothing else. But the face that we see is, as I say, something oddly organic… yet not. It is not human, but perhaps it was once a human.

As I mentioned previously, the world here is in a state of apocalypse. We learn that a group of people ascended to find… something beyond the earth. That left chaos below as war ensued and innocents were butchered. When we leave the initial church, one of the only buildings in the area that has not been destroyed, which is important to note, we enter a war-torn scrapyard. Rubble and destroyed buildings litter the background, and this makes me wonder just why we, as horror fans, are so very enamoured by the concept of the apocalypse.

It is a trope of a lot of souls and soulslikes, to throw the player into a world long decaying where the apocalypse has long finished. You must piece the history together through the corpse of the world, gather information through the bones and rotting flesh of worlds beaten and flayed. This is no more obvious than in Metamorphosis wherein everything feels so… horribly rotten. The world is rotten. It smells of stagnant blood and sounds like a cacophony of tortured souls.

And for some odd… perhaps concerning reason… I fucking love it.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

If you wish to donate some echoes, do consider doing so here, or subscribing!

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Otherwise, may you find your worth in the waking world <3

❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

Hark! A tale cataclysmal
shorn in an augur affluent
in enlightenment abyssal.

She, suffocating insight
curiosity thaws the floes
of Caligo, Tragedy of Night.

Memory behests tragedy as much as life behests death; life, unending, is a cruel fate however much we fear the alternative. Memory is like ice, remembrance frozen in hoarfrost, ever there yet prone to be forgotten as more memories freeze in turn. Piles upon piles of frost-borne memory; mounds of them, like corpses, fester as each beat of time wears on.

If knowledge is held by ice, stagnant, then the concept of a figure, alone and imposing, incomprehensibly immense, is one that can be shrouded in nothing but tragedy. The Lonely God, whose very curiosity it was that enticed her over to become one with the Night. Curiosity, and boredom likely, for what is more mundane than eternity? When one has witnessed all, the auspice of something new, untouched, unseen, must be akin to a vile kind of excitement. An initial ecstasy, maybe even rapture, that is dulled by a bleak sense of dread. It will end soon, she thought. The Night, the gap in my knowledge, all this forsaken land doth hold; mayn’t it last? No, all will end. And I will be all-knowing once more.

The irony is her shape, dear reader.
For one as omniscient as she, Caligo takes the shape of a vacuous beast. A great, hulking dragon, an animal. The dragons of Elden Ring are no less intelligent than you or I, but their shape is undoubtedly… primal. Was this by choice then, I wonder, or the shape she was forced to take as she accepted the endless night? Is autonomy even guaranteed in this gods-forsaken corpse of a world? The night itself is but a parasite leeching on this ancient place — what, truly, is it offering she who knows all? What did she give to satisfy her curiosity?
Her sight?

Darkness, unending, sprawls tangible under a sunless sky. It is unsurprising, then, that our Nightlords are… blind. What do they need to see with their corporeal gaze? The night is surely enough to whet their ambitions. Caligo, ardently, accents the unseeing. She is a fissure in the fog, a miasma of the night, coaxing fog with her frozen breath. Each icicle, each floe of ice hold a thousand memories. But her rocklike-hide is impenetrable, even that which covers her eyes. Blind… yet all seeing. The inner eye sees all, and like the blindness of faith that succumbs those golden-yearning scholars of Limgrave and beyond, blindness is a welcome trait to endure.

Caligo impresses upon me a feeling of great anguish and loss. She is melancholia; mourning manifest for she is battling to maintain all she has kept sacred. A walking Library of Alexandria, Caligo’s death, should this be the true death of the immortal dragon, a speculation due to the colossal eye that lurks beyond, Caligo’s death will kill with it all she knows. All she has seen. Memories spurned, knowledge melted away in a torrent.

Assuming we are that which ends this ancient creature, tragedy is underfoot. Unlike her peers, this lonely dragon does not burst forth from the ground nor plummet from above, armed to the teeth to devour, to conquer. No, knowledge-ridden and curiosity-borne, Caligo hides within her haze. She cowers, covered by her wings as shields from duty. But we, the Nightfarers, must kill and kill; murder for our gain. To end this terrible night.

It is a trope across the genre, I think. That one beast, that one poor creature, unwilling to fight yet forced to all the same. It is Sif, Ebrietas, Rom — beasts in form, yet demure within.
We force her to cross swords, and she does so with rigid resistance.

It is that second-phase transition, when the sky blooms in a crescendo of glacial accent, plumes of scintillating ice reach heavenward in mimicry of great pillars seen across Fromsoftware’s titles, it is there that we see her anguish, unmasked. She writhes in mental irresolution, agony running riot through her. The torture of losing something that can never be returned — something precious, perhaps the most precious thing in the world. It must be akin to hellish. She covers her face a moment, weeping that we should truly do this. But she cannot communicate to us — perhaps she is too far beyond our mortal intellect, or perhaps she has been muted by her draconic form, but she does not attempt to placate us. She endures it. Perhaps she knows it must come to pass.

Her scream is visceral and emphatic.
The sight of a being untethered, exhausting all torment, wailing skyward is powerful, indeed. But we care not. For whatever our selfish reason may be, the Night must end; we must have our vengeance. If that means sacrificing the fount of all knowledge from prehistory onwards… then so be it.

Caligo is a fascinating example of Fromsoftware recycling concepts once tasted in previous games. She is an ice dragon, a quintessential theme in most fantasy work that involves the hulking creatures, but she differs greatly from the frostbitten beasts we find upon the Mountaintops. Borealis, for example is not one with the ice as she. His eyes are long scabbed over and his flesh is sore and red. He can command ice, but at the cost of his mortal skin. Caligo is no such mortal dragon, and though resembling more closely the drakes of Dark Souls 3 rather than the ancient dragons of Elden Ring, her flesh is stone all the same and she is… thin. Emaciated, even.

Did the night even satisfy her wild curiosity? Or did it only take… take more than it should, more than she should ever have given. Did we, in turn, encounter her within her weakest state? Was she bound to death regardless? Her slumber was disrupted… we she healing, perhaps?

So many questions… yet so little time. I must leave you, dear reader, but I thank you for your attention. May the night be short, and may all woeful beasts rest in arctic quietude.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

If you wish to donate some echoes, do consider doing so here, or subscribing!

❛ buy me a coffee ❜

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Otherwise, may you find your worth in the waking world <3

❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

I have spoken at length the utter prominence of madness that Bloodborne implements in relation to its depiction across Literature. From the narrator of The Tell-Tale Heart, to Bertha Mason, my previous video on the topic of Gothicism explores this much deeper. However, to round out this topic once and for all across this fortnight (I’m not sure why I have made three videos now talking about this), I want to delve into the way in which madness and insanity presents in Bloodborne through the history of insanity; in short, solidly in the real world, not through a literary lens this time. For my research into this topic, I read Catherine Arnold’s Bedlam, a comprehensive dive into the history of the Bethlem Asylum from its conception in 1247 up to its contemporary importance in the two World Wars.

Within the book, Arnold uses first-hand accounts and famous examples of madness that have allowed us, as a society, to develop our understanding of mental health. Even now is the brain an enigma, but even the realisation that madness and headaches do not stem from evil spirits is a relatively recent revelation in the grand scale of human existence. Instead of trepanning… we’re given sertraline lmao. And I think that the inclusion of such biological terminology (Amygdala, for example, being a part of the brain’s temporal lobes, as well as a god from outer space), the inclusion of this in Bloodborne solidifies it as something heavily embedded in psychology and the question of the mind. The very concept of going mad with knowledge is, of course, incredibly cosmic, and also has its roots in real science; what with a dash of the fictional arcane.

I also just want to briefly preface this by saying any views laid out in this article regarding the concept of “madness” are inherently outdated. We know a lot more about mental illness nowadays and there is of course much less of a stigma around it. A lot of the conditions described here can be identified nowadays as schizophrenia, depression, anxiety, PTSD and so on — but of course, it was all just sort of bunched together and regarded as miscellaneous “madness” back then. Okay enough preamble, let’s begin…

Chapter I: The Canticles of Wolves

“Like brute beasts, they [the mad] were deemed insensitive to heat or cold, making their physical abuse acceptable. Then there is the reference making their physical abuse acceptable. Then there is the reference to the moon (the term lunatic derives from luna, the Latin word for moon). Many writers, from antiquity onwards, maintained that the mad were directly affected by the phases of the moon, with the full moon being the cause of the greatest agitation” (Arnold, 24)

Lycanthropy, or the figure of the werewolf, has been a repetitive motif throughout folklore and fiction. Surprisingly, “werewolves” have not been so popular in Gothic literature as vampires for example, but it is an ancient concept stemming from Old English and Greek mythology. Interestingly, the fear of the werewolf rose side by side with the fear of the witch. There was an innate connection between the occult and nature that struck fear into the hearts of the layman. The witch had her familiars, and often did demons appear as caprine beasts, so the fact that werewolves transform, willingly or not, into… well… wolves is unsurprising as something the superstitious middle ages feared.

As the afore-stated quote explains, there is a tight connection between the figure of the werewolf and the moon. The power of the moon seemingly tore at souls susceptible to madness and weakened by the arcane. It is interesting how medicine was once explained via folklore and magic, that the outer world the medieval society saw effected, to a physical degree, their minds and bodies. The moon itself has always been the embodiment of the occult and all things below our natural understanding, so in a fictional world like Yharnam wherein the arcane runs riot and werewolves stalk the streets, it is no surprise the prominence of her majesty the moon.

It is said that,

“When the red moon hangs low, the line between man and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with child.” (Byergenwerth note)

Celestial movement betwixt bodies has connotations of something arcane and occultish, they are augurs and presages, telling of past and future events through the eyes of wisewomen. I want to write a piece talking about witches in Bloodborne in relation to the history of witches in… well… our world, so I will avoid delving too deep into the focus of witches themselves. Instead, I want to talk about the way in which madness presents in the early sections of Bloodborne.

When first-time players believe the game to be but a Gothic adventure of hunting beasts and talking to dolls, we encounter a plenitude of lupine creatures — from the Yharnamites themselves, to hulking wolves and dogs. The aesthetic of these creatures is far more canine than anything else, most ardently seen in the Scourge Beasts who quite closely resemble werewolves, what with their wolf-like appearance yet still man-like shape, as if they are crawling on all fours. This beasthood seen across the game is the direct consequence of the greed of the Healing Church. The concept of Blood Healing, the great desire for knowledge, all caused this beastliness. But this beastliness is not that alone, but linked heavily with madness. These people, these creatures, are purposefully vacuous and animalistic; they are, quite literally, mad, and insanity in this game is a tangible thing that corrupts both the mind and the body. The Yharnamites are hairy and Mr Hyde-esque, and this is from their tangible madness, borne of blood, borne of the moon.

To take a slightly different angle, I want to briefly look at John Webster’s Jacobean play, The Duchess of Malfi. Arnold explains:

“It is Ferdinand himself who succumbs to insanity. Ferdinand’s madness takes the form of lycanthropy or ‘wolf madness’, a delusion which had men howling around churchyards at night, pale and feral, convinced that they had turned into wolves.” (Arnold, 50)

The play was first performed between 1613 and 1614, or the very height of the fear of witches. As I said, lycanthropy and witches rose together and trials for both occurred throughout the 17th century. This fizzled out in the 18th, specifically the 1730s wherein laws retracting those that condemned witches began to be passed. (It is quite funny how quickly society realised how barbaric they were being as they neared the Age of Enlightenment). It is interesting to see how trends of society seep into literature at the time, as Arnold explains, Ferdinand endures insanity that takes on the form of something wolfish and lupine. It is a good example of lycanthropy connecting to madness. Another, focusing on the moon specifically, can be seen in this quote by early 20th century historian Edward Geoffrey O’Donoghue,

“Our Saxon forefathers found on the Roman Ridgeway a half-naked creature — a clovewort attached by a red thread to his neck, and they gave the ‘moon-sick’ a good swingering with a whip of porpoise hide!” (O’Donoghue, The Story Of Bethlehem Hospital, 36)

And finally, I just want to briefly touch upon the concept of the group of genetic diseases named Porphyria.

“In folklore, Porphyria gave rise to the myth of the vampire (frightened of sunlight) and the werewolf. The disease itself has blighted northern European royalty for generations” (Arnold, 156)

Of course, there is nothing preternatural about this disease, and in our modern day has concepts of magic causing physical and mental sickness been long outdated. However the concept of an arcane sickness, one borne of something malignant and living, akin to a curse or a hex, is incredibly… Bloodbornian. Just as Bloodborne’s malady causes the figure of the werewolf, so too did the overarching sickness of Porphyria cause visions of vampires. I am not saying there is necessarily any direct relation to Bloodborne here, but only the general… vibe so to speak of something vaguely cosmic. Of madness stolen from the occult.
Of arcane insanity.

Chapter II: The Mad Scholar

“It is melancholy, after all, which afflicts scholars and poets: ‘Melancholy men of all others are most witty.’ Despite the drawbacks of the condition, his ambivalent attitude prefigures that of many modern depressives, who regard the disease as an essential component of their character, even their creativity” (Arnold, 72)

The mad scholar is quite an esoteric archetype that I absolutely adore. From Dr. Frankenstein to Henry Winter, there is nothing more terrifying than intellect that behests malevolence; higher knowledge that covets and destroys empathy. In the search for greater enlightenment, men often become callous and desperate. Avarice is not just the hoarding of gold, but also insight. A lot of what we know now is thanks to the callousness of previous societies. Medicine was trial and error, and a lot of lives were destroyed, a lot of minds and bodies tortured, for the sake of greater knowledge. It is a bleak, vile concept, to some redundant, to others a necessary evil, but I will not delve into these two arguments. Morality became void in the pursuit for knowledge; I wonder then if that is where this trope arose?

“Le Blond’s engraving for the third edition shows the original Democritus, who first dissected living creatures to locate the source of melancholy, sitting under a tree, knife and book in hand, surrounded by the dissected corpses of cats, dogs, and other creatures” (Arnold 70)

The Mad Scholar is more of a literary trope than anything else, but it absolutely existed within real life too. The romantic poets were often seen as mentally unwell, Lord Byron coming to mind; he who was mad, bad, and dangerous to know. But I want to focus here on the famous poet and artist, William Blake.

Blake was known for his evocative, vivid illustrations and art, and unusual politics that were “riotous” during his contemporary. In the first generation of Romantic Poets, Blake set a precedent for the future generations, and became a great inspiration for future poets likely including Byron. But just like the romantic poets as is, he was a controversial figure, and often rumoured to have been made due to these vivid, disturbing illustrations.

“For poets and writers, to be considered ‘mad’ was a form of compliment, hinting not so much at mental instability as divine inspiration.” (Arnold, 46)

Blake’s illustrations depicted angels and religious iconography basked in a grotesque, forced divinity. He was radically Christian, rejecting the social norms of the religion to instead bask in a higher, far more esoteric vision. One of divine imagination, love, and rapture. One can see this embodied in his work where figures are distorted and fluid, geometry is warped and confused. It is all very purposeful, yet disturbing all the same. A look into the mind of a radical theist whose faith is imagination-borne. Furthermore, Blake lived during the Age of Enlightenment when industrialisation was beginning to mar the once-picturesque cities and towns. His poem, London, is itself a critique of urban living of the 18th century:

Catherine Arnold explains that:

“Most significantly, Blake understood that industrialised London, the city of dirnal night, inhabited by miserable natives and the rootless migrants, who had left their pastoral idylls for a life of hardship, was enough to drive anyone to madness.” (Arnold, 139)

and

“[…] and the dreamer William Blake witnessed angels in Peckham Rye and concluded that London itself was driving its citizens crazy” (Arnold, 4)

In short, madness was a greatly prominent aspect to Blake’s life, as most romantic poets, and he was often regarded as himself a mad scholar. If you have played any percentage of Bloodborne, you will probably have noticed this theme…

“What a joy it is, to behold the divine. It must be such a pleasure. You're in my debt, you know. You're in nigh on a beast of the field, but here you are, treading a measure with the gods.” (Patches)

I mention Patches here as his dialogue is notably… vague, manic, almost incomprehensible in his choice of vocabulary. In Bloodborne, Patches takes the form of a Nightmare Apostle; spider-like creatures who exist supposedly as the bestial-versions of Mensis scholars; evidenced by the way few variants closer to the Brain of Mensis have scholarly human heads. The Mensis scholars themselves embody this figure of the mad scholar, what with their inhumane methods and their leader being the infamous, frenzied Micolash. Madness is further confirmed by the prominence of the Frenzy status in Mensis itself — just looking at the Mother Brain causes Frenzy to build. So, with Patches’ reverence for the Amygdala, I wonder if we can connect him to the illustrious William Blake?

Little is confirmed of Bloodborne Patches’ lore, so if we make the assumption that he is some traitorous Mensis Scholar, I wonder then if we can see how his religious views tie into Blake’s. Both are apart of a specific sector, but both take this and turn it into something… malignant, almost. While Blake beautifully corrupts visions of Christ, so too does Patches dissent from the reverence of Mergo to instead worship the Amygdala. I will talk a little later about the influence of divinity in relation to insanity, but specifically for Blake, to the eyes of the general public during his contemporary, his religious outlook brook rumours of insanity.

Other examples of this in Bloodborne is of course the mad Micolash of whom I mentioned, and who I made a previous article on so I won’t go into his involvement much!

The final quote I want to highlight here, then, is:

“A French visitor to Bethlem in 1788 claimed that she saw among the patients ‘great men, scholars and philosophers, and shuddered to think that the fall of a slate, and accidental stumble, or a bullet fired by a child might bring to Bedlam a Lord Chatham, a Locke, or even a Newton.” (O’Donoghue, 408)

The vulnerability of the mind is not something to be taken lightly. This quote highlights that even the most brilliant of individuals can as easily be placed in an institution as any other citizen. I relate this briefly now to Bloodborne in the failures and successes of the scholars of the Church. Moreso, of course, the failures, as it is only Micolash who truly succeeds… until we come along. Laurence is a good example of this. Ambition and knowledge ran riot, but he still could not evade the fate of the Nightmare. Just like every other cleric and scholar beneath him, Laurence is dragged to the Nightmare (or, at least, his soul is, while he is rotting in a Chalice dungeon… but that is a theory for another article).

No matter the intellect of these madmen and women
No matter their lofty ambition and secrets
All men are equal in the end;
All are born of the blood.

Chapter III: The Madwoman

“A 1763 version of Hogarth’s famous engraving even depicted Britannia herself as a lunatic. The image of the warrior queen, as it appeared on the coin of the realm, is drawn on the corridor wall, with Britannia looking particularly distracted.” (Arnold, 115)

Before we go fully into the depiction of madwomen throughout history and Bloodborne, I want to just quickly talk a little in depth about this quote. Britannia became the personification for the British Isles first during the Roman Rule; obvious also in the way her attire matches that ancient era. Notably is she a woman warrior, so it is saddening yet no surprise that she too did not escape the Enlightenment’s obsession with madness and insanity amongst women.

In my Discord server, I asked everyone their thoughts on this topic and have a few more examples to share below. But Eirlyn, my best friend and biggest supporter GIVE HIM SOME LOVE IN THE COMMENTS, shared something very interesting:

“It might be a streeeetch in terms of actual 'madness' but there was like a mass anxiety/hysteria around degeneration theory in Victorian times - that the British population was... declining? Rotting? into a primal state

Health was declining across the working class due to, yk, living and working in Victorian England, but the upper classes (obvs) refused to admit that it was poor working conditions causing it, so they blamed degeneration theory and “bad bloodlines”, that they were naturally regressing into b easts, becoming animalistic, mentally and morally degenerating, and it caused panic and anxiety - even the government investigated it

It’s a solid parallel I think, the upper classes were actively causing the “degeneration” in both Victorian England and Bloodborne, but treated their victims as the failures to avoid responsibility for their own”

This is a fascinating interpretation and I adore this connection. What came to mind immediately was Iosefka and… well… Fauxsefka. The latter used the working class as her experiments, turning them into kin with no morality. She cared not for their lives, a mad female scholar, and gave me the feeling of superiority when it came to her stance in the Choir. I don’t think I need to add much more to this though as it is pretty well-explained, but definitely worth mentioned in regards to the first quote regardless; wherein Britain itself was deemed as a mad country.

But, continuing onto the topic at hand… women!

Female madness was something distinct and differed from the general mental illness that men endured. Women of the previous age, those without the same rights as we today, were constantly vulnerable to sectioning for a multitude of reasons all stemming back to misogyny. From post-partum depression that had women lose their children, to the fear of a sane woman being sent away purely because of her husband’s own depravity. Women were seen as weak nerved, and I have gone over examples of madwomen in literature as a gothic trope before.

Now I have Oopsallstupid in my Discord server to thank for this next focus on Julia Watkins. She linked an article addressing this story by Rachel Peacock.

“Although these norms reflected social expectations rather than lived realities, they acted as a powerful common conceptual framework for many sectors of British society, and those who failed to adhere to these ideals were widely condemned.” (Peacock)

The expectations for women in this era were solid and forced; seen and not heard, to not step beyond the boundaries of civility. The threat of being accused of madness struck fear in the hearts of many due to the infamous tales that leaked from the walls of the infamous Bedlam Asylum. Julia Watkins was one of these such accused. The story goes, in short, that she was desperate to see Queen Victoria to ask her why it was okay that she lived in luxury, while Watkins starved. She was denied entry by the gatekeeper multiple times, until she decided to go to the gatekeeper’s lodge where his daughter resided. Watkins threatened the daughter, who was alone, that if she did not let her in she will destroy her home. She smashed an expensive mirror before the daughter alerted a policeman and Watkins was arrested and taken to court.

“The main purpose behind Watkins’s hearing was to determine whether she was of sound mind. […] the authorities believed that the only reasonable cause for Watkins’s strange and erratic behaviour was lunacy. Rather than calling a medical witness to examine Watkins, the police court magistrate looked at Watkins’s actions to provide insights into her mental state.” (Peacock)

She was deemed as insane due to her actions and “what ifs”, not necessarily her mental state at the hearing.

“Julia Watkins’s case is an illuminating example of the extent to which Victorians perceived madness as being antithetical to norms of respectable femininity.” (Peacock)

This is especially insightful in regards to Bloodborne, a game set in a world inspired by this exact era. I want to highlight here Adella The Nun, an often overlooked NPC who is the very personification of a Victorian madwoman.

Found cowering and praying in the Yahar’gul prison, Adella will not speak to the player unless we are wearing some recognisable attire. Her manner is skittish and her countenance, wan. She is seemingly an innocent holywoman only wanting to help our dear hunter. By advising she go to the Oedon Chapel, Adella will constantly wish to give us her blood, but should we take Arianna’s instead she will become manic and kill her. This sets off a series of events that will eventually align with the Blood Moon wherein Adella will turn mad and attempt to kill us, too.

I want to write a piece talking specifically about her as a “literary madwoman” in the same vein as my piece on Micolash, so I want to highlight what Oopsallstupid explained, relating Julia Watkins to Adella.

“I find that Adella represents this in a fairly complex way. She despises and denounces Arianna for being impure and a "lady of the night." This attitude mirrors certain sociocultural norms in our own world, but Adella herself represents the "hysterical woman" who was similarly scorned. It's important to clarify that Adella's potential killing of Arianna occurs independently of the blood moon that ultimately reduces her to complete madness. Instead, Adella's murderous mental break is born from a blend of jealousy and bigotry. She is the pious, pure, and perfect lady of the church. The same religion which brought Adella comfort and safety (seen in her trust of the Hunter when wearing church-related garb) also drives her to

It is the corruption of the society she was unfortunately apart of, and one can see how we can forgive her for it. All those above her, those with ambition enough to try and ascend, are men. Women in this world know their place; the NPCs like Adella, Fauxsefka and Arianna do not pretend to be anything more than they are. They do not seek ascension, but are victims of it. She goes on to say:

“Adella represents the danger of religion as law, but she also represents the way social pressures can break a person. Adella's "divinely given" purpose in life is to provide her blood, yet she describes her blood as lowly and demonstrates profound insecurity. She is a woman reduced to a single, biological purpose who then witnesses her sole value in life usurped by a woman she deems tainted. How many times has this sort of thing happened throughout history? Women being expected to prove their purity, their fertility, and their value as a servant, only to be cast aside or replaced. How many women have been driven insane by having years of labour rewarded with scorn? How many more were declared insane as an excuse for discarding them?” (@Oopsallstupid)

It is interesting also to see the community impression of Adella. She’s just crazy, a mad bitch who kills the woman that gives a key to the true ending. I don’t often see people sympathise with her; and that’s not to say I am excusing her behaviour here, but she is a victim of the system she is apart of. The more I think about it, and as I was enlightened by the aforementioned quote, Adella is the perfect embodiment of the injustice done to women throughout history. Again, I want to speak at length about this in a separate article, so don’t want to overdo it here, but how interesting it is that we, as a community, can identify these themes and interpret quite literally anything from them. Bloodborne is inherently feminist, so how unsurprising it is that we can find such connections amongst its narrative.

Chapter IV: The Church and Medicine

“Burton was one of the first commentators on madness to recognise the condition of religious mania, condemning it as ‘a vast, infinite Ocean full of incredible madness and folly […] with swift currents and contrary tides, full of fearful monsters, uncouth shapes, roaring waves , tempests, and Siren calms, Halcyonian Seas, unspeakable misery.’” (Arnold, 70 + Burton, 359-60)

The irony of religious mania, as described here, is that there is nothing religious about it. Burton describes it as something completely ungodly, in the same way Blake drew disturbingly divine images, so too does religious mania present as something uncanny and strange… unnatural. In a similar vein to the topic of madness being antithetical to expectations of femininity, so too can we see religious mania as something antithetical to an ordinary manner. If one acts out of character, out of expectation for society, they are often deemed as mad.

In an age where religion was far more prevalent, used as the answer for all manner of natural and medical phenomena, we are not surprised that religious mania was a prominent, frightful thing. Possessions, witches, and demons all existed in the Middle Ages, and these preternatural threats were real worries upon the minds of the layman.

“Religious enthusiasm represented a real danger to those with fragile, delicate minds.” (Arnold, 78)

The Dancing Plague of 1518 was a phenomena in France that lasted from July to September wherein hundreds of individuals took to the mud-laden streets to… well… dance. Due to the era, many Historians have speculated over the reason for this epidemic, and the number of deaths that occurred has been argued. It consisted of a mass hysteria, or perhaps a mass-poisoning, that caused people to dance in the streets until they drop from exhaustion. On the surface, quite a goofy event. But the concept of injuring oneself due to a mass urge to dance for hours on end is… quite ominous. One theory for this is that stress-induced hysteria caused this sudden break in society’s psychology. The era which the plague occurred was one of strife, starvation and disease.

Beyond just the arcane aspects to madness in Bloodborne, we enter Yharnam at the dawn of an apocalypse. We are quite literally upon the turning point of this knowledge-coveted world, the breaking point, and it is evidenced by the mass mania of the Yharnamites. Likely they are enduring mental fog and numbness due to the Beast Scourge, but those men that wander aimlessly the streets, fearful for their lives, aggressive against “outsiders”. Just like the Dancing Plague, Yharnam as a whole is within the midst of a psychological break.

“One is a disease of the body, and can be treated by a doctor of medicine; the other is a disease of the soul, and needs the attentions of a doctor of divinity. Bright assumes the dual role of physician and divine.” (Arnold 67)

Timothy Bright wrote Treatise on Melancholie in 1586; he was a clergyman and a physician. Weaving religion with medicine, theism with empiricism, is what likely kept a lot of medical developments stunted for such a long time. But in relation to Bloodborne, we can already see the connection. The Healing Church — the very name of this institution embodies this concept. Despite the game being inspired by the rise of medical knowledge and research (the time of Joseph Lister for example), the actual development of medicine is sitting firmly before Germ Theory. Incense burns to ward of miasma, blood is used to heal, and there is an ardent allusion to the Four Humours throughout the game. Another member of my server, Max, says that:

“It particularly fits with bloodborne I think because injecting yourself with excess blood and going mad is very fitting with an imbalance of the humours.” (@max)

I wonder at the connotations of this. Does it mean that the Church and Yharnam are on the outside progressive, but truly behind in their knowledge and advancements? Or perhaps the wellness of the physical citizens have been neglected to make room for the egregious greed for knowledge the upper echelons of the Church have prioritised? The Pungent Blood Cocktail item states that blood became more potent than alcohol. The Church did not prioritise the wellness of their citizens, but neglected it instead and caused an epidemic of beasthood, addiction, and — of course — madness. So much so that they are far behind in their medical knowledge, knowledge of the cosmos replacing it in this world.

The church caused this mass hysteria.

Arnold goes onto say:

“Like a surgeon, Burton sets about the task of anatomising melancholy, what it is, with all the kinds, causes, symptoms, prognostics & several cures of it, philosophically, medicinally, historically opened & cut up” (Arnold, 70)

Forty years after Bright, Robert Burton wrote The Anatomy of Melancholy; a large encyclopaedic exploration into the nature of depression. Unlike Bright, Burton was not a clergyman but a scholar. While Bright is Laurence, Burton is Willem. But there are two other figures of importance that mirror these two to a much closer degree…

Chapter V: The Duelling Doctors and Miscellaneous Notes

During the 18th century, Bethlem Hospital had been through a PR nightmare, and rumours of its cruelty was constantly under the microscope of the general public and governors alike. Furthermore, St Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics had opened in 1751 and had taken the crown from Bethlem as the leading practice for treatment of the mentally ill. The leading physician at this institution was William Battie, the author of A Treatise on Madness, and the leading proprietor for evidence that shock therapy works in treating mental illness. 1751 was also when John Monro was promoted to physician in Bethlem, and he became a leading critic of Battie’s “Treatise”, whom he believed was actively working against Bethlem Royal Hospital (which Battie had greatly berated in his book).

“The disagreement between Monro and Battie was not just a medical dispute: it was a clash of personalities, between John Monro, the suave doctor about the town, with his carriage and his silver-topped cane, and the earnest, academic Battie.” (Arnold, 130)

I bring these two duelling rams as a kind of trope found often in medical history. Joseph Lister, he who has been named in the creation of anti-septic, also had plenty of academic rivals who wished for nothing more than his downfall out of some greed or pride. We see this, too, in Bloodborne with, of course, Master Willem and Laurence. Both are academic men, and I can see Willem in Monro, Laurence in Battie. The former is the suave academic, old and wise, cane in hand and traditional attire adorned. While the latter is the earnest academic, the one wishing for change and the envisioning of something different and better. While Willem was stuck in the old ways of Byrgenwerth, imparting wisdom but not escaping the grip of tradition.

“Battie went on to become president of the Royal College of Physicians and his Treatise proved massively influential. Most significant of all, he founded St Luke’s Hospital for Lunaticks, becoming its first physician when it opened in 1751” (Arnold, 131)

The relation here to Laurence and Willem is of course built purely upon tropes — but the fact these two physicians had something to do with the exploration of madness in medicine is certainly important. While the Church specialised in the arcane, as I have been through, madness is closely connected throughout history and literature to the divine.

The penultimate event I want to highlight here in this article very briefly is the Gordon Riots of 1780. This was a riot of severe violence and unrest, motivated by an anti-Catholic idea. Headed by Lord George Gordon, an MP with extreme views on Catholicism, and his conversion to Judaism later on in life (which ultimately had him ostracised and berated). The riots were fuelled in response to the Papist Act of 1778, which gave certain Roman Catholics civil rights once more. With religious turmoil still a radiantly dangerous pursuit, the riots were a real concern and caused a tremendous amount of damage to chapels, the houses of known-Catholics, as well as Newgate and other prisons.

Illustrations of the riots, which had 50,000 people gathered, show a mass of people dancing and cavorting around destruction. It is no so different to that which is seen in Central Yharnam where Yharnamites gather with flaming torches, processions wander armed to the teeth, and bonfires rage beneath a crucified beast. Riots have been known to be barbaric, a mass hysteria, and often bred due to a psychological element. Plenty of people who have been involved in riots throughout history have been less than enthusiastic about the cause. The reason behind many riots being lost in a sea of duplicating emotions. It is an interesting phenomena alone.

“With their demon heads and wild eyes, the rioters were a vision of madness, dirty, dusty, fighting, singing and smashing furniture, before flitting onwards into the night.” (Arnold, 141)

Riotous behaviour has also been linked to mental instability. The mobs of Yharnamites, then, all with the same intentions, remind me of a riot; a hivemind. I wonder if the Yharnamites do not have their own autonomy.

And finally, I have two connections made by two final members of my server! The first one is from Gryphon who says that:

“There's also something interesting in following the way the 1834 poor law and its functional nationalization of the workhouse scheme fit into the general era of Reform and its mix of populist, whiggishly liberal, and anti-revolutionary expansion of rights to the post-Napoleonic early industrial-era middle class, and how it changed in major the treatment of the indigent, including many people who would fall under the category of mentally ill today.” (@Gryphon)

I mentioned this in the previous chapter, but think it is interesting the way in which the lower classes and mentally ill have been treated and ultimately neglected throughout history. The same can be said for Bloodborne, where a wealth divide sits plain as day in the architecture of the city. The higher one goes, the nicer and more wealthy the area looks — the Cathedral Ward clearly being the seat of the upper classes, while the Forbidden Woods and Hemwick Charnel Lane hosts huts and smaller dwellings. The Poor Laws were ignorantly simple law s that developed a distinct divide in class and a vague interpretation of what poor was deserving and undeserving. This, of course, behest neglect of the wellness of these people and mental illness — such as depression, or “Melancholy” — , unsurprisingly, ran riot.

The second is the controversy that surrounded “Shell Shock” or, as we know it now, PTSD.

thekidnexttome writes:

“During the first world war the British military really didn't want research into shell shock to be published into the Lancet in fear of mass desertion from soldiers, going in so far as not diagnosing soldiers with shell shock to keep the 'spread’” (@thekidnexttome)

This links very nicely to, as he says further,

“An institution keeping the consequences of their actions hidden.” (@thekidnexttome)

Shell Shock was the PTSD that stuck with soldiers after they endured the utter hells of life in the trenches. It was characterised most often with fits and episodes proceeding loud noises, and hallucinations making them believe they were back in the nightmare. The effect of trauma on Bloodborne NPCs can be seen with the rise of the Blood Moon alone — an arcane, physical manifestation of madness that seeps into the minds of these poor characters like a parasite. Often, like many faceless NPCs we hear through windows and locked doors, with no prompting other than the very presence of it.

The Healing Church themselves covered up the atrocities of their actions in multiple ways. From the Fishing Hamlet massacre to the Research Hall and Upper Cathedral Ward — from Ebrietas to Rom — the entire institution, including branching factions such as Mensis and Byrgenwerth, are made up of immorality in the name of ascension and the good of humanity. But it is the greed of man that causes this divide, and horrors are hidden from the public despite their helping the development of medicine and the wellness of humanity. It is a bleak, disgusting concept… but one sadly all too prominent. Bloodborne manifests all manner of ideas of madness and medical terror — but it also uses these concepts as tools to comment on the depravity of humanity. As any good Gothic work does, Bloodborne critiques our society long fallen to the throes of callousness.

Are we any more sane than the vacuous beasts we slay?

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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The Gothic is a genre of literature that made its mark upon the start of the 19th century, and has yet to relieve its grasp upon the literary scape. Towering spires, dark looming corridors, haunted manors and all things malignant and supernatural sits nicely within this genre… yet, what if I was to tell you that these particular aspects are not that which makes up the Gothic. Perhaps you already know this, in fact, but Gothicism, as a genre of literature, is not and never has been bound to horror. Not all horror is gothic, the same way not all gothic is horror.

First explored within Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto, and later popularised by the works of Ann Radcliffe, Charlotte Dacre, Matthew Lewis and Mary Shelley, The Gothic was a way for artists to push back against the strict empiricism of the Age of Enlightenment. Emboldened by a desire to once more see the world in the romantic spiritualism it once was, however true or not, the Gothic movement, closely connected to Romanticism, stood strong against reason and fought back against logic. It dissented from painful empiricism in order to allow artists to once more paint the world through wonderment, while touching overtly upon contemporary issues that haunted society at that time. Gothicism, as time wore on, began to stray away from the sub-tropes that became popular amongst the aforementioned writers, and began to be used as a sub-trope itself; as a tool for writers to wield in order to translate their grievances with the world. An example of this is the work of the Bronte siblings: three sister bound by pen and ink, all writing with the intention of expressing their opinions and views that would have shocked the layman should they have said it to their face.

Beyond writers, of whom I will be making constant reference to in this video, other media too uses Gothicism as a tool for them to command their stories. Bloodborne is often seen as Gothic due to the prominence of “Gothic” architecture, werewolves, the supernatural, and 19th century grimdark. But if Bloodborne was set in, say, the modern day without these visual elements… it would still be Gothic. That is because Gothic, in fiction, is not defined by its visual aesthetic, but by the themes and symbolism it behests beneath the surface. Just like all literature, Gothicism relies heavily on the input of the reader and their interpretations herewith. In a world where media must be handed to some people on a silver platter or they will grow bored, it is refreshing and quite a beautiful thing to realise how much studying and research must be gone into analysing video games such as Bloodborne. In fact, I think that video games are some of the best forms of art to encourage this kind of reading from; due to them being incredibly player-orientated. You, as the player, are part of the story far more than you as the reader are part of a book. What I think I am trying to say here, before we go into the first chapter, is RIP Mary Shelley… you would’ve loved Bloodborne.

Chapter I: Romanticism

At the very end of the 18th century did the literary world begin to see a slow yet gradual popularity in what was later coined as “Gothicism”. Labyrinthian castles, a rejection of the Age of Enlightenment and the Hellenistic philosophy that nature can heal all spiritual and emotional wounds; it took the literary scape by absolute storm. Furthermore, it allowed women writers to dip their toes into a genre of literature that was no longer “the typical of their sex”. Though it took a few decades to properly settle in, women could use the Gothic as a way to voice their grievances with society’s expectations and treatment of them. But, this I will go into in more detail a little later.

During the early era of Gothicism that contained such works as Ann Radcliffe, Horace Walpole, and Mary Shelley, did the novels use a far different set of tropes as we will eventually see in the mid-late 19th century. Most prominently, the use of nature as a relief for the horrors that the protagonists endure.

“One morning, being unable to sleep, she arose at a vert early hour. The faint light of day now trembled through the clouds and, gradually spreading from the horizon, announced the rising sun. Every feature of the landscape was slowly unveiled, moist with the dews of night, and brightening with the dawn, till at length the sun appeared and shed the full flood of day.” (Romance of the Forest, Radcliffe, 82).

In this extract does the beautiful heroine Adeline escape from the confines of this macabre abbey to find solace in the dawn. This trope was most common during the early era of Gothicism that aligned most aptly with the rise of the Romantic Poets. Both factions greatly valued what the Ancient Greeks once philosophised and stuck with these ideals in their Hellenistic tendencies within their work. It was a Pagan belief, that worship of nature, but one that poets and authors of all beliefs used to romanticise the beauty of nature.

Though this is not a very prominent aspect of Bloodborne, I think that the absence of it is itself interesting to note. If one journeys to the outskirts, the marrows, of Yharnam, one will begin to see a much less urban environment; the change is quite abrupt, an example being the descent into the Forbidden Woods, but clear to see. I will focus here mostly on these woods and Hemwick Charnel Lane; both rural and more natural areas beyond the confines of Yharnam’s dense anatomy. I think the fact that there is no relief in these two areas shows just how far into depravity Yharnam has descended. With Bloodborne taking from a lot of gothic tropes, the absence of this most ardent one (while it cherry-picks aspects from such works as Frankenstein, which does use this power of nature theme too) is purposeful.

In short, there is no relief from the terror of this city. No place one can hide. The only respite one can find is in the Dream — a place that, to a mortal mind that is not a hunter, does not actually exist. I think this can also be linked to the Cosmicism of Bloodborne. Lovecraft, and other Cosmic authors, often used nature as a base for their incomprehensibility. From the deep ocean in The Call of Cthulhu, to a dense forest in Blackwood’s The Willows, nature and Cosmicism seem to work in tandem with one another. Nature itself is used as the inspiration for a lot of Cosmic works too — most aptly the deep ocean where all manner of creatures exist beyond the bounds of human knowledge. This alone is a Cosmic concept, so for Bloodborne to combine Cosmicism with Gothicism and mix and match its tropes and themes is incredibly in line with its philosophy.

Furthermore, as mentioned previously, the embodiment of Gothicism came about due to an intrinsic rejection for the Age of Enlightenment. During the boom of the Industrial Revolution during the 19th century, artists became side-lined and critiqued through the lens of reason and logic. Religious happenings were being explained through science; and medicine became the forefront for research and development. Industrialisation rejected nature, and so the Romantics rejected industrialisation. This revolution of romanticism made a mockery of this industrialisation. In the same way, I think, Bloodborne’s lore is so steeped in empiricism and academia, where the real reason for the happenings of the world lies deep in chaos and the arcane.

Just as the occult and demonology grew in popularity and began to become prominent aspects to these Gothic works, so too is Bloodborne drowning in these themes. As I mentioned in a previous video, Bloodborne uniquely mixes theism and empiricism to a large degree. Science and logic connect and thread with churches and iconography. Bloodborne makes a mockery, too, of industrialisation as each faction of the Healing Church attempts to commune with theories of Great Ones in all different ways, but the truth lies in chaos. Just as nature is untamed, so too is the will of the Great Ones. It rejects logic and reason, just as the Romantics did, and embraces an incomprehensibility to sits wonderfully inside a Gothic narrative. The Gothic was created as a rejection for modern empirical logic, and Bloodborne, in the world of Yharnam and not necessarily a comment on our real world, too makes a mockery of this desire for straight thinking and corporeal foundation. Nothing is so simple as “placing eyes upon our brains”, or “ascending to the gods”. It cannot be spoken in mortal tongue the true tactics one must use to reach divinity.

Just as the power of nature is a key component to early Gothicism, so too is the power of incomprehensible arcane in Bloodborne.

“But alas! my Lord, what is blood! what is nobility! We are all reptiles, miserable, sinful creatures. It is piety alone that can distinguish us from the dust whence we sprung, and whither we must return.” (The Castle of Otranto, Horace Walpole, 52)

Finally, I just wanted to highlight this quote from The Castle of Otranto as an apt finale to this chapter. It expresses Bloodborne’s philosophy perfectly, that nothing on the fundamental surface truly matters but that which we belief will happen when we die. “It is piety alone that can distinguish us” is a fantastic line that I can hear Lawrence himself saying. Despite early Gothicism having a close connection the pagan believe in Nature’s ability to heal, it is also very heavily involved in theism too. Christianity was still expected of the English, and though atheism began to peak through the woodwork — in such cases as Percy Shelley for example — many authors and poets, who tended to be of more privileged stature in society with apt education, would identify with the Christian faith. It seems that in Bloodborne, the faith of the NPCs are what they cling on to in the face of the apocalypse. A good example of this is Adella the Nun, her being a Nun alone is enough to prove my point here. I want to make a video on her in more detail soon, comparing her to “the literary madwoman”, but I will just briefly say that her madness alongside her piety is the most quintessential of Gothic tropes found more often in closer-contemporary works of writing and visual media.

Chapter II: Monsters and Beasts

“..the world seems full of good men--even if there are monsters in it.” (Dracula, Bram Stoker, 225)

One of the key aspects that makes a lot of Gothic work so enticing to a contemporary audience is the speculative nature to a lot of it. In the later 19th century, save of course our beloved Mary Shelley’s monster, did the use of monsters, folklore, and things inhuman become popular within Gothic works. To explore human morality, mortality, and the human condition as is through something that is not human was a novelty concept popularised by mass-produced serial “penny dreadfuls”. Plenty of serialised or short stories, that became less known as time wore on due to the sheer amount that was written (often by anonymous writers), used folklore and mythological creatures to ignite a sense of terror in their readers. Varney The Vampire, for example, was an 1840s serialised horror story often believed to be one of the first vampire stories (save, of course, John Polidori’s 1819 short story The Vampyre). Though these works tapped a bit more into the horror side of things, and could be argued to be not even “gothic” but “horror”, monsters in longer, traditionally published works, such as Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, or Stevenson’s Jekyll & Hyde, maintain Gothic tropes while also including beasts of all manner.

Monsters and beasts are used in these works as a mirror of our own morality. They are either poor, hapless creatures looking in to the nature of humanity and enduring the throes of nature verses nurture as a result, or creatures that embody our moral vices as a whole. A good example of this is the 1890 novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. This tale explores the flaws of human nature, the ugliness of sin, and quite literally visualises evil. In it, the impressionable young Dorian Gray, influenced by the world’s reaction to his perfection and beauty, begins to grow obsessed with youth and vanity. However, when his friend Basil paints him a portrait, the young man accidentally curses it with one wish to forever remain young. The portrait takes the brunt of his moral ambiguities and sins, and with each vice does it begin to decay and look uglier and uglier. From a slight scowl, to a harrowing image of shame and duplicity.

“You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.” (Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde, 77)

This embodies what Jekyll & Hyde also does. What with Jekyll being the ambitious fool desirous to play god, and Hyde being the very embodiment of man’s sin. The desire to separate man from sin becomes his most dire downfall as ambition rots him from within. Monsters are a tool, used in whichever way the authors sees fit, and this is no different betwixt the Yharnam streets…

There are two types of monsters in Bloodborne. Beast, and Kin. Arguably, Kin is far more alien the monster, but the label is flexible and I will maintain it here. I have a theory that Kin and Beast are on the opposite spectrum of evolution, but not necessarily that one is evolving while the other, devolving. But both are evolving in different ways. To become a beast is not to devolve, but to evolve in the way of something painfully mortal. One is not ascending, but descending. While Kin is not necessarily devolving either, but touching divinity and turning into something from the cosmos. This is another Gothic trope prominent in fiction depicting monsters: duality. There is a constant stride of duality in Bloodborne. From Lawrence to Willem, Beast to Kin, Nightmare to Dream, Loran to Isz — it links wonderfully to the literature I am highlighting here.

Doctor Frankenstein to the Monster, Jekyll to Hyde, Love and Hate, Moral and Immoral — these are themes found across literature, not exclusive to gothic, but notably the works of Shakespeare too. But monsters most ardently are intrinsically a duality. Frankenstein’s monster, for example, is the mirror of humanity itself. Initially weak, naive, childish and clueless; but eventually, from learning from the world, vengeful and cruel. The beasts of Yharnam are no different, and in fact mirror those who created them, unintentionally of course, in the first place. Lawrence, The First Vicar, is an apt example of this with his soul in the nightmare taking on the form of a great, burning beast. He is as vacuous as those he cursed, screaming and wailing. In his pursuit for divinity, he descended to beasthood. Just like Dante, Lawrence yearned for something greater. In order to reach that, he had to go down… down into something far more depraved. He did not have the strength to read Paradise, and is now a prisoner of his own creation.

Beasts and Monsters are beyond just their physical presence in literature, and as I said are tools authors use to share their own philosophy or sociological views. The same as any other Gothic trope, it is they that make something “Gothic”, not the visual aesthetic. A more contemporary example is Asobo’s A Plague Tale duology. This is a game steeped in the macabre, following two siblings and their found-friends as they traverse horrors of the arcane and plague. But the presence of rats here is what makes this tale “gothic” in my eyes. The rats are representations of fury, greed, and wrath. In the first game is Hugo, the catalyst and carrier of the arcane body that causes these seas of rats, to put it simply, is being pursued by people in need of his unique abilities. It is their greed that causes more and more horror to ensue, and it is their cruelty that ends up killing thousands in the process. When Hugo is calm are the rats staved off, but when the anguish of the world is witnessed by a little boy embodying innocence do they flock. In a very similar vein does Bloodborne explore this — that the presence of Kin is from man’s dangerous ambition, the presence of beasts from man’s cruelty and disregard. Monsters represent all things negative at the hands of man, and it is that which is explored in gothic works.

Chapter III: Gender and Women

“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal — as we are!” (Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte,

Of course, and this comes as no surprise, women hold a great importance in the works of the best gothic fiction. Often are they the forefront of the tale — from damsels in distress, to the wild Catherine Earnshaw — and though some authors used this genre as a way to express their unsavoury opinions on women’s role in society, a lot of authors used it in the direct antithesis to that. In the earlier era of Gothicism, lots of texts used women as their victims, making them weak and helpless without a strong hero to come and rescue them. This is prominent in The Castle of Otranto, and quite often Ann Radcliffe’s work too. It was simply a trope in literature, not necessarily part of some strong thoughtpiece on women’s existence, but, unfortunately, the norm. This became less and less popular though as time wore on. The works of the Brontes, and even of Mary Shelley, began to push back against this concept.

Gender as a whole began to be explored, using this trope, as it is and has always been a topic many people have questioned and suffered with. Gothicism is meant to explore society’s woes; addiction, inequality, obsession, sin, grief, etc. So, it is not surprising to see how progressive many authors were back then. The Brontes especially, and I will preface this here by saying we always look at things with nuance. I get tired of people rather childishly insinuating that if an author in the 19th century was racist, sexist, and overall a bit of a dick, we should not read their work and give them a “platform”. Not only is this a crazily immature opinion, but just not how… anything works. If you know in yourself that these things are wrong, that is all the more reason to read these works. Two things can be true at once: a dead author can be incredibly racist to the point of it being quite insane, and also have made a prominent impact on literature with their work. I am saying this because no one back then was perfectly moral in our modern eyes, but the progressiveness of these authors must be taken into context. To believe women should have equal rights seems like the quintessential for morality in our modern day (to normal people… of course there are still some twats who believe otherwise), but for back then it was radical.

Anyway, forgive the rant, I just thought it worth to preface before anyone shouts at me lol.

Then, it is not such a grand, surprising statement to say that Bloodborne is also… about gender and women! Wooaahh no way, right? Crazy insight right there, I know. I’m the first one to observe this, totally.

I won’t go too deep into it as I have a video coming up in the next few weeks that dives into much greater detail the “monstrous women of Bloodborne”, but I will say that the fact that women are the unfortunate victims of the overarching tale (of course, men too suffer in the game, but it isn’t they who are being impregnated by great ones or violated for their unborn child; the women of Bloodborne are monstrously feminine, and femininity is a dire aspect to the game), the fact they are the victims is prevalent. I’ll leave this point here as again, I am writing a much longer video on this topic, but think it worth mentioning regardless!

Chapter IV: Memories, Ghosts and Hauntings

“I looked along the two rays of light; and I saw down into his inmost heart. It was black as night; and on it were written, in the red flaming letters which are the handwriting of the fallen angel: “Without pity and without remorse. He has strewn with misery the paths of others, and he will live to strew with misery the path of this woman by his side.” I read that; and then the rays of light shifted and pointed over his shoulder; and there, behind him, stood a fiend, laughing. And the rays of light shifted once more, and pointed over your shoulder; and there, behind you, stood an angel weeping.” (The Woman in White, Wilkie Collins, 114)

Many Gothic pieces of fiction sit within a strange limbo. Narratively, as I will explain in the final chapter, they are often prioritising immersion and use diary entries and correspondences as their main narrative voice. This, in turn, has an ardent sense of something festering in the past. It is the past that the present narrator often explores, and it is common to find two separate timelines just as important as one another; one in the past, one in the present wherein the narrator is being told the story in some capacity. Anne Bronte’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, for example, uses this structure most aggressively. The account of the mysterious Helen Graham takes up just over half of the entire book. To go on a quick side-tangent also, Wildfell is a wonderful example of how Gothicism can be entirely without the presence of haunted houses or monsters in the dark: it is undoubtably Gothic, yet is far more psychological; exploring addiction and alcoholism through such a visceral lens that one would be surprised to discover it was published in 1848. It is truly so disturbing the way Arthur Huntingdon is described. That— THAT is the essence of the gothic.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

As one of my delightful viewers commented, the gothic can be rightly defined by the exploration of decaying decadence; of memories haunting hallways, ghosts of the past. Often, ghosts and hauntings have the past as their catalyst — in truth, and now I think about it, the concept of the ghost is steeped in memory and the past. The dead haunting, often reliving their death (depending on which folklore one looks at), embodies trauma. Often, these ghosts can be explained via real-world elucidation. An example being The Woman in White wherein Anne Catherick is not, indeed, a ghostly apparition, but a real woman turned mad by the psychological torture of the book’s villain. To relate this to Bloodborne, we can see the phantoms of Cainhurst haunt those castellated halls. They weep and glide, the very quintessential of a gothic visual, and scream when they see us. They are quite literally the embodiment of the Cainhurst massacre, but they are also corporeal. Often, ghosts are metaphysical beings that exist somewhere between life and death — traditionally, unable to be touched. But these spectres are solid, at least once the hunter approaches, and are able to be “killed”.

This is the trope of memory and haunting realised. These women are not “ghosts” but, in whatever Bloodbornian explanation one could fathom (related to dreams and unreality, of course), really there. In the overarching world of Yharnam, their existence is explained “logically”. Not logically from our world, of course, but logically in the context of Bloodborne.

Another way memory and decay displays is not through ghosts at all, but through the very structure of the gothic work. As I mentioned before, a lot of pieces written during the height of the genre are told through diary entries or direct correspondences. Often, the main narrator of the present is entirely oblivious to the details of the past, and have arrived to the location of interest after the trauma, horror, and anguish has taken place. They come to a broken home, and/or meet a broken person. This is seen in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, but also in Wuthering Heights, Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, Frankenstein, The Woman in Black by Susan Hill, so on and so forth. We, the reader, are in the same boat as the present narrator and we learn what occurred through another narrator.

This can be quite jarring to be honest, and it isn’t my favourite trope in the genre, but it is interesting to see how decay can be manifested in so many unique ways. This can be associated with Bloodborne by, of course, the apocalyptic nature of Yharnam. We come to Yharnam as a foreigner, unaware of what has occurred in these lands. I have spoken before on the identity of the player character in souls games — how it is a blank slate, and represents us, the player, ourselves along with other factors which you can find in this video — but this is most ardent when talking about Gothic tropes. We appear to this world that has already experienced the brunt of its tragedy, scarred and marred by all that has occurred before the player arrives. This is not exclusive to Bloodborne alone, but most if not all souls and soulslikes. All worlds are in a kind of apocalypse, sometimes within the midst of its chaos, often directly after when the world is already burning. It is most prominent in Dark Souls 3, for example, where we arrive at the direct end of the world; the moral of that game being not to keep something living that would much rather seek the mercy of death.

Just as a narrator approaches a broken household now shrouded in gloom, so too do we enter worlds long destroyed.

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!” (Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte, 181)

Chapter V: Madness

“So I am mad, you say? You should have seen how careful I was to put the body where no one could find it. First I cut off the head, then the arms and the legs. I was careful not to let a single drop of blood fall on the floor. I pulled up three of the boards that formed the floor, and put the pieces of the body there. Then I put the boards down again, care fully, so carefully that no human eye could see that they had been moved.” (The Tell-Tale Heart, Edgar Allan Poe, 429)

Madness holds a direct connection to the nature of Gothicism. From the madness borne of psychological torture, to the insanity that can fester from death itself, most gothic works depict some notion of madness betwixt their macabre pages. This is also why Gothicism has a very close connection to Cosmicism in its nature. Both depict madness, but Cosmicism perhaps a little more than the former. A great example of a contemporary gothic novel is Laura Purcell’s 2017 piece, The Silent Companions. Here, we see the very quintessential of Rural gothic clearly inspired by the works of the Brontes, for example. A haunted manor, the supernatural, a raging fire, trauma borne of the past and a separate narrator for the future as oblivious to the events to be shared as we. The protagonist, Elsie Bainbridge, is first met in an insane asylum. Now I am writing a video delving into the history of asylums in relation to Bloodborne, so I won’t go into much depth as to why that is alone very important.

The story of The Silent Companions is strewn in intrigue and supernatural occurrences, a fathomless dark and the uncanny. In the end, to put it simply, we know that Elsie is not, indeed, insane, but a victim of greed and such cruelty. The ending is not a happy one, in fact the very opposite, but it is a fantastic book that I highly recommend one reads. Madness here is used as something far more negative, far less powerful of an aspect. For a woman, it was not difficult to be deemed “mad”. Many men, tired of their wives, would claim that they are mad, or adulterers, and have them sent away. Most of the time, it was the men who thrived in this trial and succeeded in their nefarious goal. In fact, there is a famous story of a woman wrongly accused of insanity and sent to an asylum — Elizabeth Packard. She was wrongfully accused of insanity by her malignant husband and sent to an asylum for three arduous years. She was later released, deemed as “incurable” by the supposed “doctors”, and was given back over to her husband who locked her in their nursery and nailed the windows shut. Managing to deliver a letter to her friend who then took it to the judge, he demanded her husband take her to the court and a trial was opened to determine her sanity.

In the end, Packard won the trial and founded the Anti-Insane Asylum Society, fighting to allow divorced women the right to keep their children. Insanity for women was not just a dire fate to succumb to, but a threat men could hold over their heads.

However, this is not the case in Bloodborne.

The game far closely resembles the insanity that exists within Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart. In this harrowing short story, we are led through a series of events by an unnamed, clearly unstable narrator who murders his elderly roommate for being disturbed by his one “pale blue eye”. The narrator goes on tangents of insanity, claims knowledge beyond ordinary mortals and believes himself to be far more intelligent than the average man. In the end, however, as he is attempting to prove his innocence to officers investigating the murder of the old man, he begins to hear the throb of what the narrator believes to be the heartbeat of the old man — under the floorboards, where he buried him. It is the heart that causes the narrator to fold, driven to madness by the sound.

We can already see the connection here to Bloodborne in the way madness is presented by the narrator. If we take this as gospel, the narrator’s experience with madness, and immerse ourself within him, we can see just how insanity manifests itself in Bloodborne too. Madness is a given in Cosmicism, as I mentioned, so it is no wonder how prominent it is across Yharnam. Every NPC we meet, to some degree, is having their mentality tested by the very fact that the Great Ones are so close to their proximity. Perhaps the most famous example of this, however, is Micolash, Host of the Nightmare. He is manic, howling like a dog and running in circles. He is the very quintessential of “insanity”, almost Joker-like in the way he acts. But it is this madness that empowers him. Knowledge, to ascend, is what the scholars of the Church and schools alike all desired. But I believe it is this knowledge, flooding knowledge that no mortal mind can comprehend, that causes this bleak insanity. We find Madman’s Knowledge all across Yharnam,

“Making contact with eldritch wisdom is a blessing, for even if it drives one mad, it allows one to serve a grander purpose, for posterity.”

Madness is power in this world. Of course, brute force is too, but even the most prevalent of hunters in Yharnam go drunk, or, insane, with blood. It is a fate no hunter can escape. Insanity is what Bloodborne is built upon. Just like the narrator from the Tell-Tale Heart (which, granted, is far more horror than gothic necessarily), those frenzied believe they have power beyond man. Those able to wield this madness succeed in touching divinity.

“Ambition, madam, is a great man’s madness.” (The Duchess of Malfi, John Webster).

Chapter VI: Honourable Mentions

Finally, and briefly, I have a few honourable mentions that I want to highlight that might not be overly present in Bloodborne, but still aspects of Gothicism that… makes works Gothic. As the point of my video is to highlight these aspects beyond just the aesthetic tropes found in traditional Gothicism, I thought it worth it!

Firstly, we have the woman in the attic trope. This is something far more specific, but a trope found often in all pieces that have women and their woes as a primary theme. I did make a video on this, comparing Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre to Bloodborne, specifically Lady Maria as this game’s “madwoman in the attic”, so I won’t go into too much detail. But the main body of this trope is madness, female subservience and secrets behind closed doors. It is also used often as an explanation for originally-believed supernatural happenings. In works like Jane Eyre, for example, Jane awakens to see the apparition of a woman with long, black hair covering her face, staring at her in her room. It is a ghastly sight, terrifying, and Jane believes Thornfield Hall to be haunted. That is until Bertha Mason is revealed, Mr Rochester’s previous wife whom everyone believed to have died, or simply disappeared under mysterious circumstances. I compared Lady Maria to this trope in the fact that the “attic” is an important aspect to it. Attics being the highest floor, usually within the roof, of a home, this emphasising something high up — ascension. This can, of course, be compared to the ascension of the Astral Clocktower in the Hunter’s Nightmare, where Lady Maria resides. Furthermore, the fact it is she who is guarding a secret in this nightmare is this trope with an added twist. Usually, the woman in the attic is the secret the reader and protagonist must discover, but in this case, it is what lies beyond the Clockface that is the secret. Secret being, of course, very prominent in Gothicism.

My second honourable mention is addiction and obsession. I mentioned in the chapter on Monsters The Picture of Dorian Gray and its depiction of mortal depravity in Basil Hallward’s painting, but I did not go in much depth the importance of addiction and obsession in that novel. Addiction especially can be connected to Bloodborne in the description for the Blood Vial:

“Once a patient has had their blood ministered, a unique but common treatment in Yharnam, successive infusions recall the first, and are all the more invigorating for it. No surprise that most Yharnamites are heavy users of blood.”

and in the description for the Pungent Blood Cocktail

In Yharnam, they produce more blood than alcohol, as the former is the more intoxicating.

Blood became an addiction amongst the Yharnamites, thus the ease with which the Beast Scourge spread. In a similar way to Dorian’s addiction to perfection, Gothicism uses all manner of mortal vice as themes. Another being Obsession which can be both Dorian Gray’s obsession with the portrait, or his peer’s obsession with him. In turn, we can see obsession in Yharnam through the Healing Church. Ludwig’s obsession with his guiding moonlight, the scholar’s obsession with ascension and knowledge; obsession is a close friend of madness, after all.

Thirdly, and something far more Soulslike than anything I have mentioned yet, I think, is the trope of “Found Documents”. This concept stems from the concept of a narrative voice. From Dracula where you read through diaries and correspondences to immerse yourself as if the story actually happened, to The Woman In White which is told through a series of letters in turn. It is very common for Gothic works to be told through a “real” voice, letters and diaries, to help immerse the reader in this fictional disturbance. I wonder then if we cannot compare this to the way in which Souls games communicates their stories to the player. Souls games are infamous for the way their lore is so very ambiguous unless one is looking for it. From vague environmental storytelling, dialogue, and item descriptions, a lot of the story is told in quite a… realistic manner. As a lore prospector, it often feels as though I am an archaeologist analysing relics of the past in order to piece together a tale. It feels real, as if we are actually in this world looking for evidence to make our conclusions. It does not guide you by the hand because you are the Tarnished, the Chosen Undead, the Hunter not from this land, clueless to what has occurred here and finding out. The player character in the game is just as oblivious as the player themselves controlling them.

I hope you see where I am going here, but I find that the way Gothic works are often written can be compared quite aptly to, in turn, how Souls stories are. Of course, it isn’t 1:1… as this is a video game, not a book, and thus has to use different methods of communication with both positives and negatives for both mediums, but by comparison, I think it is interesting to consider.

And finally, we have something that is more often seen in sensationalist works — a literary subgenre that used Gothicism but in a far less radical way, enforcing the stereotype of a woman’s nerves and their weakness of heart. It was often found in light, romantic work written for women, or in the earlier era of Gothicism. That trope of a woman’s weak nerves, though perhaps not alone making something “Gothic” is something I thought worth to mention regardless as it is very often seen in pre-20th century literature. It is that “fainting woman”, those that swoon upon any idea of something harrowing and cruel. Sadly, it was a popular trope, and inspired young women at the time to act in such a manner, but was pure… propaganda in a way. In the 19th century, women began to be far less deferential, and many began to question their apparent role in society. Women became writers and scientists, eager and ambitious as they should be. Many began to be less complacent with their subservience to men and began to question why they should be expected to be dolls while the men ruled the world.

It was Queen Victoria who also helped this revolt against patriarchal norms; though accidental, as she was quietly opposed to women’s suffrage. Being only the 7th female monarch after Queen Ann in the early 18th century, Victoria stood as a powerful, lone monarch who led the country to financial prosperity — through… some nefarious deeds though, but I won’t touch on that for the sake of brevity. This alone inspired women, and the trope of the woman with frail nerves began to fizzle out as we got closer to the 20th century. Women even began to mock this trope, an example being Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen; a satire on early Gothicism as a whole.

This, of course, is less prominent in Bloodborne where women take a leading roll and powerful, frightening women exist unapologetically, but being a video not just about the game, I thought it worth mentioning anyway! My readers know how I love to ramble about topics that fascinate me haha.

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An archetype is defined as “the original pattern or model of which all things of the same type are representations or copies” (Merriam-Webster). It is often used within fiction alongside various tropes pertaining to a certain genre. An example being the Shakespearean Tragedy, wherein an archetype would be the Tragic Hero, Tragic Heroine, or Comedic Relief. We see this across genre-literature, classic Gothicism too aligning with this theory with the traditional Damsel-In-Distress, Covetous Aristocrat, and Gothic Hero. I think it is a given to say, on this channel at least, that Bloodborne mirrors a plethora of literary theories, tropes, and themes and translates it wonderfully into the medium of video games. Thus, it is no surprise then that it also uses traditional Gothic archetypes in its characters. The Literary Madman is the title I have coined to explain this. Insanity and mania is a topic explored across 19th century literature due to its prevalence within society. During the Age of Enlightenment, no longer could frenzy be explained via religious nor spiritual means, and the question of what is causing the madness arose. Thus, it was no surprise that it became a prominent theme in Gothicism — one of those defining tropes, even, and if you want to learn more about that in regards to Bloodborne you can check out this video.

So, because of this prominence, it is no wonder Bloodborne makes plentiful use of it in more ways than one. Now I mention in that aforementioned video the theme of Madness as a game mechanic and trope, and touched lightly on Micolash but did not go into much depth. I will not, then, talk about madness as a mechanic, the connotations to madman’s knowledge and the cosmicism herewith. Instead, I want to analyse Micolash as a Literary Madman.

Naturally, there is a kind of divine greed to madness that is presented in this way. It is psychotic, frenzied, a complete loss of logic and earthly reason. In the madness that Micolash presents, for example, it is a belief in something greater. It is the flood of knowledge that overwhelms and overcomes the mind, and that turns many vacuous, but Micolash has retained his humanity. Thus his position as head of the School of Mensis, and of course Host of the Nightmare. Arguably, Micolash is the one NPC in the game that has touched divinity. He is the closest to the Great Ones, to communing with greater conscience. Thus, his madness stems from this knowledge and is embedded in this this psychosis.

“True! —nervous— very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am: but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my sense —not destroyed— not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute, I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then am I mad?” (The Tell-Tale Heart, Poe, 420)

The narrator of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell Tale Heart, nameless, is a kind of psychotic that embraces a sort of romance with his language. Madness, in prose, is linked to romance. Now let me explain: I do not mean romance as in love, but romantic as in elevated, poetic prose. Micolash, between howls, spouts poetry and verse in a kind of premonition. His language is notably elevated and poetic, not unlike the Tell-Tale Heart whose narrator speaks, as that quote shows, in a manner incredibly similar, and telling of the era the story was written. In the quote, too, do we see a glimpse of this desire to elevate, and this belief that one is already above the ordinary man in their intellect. Whatever caused the narrator in the Tell-Tale Heart’s madness also caused his great intellectual arrogance. This is what links very closely to Bloodborne’s Cosmicism. Both genres, Gothic and Cosmic, use very close themes and tropes that often end up overlapping in some way or another. This is one of them — madness that manifests as if the maddened has truly ascended and seen something they perhaps should not have.

It is easier to compare this to Micolash as Bloodborne very overtly weaves both Gothicism and Cosmicism betwixt its narrative, but it is the interesting to read the Tell Tale Heart through this genre. Lovecraft was openly incredibly inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, and confirmed so in his essay “Supernatural Horror in Literature” wherein he states (in his chapter dedicated to him):

“Whatever his limitations, Poe did that which no one else ever did or could have done; and to him we owe the modern horror-story in its final and perfected state.” (Supernatural Horror in Literature, H.P Lovecraft).

as well as:

“Certain of Poe’s tales possess an almost absolute perfection of artistic form which makes them veritable beacon-lights in the province of the short story. Poe could, when he wished, give to his prose a richly poetic cast; employing that archaic and Orientalised style with jewelled phrase, quasi-Biblical repetition, […]” (Supernatural Horror in Literature, H.P Lovecraft).

The influence Poe had on his work is clear in plenty of his fiction (I like to mention the short story Ligeia at this point as both this and Lovecraft’s writing style match up perfectly… both are as dense as the other… okay no more Poe slander I promise. If you joined my last stream you will know how much I despise Lovecraft’s writing. [clip].

Thus, I argue this is another way that Lovecraft used Poe as inspiration — madness that succeeds a belief in a higher intellect; in a conscience that can sense something within the invisible throes of nature; metaphysics manifest. It is a very specific kind of insanity though, thus my focus on it here, and as I say it is very often seen in works of Cosmic Horror, not exclusive to Lovecraft. Another example being Robert Chambers’ The King In Yellow wherein a mysterious play, one that should not be witnessed by a mortal mind, makes its way, somehow, around the world; to put it very simply. This has an eerie Cosmicism to it, and causes those who gain this knowledge to turn insane due to a sudden flood of knowledge that they should never have known. This concept alone is… ominous and unsettling, but paired with body horror and more overt incomprehensibility… one will have Micolash.

Likely, Micolash was an eccentric to begin with, but an avid director of the School of Mensis — this being a School of thought founded by this elusive scholar. The School of Mensis had it right in more ways than one… Mensis being the Latin for month in which menstrual has its roots… just saying just saying…
But the Mensis Scholars had it right, better than any other school of thought in the Healing Church, purely due to their conclusion. The School was transported during the Mensis Ritual to the Nightmare Frontier and they did, indeed, commune with the Gods. I wonder at the significance of the Mensis Cage, described as:

“The School of Mensis controls the Unseen Village.
This hexagonal iron cage suggests their strange ways. The cage is a device that restrains the will of the self, allowing one to see the profane world for what it is.
It also serves as an antenna that facilitates contact with the Great Ones of the dream.
But to an observer, the iron cage appears to be precisely what delivered them to their harrowing nightmare.“ (Mensis Cage)

A bit of a tangent here, but I wonder if the cage itself is a kind of clue as to what the Scholars had to do in order to ascend as they did. It was only Micolash who survived this after all, and do we just assume it was because he was the most proficient? The strongest of mind? Or something else? The Great Ones infamously do not hold much care of mortality, thus likely their failure to have a surrogate child due to their lack of gentility, and so the deaths of a thousand or so scholars, children, even, would mean nothing to them. I wonder if Micolash did not only ascend, but twisted his mind to become like that of a Great One — he ascended in mind and in body in a fashion, and was the only one willing to dismiss notions of sympathy and empathy, mortal vices, in order to get to where he was. Perhaps it was greed that, in the end, allowed him to achieve his goal. But at what cost? Indeed, his sanity.

This is pure speculation and interpretation. The beautiful thing about souls games as is, and something I will never stop preaching, is the room for interpretation that is just so very wide. If one can fight their corner, bring evidence, and have a means to defend their interpretation, then any and all are valid. Of course, this one was a little off the cuff, but still some food for thought.

Micolash truly is an interesting case of a literary Archetype being brought into another medium. As I said, I do believe that Bloodborne (and all of Souls games) are fantastic examples of how video games can adapt the medium of books as a whole — not just one specific story, but the very medium of a book.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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(note: the lore in this one is a lil dodgy so forgive anything that is blatantly incorrect… just uhh… pretend it isn’t…)

“There is a vast melancholy in the canticles of the wolves, melancholy infinite as the forest, endless as these long nights of winter and yet that ghastly sadness, that mourning for their own, irremediable appetites, can never move the heart for not one phrase in it hints at the possibility of redemption.” (Source: Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber Short Story Collection)

Mournfully do they cry for her majesty the moon; the connection between wolves and moonlight is no accident within the Lands Between. I always wonder at what is coincidental in these games; what is simply the interpretation of the player, entirely beyond the control of the developers. As a writer myself, a friend who proof-reads for me often comes with his own interpretations and even assumes I made reference or metaphor to some aspects that I actually did not. But this is not one of those moments for Elden Ring, as though the symbol of the wolf is a slightly more covert theme that takes conscious observation to notice, it is everywhere.

From the pack that descends from the storm upon the road to Margit, to Blaidd the Half-Wolf and the concept of an Empyrean’s Shadow — this video seek to will highlight and analyse the importance of this wolfish motif, relating it to literary, theological, and mythological examples throughout history. As always, I want to highlight the different interpretations one can discover from these depictions and the prominence of wolves throughout the game.

The wolf is and has been, after all, symbol for all manner of ideas and concepts. Wisdom, wildness, family, deceit and loneliness. The wolf is itself a contradiction and incredibly fluid in the way it presents in media. It could be tamed or wild, instinctual or wise, alone or with company. Elden Ring uses this symbol throughout its factions and world — a fluid figure of the Age of Stars, Age of Dragons and Albernaurics.

Chapter I: Call of the Wild

It is said that every Empyrean is given a Shadow — “vassals” granted by the Two-Fingers. There is speculation already of what these Shadow’s purposes are. From protection, a manifestation of a mortal life, or merely to help the Empyrean in their pursuit of godhood. But what stands out is that Shadows are ofttimes wolves.

According to the old legends, wolves are the shadows of the Empyrean. Vargram aspired to such a state himself. (Source: Raging Wolf set)

Vargram is the unseen NPC who donned the iconic Raging Wolf armour; the first Tarnished to enter the Roundtable Hold. He is the poster-child for the game, John Elden Ring himself really, so it emphasises the importance of a Shadow in this world. He yearned to achieve the title of Shadow, thus confirming that the title of Shadow is not awarded to those of wolfish DNA alone, but those who hone the philosophy of a wolf — who live by their doctrines, and align with their symbolism. Whether this embodying of the title of Shadow causes some kind of physical transformation I do not know, but regardless it is interesting to think that one can become a Shadow without the need for a wolfish appearance. Yet I think that there may be some kind of metamorphosis into that shape; perhaps it is just a theory of mine and not backed up wholly by the lore, but it is something I think worth to mention anyway.

The Bloodhound Knights are an ambiguous faction within the game that we know little of. Their armour set description reads:

“The Bloodhound Knights are trained as hunters and known to be unshakable trackers.
Without the use of language, each knight chooses his own master. Once the decision has been made, the knight stays loyal for life.” (Source: Bloodhound Knight set)

I think the connection between they and Blaidd tells us more than we need to know as is. He calls Darriwil, he locked within an evergaol, a traitor, and I believe that this gives him some connection to Ranni. Though I do not think that the Knights are in any way shadows, there is an unmistakable presence of canines and loyalty that seems to leak into different themes and factions. Likely, Darriwil was a Bloodhound Knight who served Ranni when she was human; either helping her in her nefarious deeds against the Two-Fingers, or given to her as a consequence of her royal blood. It was likely that, upon her shedding of her mortal flesh, he no longer wished to serve and thus was labelled a traitor. Loyal, as any good dog should be, Blaidd stayed divinely by Ranni’s side and we catch him at the very start just as he is looking for his past-companion.

Another example of this devout loyalty too is Bloodhound Knight Floh, whose ashes read:

“Spirit of a Bloodhound Knight they called the Rabid Stray. Will attack without pause immediately after being summoned. Floh vowed that there was only one lord he would ever serve: a true king. And so, the Rabid Stray never found a master.” (Source: Bloodhound Knight Floh ashes)

Solidifying the idea that these knights desire one master and that alone. A theory regarding Floh, who is found guarded by Red Wolf of the Champion in the Gelmir Hero’s Grave, is that they were searching for Rykard to serve. If they were searching for a true king, perhaps led by rumours of Rykard’s glory and fortitude, only to be sorely disappointed when they discover he gave himself to be consumed by the great serpent.

Relating back to Vagram and the concept of transformation, though the Knight’s race is ambiguous and not spoken of, their stature reminds me of perhaps Maliketh who, despite his quadruped stance, does not seem to be fully a wolf. These, too, look oddly lycanthropic but not quite fully wolfish. They’re gangly and fluid in their movements, but certainly live up to their name of hounds. I wonder if they were once human before they look up their oath of Knighthood. During the middle ages when being a Knight was an apt occupation to pursue, oaths, loyalty and chivalry were sought after virtues. I wonder if these knights, too, had to undergo some lupine metamorphosis. But they still seem to be lesser creatures than Shadows in the way they do not speak, but growl and wail like dogs; while Shadows seem to maintain an ability to speak.

Would it be then that Vagram, if he ever made it to the role of Shadow, would transform — werewolf-like — into a wolf? Maintaining some human aspects such as speech and perhaps stature? Maliketh is far more wolflike than Blaidd who is, in turn, more anthropomorphic. Transformation and metamorphosis is a favourite theme amongst souls games, and that is no different in Elden Ring where Graven Masses and Aeonia exist. Could this be a bit of a subtle reference to the werewolf? As we will go into in a later chapter, the moon is of great importance in the Lands Between, and this discussion on shadows being closely linked to both Rennala and Ranni emphasises its importance.

Is there then a kind of wildness to loyalty? A tempest attached to protection? There is one purpose attached for definite these wolves and that is to protect those they are told to. Then, why do the Red Wolves exist?

Adorning a fiery red mane, they are emphatic beasts that stand, graceful and glorious, as stark protectors against those who dare threaten their masters. However, who are their masters? So, this theory I discovered on a Reddit thread which I will link below if you wish to peruse, but it outlines that these Red Wolves were commanded by Radagon to protect those who holds dearest. There are 6 wolves in total across the Lands Between, one for each of Radagon’s children and a final for Rennala. They were left by Radagon when he pursued a co-consciousness with Marika and thus, godhood. And here we see, once more, that bleak loyalty. These wolves are not Shadows, if we take my theory that Shadows maintain an ability to speak for example, but protectors in a similar vein to the Bloodhound Knights, loyal to their masters.

So it then begs the question. Who are the wild, ordinary wolves one finds throughout the Lands Between loyal to?

Chapter II: Three’s A Company of Wolves

There is at the very back of Maliketh’s arena a most prominent effigy that has been questioned time and time again by the community. A young woman prays downward while three wolves encircle her. They are not predatory nor seeing her as a free meal, and she is not begging for her life, but they seem to be protecting her, interested and, as I will explain later, awaiting something. This statue sits beneath a depiction of the Elden Ring itself, that of Marika’s lineage (as there have been other forms of the Elden Ring throughout time). Many have speculated the meaning of this, and though we have all collectively agreed that it represents the blessing of intellect to beasts by Queen Marika, those that we now know as Beastmen and Misbegotten, I want to dive a little deeper into this.

The rule of three is a common motif found throughout mythology, literature and history as a whole. What comes to mind when I think of it is our natural inclination to be satisfied by the rule of three. It is a piece of advice often given to young writers, that when one needs to list something in a narrative, one should aim to is a list three things in a row as it is, as I said, more satisfying and reads far more smoothly than two, one, or four. Furthermore, it allows the reader to remember more aptly whatever it is you are naming.

Since Elden Ring takes from all manner of mythology and theism, a sort of amalgamation of all different inspirations (as most fantasy does, since the very beginning was it an allegory for Christianity with The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe), it isn’t much of a surprise to see the rule of three depicted here, most aptly with the wolf imagery. From the Holy Trinity to the very concept that all events present, future, and past occur in a pattern of threes.

Thus, we can see how the rule of three exists here, in three wolves; both in the statue, and also the Lone Wolf ashes.

“Spirits of wolves chased from their pack. They later encountered a nameless Tarnished, who welcomed them as hunting companions.” (source: Lone Wolf Ashes)

Their dissent from their pack holds a lot of prominence here, and something one can use in many different interpretations. I argue that these three wolves represent Ranni, Blaidd, and the Tarnished themselves. The idea to dissent is shrouded in a thick mist — in wildness, animalism and the very antithesis to order. Order is a prominent concept in Elden Ring, what with the Golden Order and the desire to control fates being the main themes of the game. Thus, wildness is unwanted and perhaps even seen as heretical to the order itself. The Two Fingers certainly desire the events of the Tarnished to be performed in a certain way, due to their Finger Readers’ prominence across the map.

Furthermore, Ranni’s connection to the wolf runs far deeper than just her relationship with Blaidd and her empyrean blood. This is something I am going to dive into in the final chapter of this video, but her ardent connection to the moon is something of dire note here. But, I will go into this in more detail later.

Returning to the rule of three in relation to the statue in Farum Azula, there is a great emphasis placed on this effigy. The irony that it is placed in a room practically built from the bones of past beastmen already begins to show Marika’s vice. Though she granted intellect to the beastmen, each and every choice in her reign is shrouded by a deep-set irony. She is depicted as an eloquent, divine being but her intentions are sullied. Of course, this is all speculation and Marika’s intentions and overarching character arc is not overt, but full of nuance. But this desire to bring the beastmen into a state of mortal intelligence once more backs up the idea that to be wolfish and canine is to be wild and thus unworthy of order; rejected by order. In the Age of Dragons, Placidusax’s reign, the beastmen were that which worshipped and served the dragons. To give the beastmen intelligence is to free them from this subservience and give them autonomy. This is what I think Marika values a lot in her subjects — autonomy within order. Wildness is rejected as it is the complete lack of order. So to give intelligence to wolfish creatures (exactly like Blaidd), it keeps one in control without forcing them into slavery.

That is why, when Ranni secures the Age of Stars, Blaidd’s mind is broken by the Two Fingers and he is forced into a kind of unwilling wildness. This was his own punishment for this failure to keep Ranni on the right path, but his connection to the Lunar Princess is so strong that he does not merely return to a wolfish vacuousness, but battles with his own conscience, as if split in two.

Another interpretation is that this figure is not Marika at all, but an arbitrary Empyrean being protected by her shadows. This would also make sense in that, of course, it sits only in Maliketh’s arena, but it does beg the question of why it is there in Farum Azula of all places too. It could be both a reference to the role of a Shadow, but also of gained intelligence to the beastmen.

As a side note too, this theory of wildness — going against human order — is strongly emphasised in Fantastic Mr Fox (one of my favourite films). The wolf in this depiction sits upon a cool threshold beyond the warm homeliness of the foxes. This wolf is a quadruped, contrasting Mr Fox’s more anthropomorphic stature, and does not speak. In the interaction, Mr Fox attempts to communicate in all manner of witty ways, ever showing off, ever expressing his intellect and, in a way, arrogance. But the wolf does not answer, but merely stands as a dark figure against the untamed wild.

In the end, Mr Fox raises his fist — a universal sign of camaraderie, of brotherhood. The wolf mimics, a physical movement he understands. It is an emotional scene, beautifully crafted with such a metaphorical weight, and encapsulates a turning point for Mr Fox’s character. Wildness is manifest in this wolf; a lone wolf, specifically. I will delve into this idea of a lone wolf in the final chapter, but I thought this was worth mentioning regardless!

Chapter III: Wolfishly Familiar

Albinaurics are an artificial race of man-made creatures spanning two generations. The first are the weak-legged humanoids, the second are…. forg….

Focusing of course on the first generation, that which contains people like Gaius and Latenna, these beings have quite a strong connection to animals who in turn serve them in order to help them travel. These Albinaurics have weak legs that eventually wither, and thus rely on these beasts. I think there is a prominence to the fact that these beasts are, more often than not, wolves. The Albinaurics, as man-made entities, rejected by the Erdtree and cannot return to it upon death. Thus, they seek the solace of Miquella’s Haligtree, where all who are shunned by the Erdtree may find succour amongst this mirrored, autumnal tree.

If we take the theory of the last chapter as gospel, that wolves represent wildness and thus are more often than not shunned by the Golden Order (not necessarily the Erdtree), then it would make much sense that these Albinaurics seek the help of those also shunned by society. This represents the sheer opposites that wolves can be interpreted as. From 19th century fairytales where wolves symbolise distrust, duplicitousness and betrayal, to mythological depictions that show wolves as a symbol of protection, spirituality, and kinship. In relation to the latter, I want to briefly touch on the Ancient Roman myth of Romulus and Remus. These two brothers, the sons of Princess Rhea Silvia and God of War Mars, were threats to King Amulius, and thus thrown into the Tiber River to drown. Alas, they were saved by a she-wolf, Lupus, and nursed by her to grow into strong, wild, protective men who were eventually taken to be raised as shepherds.

This depiction of a wolf, as maternal and divine, a female no less, sits wonderfully within this story of the Albinaurics, especially Latenna’s questline. We meet her coddling the corpse of her wolf, Lobo, killed by Gideon Ofnir’s followers in search of the Haligtree, Latenna is now stranded. If we approach while bearing the Haligtree Medallion half, she will reluctantly abide us despite her distrust of Tarnished such as we. But upon accepting, we will be able to take her, as a spirit, to Castle Sol wherein she will guide us to the second half. Here, she will ask if we will be so obliged to take her to The Liturgical Town, Ordina. Liturgy, by the way, meaning a ”form or formulary according to which public religious worship, especially Christian worship, is conducted.” (Source: Mariam Webster).

She wishes to find Phillia, the large Albinauric quietly slumbering Apostate Derelict, awaiting her purpose. And what is that? To bear children. Though vague, I believe that Latenna holds a droplet of Silver Dew that is the item needed for a special Albinauric, Phillia specifically, to birth further generations. Of course, these people are artificial, so to gain this ability is promising news for the race, and also defies their purpose and frees them from whatever duty they were forced to endure. Phillia is a kind of saint to the Albinaurics, and the theme of fertility continues most aptly here where pregnancy is regarded as sacred amongst this matriarchal group. Just as Lupus nursed the helpless Romulus and Remus, so too will Phillia save the Albinaurics from extinction. She is a mother… and people say Souls games doesn’t celebrate womanhood…

Chapter IV: That Orbed Maiden

“This moon was encountered by a young Ranni, led by the hand of her mother, Rennala. What she beheld was cold, dark and veiled in occult mystery.” (Source: Ranni’s Dark Moon)

It isn’t particularly insightful to explain that wolves throughout history have been associated with the moon. From their mournful howls upon a moon-laden night, to the myth of the werewolf only transforming under the eye of her majesty the moon. In short, the moon and the figure of the wolf are tightly connected. Furthermore, there is a tight connection between the moon and motherhood. This comment I found enlightened me to this duel connection of Ranni to Dark Goddesses. Both Ranni and Rennala have an ardent connection to the dark; Ranni especially, what with her dark moon. The moon can only be seen when the sky is in umbra; the night itself, darkness importantly, has connotations of horror and something threatening hiding in the dark. It incites the unknown, and this is intrinsically frightening. However, the moon lights the way. This commenter mentions Hecate, the Greek goddess of Witchcraft, the night and Crossroads. Her association comes from followers of her often performing their rites and giving their offerings under a dark moon; or, Deipnon. But most importantly here is she linked to a Triple Goddess trope in the mythology.

Selene represents the full moon, Artemis the crescent, and Hecate the dark moon. In this way, Selene would be Rennala, Artemis Renna, and of course Hecate would be Ranni. I wonder then if it cannot be interpreted that Ranni herself represents a wolf. The traditional Grey Wolf are associated with the cold, living in climates that endure snow in the winter, which furthers this interpretation that Ranni — who took the form of a snow witch, and is deeply connected to all things cold, including the moon — could represent a wolf herself.

Her pack is Blaidd, Iji, Seluvis and we. In the end, it is Ranni who becomes the lone wolf. As this substack post explains:

“With the emergence of Romanticism, the concept of the Lone Wolf emerges as symbolic of the isolated individual. Neither a villain, nor prey, the wolf in this context is now an emblem of alienation, and of freedom.” (Source: )

Alienation especially suits Ranni’s storyline, wherein she alienated herself from both her fate, but also her family in the end. Once our duty has been fulfilled, she sacrifices her beloveds, her found family — her pack, in order to walk the road to the Age of Stars alone; we, her consort. I believe her story mirrors Miquella’s too; one, the moon, the other is the sun. Both sacrifice their essences, and those they held dear, to attain their goals and become a lone wolf. One, perhaps, more callous than the other.

Reverence of the moon is also a romantic idea, where the romantic poets idealised the hellenistic period. Poets such as John Keats and Percy Shelley used ancient myth within both their work and their lifestyles, the latter a big advocate for the concept of “free love” and “polyamory” (sadly, despite Mary Shelley’s discomfort with it). With this romantic connection, it is no surprise then that Ranni could be seen as a lone wolf herself. Fromsoft uses all manner of mythological and literary inspirations, and so I do not think this is a very far fetched idea.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

If you wish to donate some echoes, do consider doing so here, or subscribing!

❛ buy me a coffee ❜

Subscribe now

Otherwise, may you find your worth in the waking world <3

❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

“I learned to recognise the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both.” (source: Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde)

Transformation, and metamorphosis, is a key theme throughout From’s titles. From the Hollowed to Scarlet Rot-infested mortals; Dragonrot to the very essence of madness in Bloodborne — physical transformation is often connected to the more metaphysical, spiritual or psychological consequences in these worlds. In fact, it is a common trope throughout fantasy as is, that physical corruption that can transform the very soul. Bloodborne is no different, and madness is a corporeal vice that mutates even the most steadfast of hunters; Ludwig, unfortunately, is no exception. However, I believe Ludwig is a special case where the rules of transformation do not rightly apply. As I write this, I am currently playing Wuchang: Fallen Feathers, and the Feathering in a sickness that corrupts body and soul; it turns the infected into vacuous, bird-like amalgamations. This is the very quintessential of transformation, but Ludwig’s ailment manifests in a unique manner: not being one linear trajectory from intelligence to witlessness, but acting more like as can be seen in Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 short novel, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.

The duality of good and evil within a man’s soul became the forefront of speculative and gothic literature during the last few decades of the 19th century, most aptly explored in Stevenson’s novel, and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. Both pieces of literature delve into morality and the concept of a physical corruption born from a malodorous soul. Bloodborne, overtly taking from a wide range of 19th century Gothic works, adapts this concept in the beast scourge itself. With a healthy sprinkle of Lovecraftian augur, it brings a physicality to a soul shrived by both knowledge and sin. With the actual “plague” of beasts being a bit of a misnomer in the overarching story, there is something to be said about the unreality that is presented in the Old Hunter’s DLC.

What we encounter in this festering place are adjacent to lost spirits; to a hell.

“A hunter who goes drunk with blood is said to be taken by the Nightmare, destined to wander forever, engaged in an endless hunt. It is a fate that no hunter can escape.” (Source: Eye of a Blood Drunk Hunter)

These souls are being tortured in eternal beastliness. Not beasthood, but an animalistic wildness that ignites a constant, simmering rage within their being. Insanity must surely run riot throughout these mirrored streets; where a river of blood flows freely; and at the end of this river sits a corpse pile where our focus resides, surrounded by a thousand dead yet still living in writhing agony. It is a sight only Dante could have envisioned… for an unsightly beast — a great terror looms. Ludwig the Accursed is coming…

His first phase is manic and insane. You are fighting a beast, one that screams as any other does, and has nothing particularly to separate it from the others you have killed beyond its horse-like appearance. It is messy and frenzied, biting and wailing; enduring a paroxysm of frantic movement but it does not look so much as a survival tactic as something fuelled by the same rage as these Old Hunters we have passed. Ludwig is Accursed — irremediable.

The strings tremble and the very music cowers from this hulking creature it is forced to narrate. And when we make it to phase 2, the choir themselves tremble at what is to happen — that anticipation, that corporeal dread. They warn you; humanity retrieved, you are no longer fighting a mindless beast. You are fighting a lucid warrior. From Mr. Hyde rises Dr. Jekyll.

A cacophony of chivalrous glory and honour, but that underlying beasthood remains ever tethered, ever tempting chaos.

But not all is lost.

“These hunters, also known as Holy Blades, are what remains of an ancient line of heroes that date back to a very early age of honour and chivalry.” (Source: Radiant Sword Hunter Badge)

Ludwig’s moral corruption is not, as I said, linear and straight forward, but messy. Just as Jekyll struggles to keep control of Hyde, so too does the Holy Blade fight with the Accursed. They are two distinctively different enemies; and both fight in much different ways. But just like Jekyll, I believe Ludwig’s connection to the cosmos and to “what lies behind the curtain of nature” is what truly corrupted him; beyond just being dragged as a blood-drunk hunter.

It is theorised that Ludwig found the Holy Moonlight Sword while prospecting through the Chalice Dungeons, and it is that which brings him back to lucidity after losing himself. Ludwig has a close connection to the Healing Church’s desires to see the cosmos, and likely worked very closely with the higher echelons. He quite literally is the manifestation of both beast and kin — with one of his heads being a bestial horse-like countenance, while upon his shoulder sits a gaping mouth full of eyes that spits out a kind of arcane-esque goop. It is likely he, along with the more empirical side of the Church, was just as enamoured by the attainment of knowledge and sought great ascension as a result (which, unfortunately, had him descend to the very pits of a nightmare instead).

“With every day, and from both sides of my intelligence, the moral and the intellectual, I thus drew steadily nearer to the truth, by whose partial discovery I have been doomed to such a dreadful shipwreck: that man is not truly one, but truly two.” (Source: Dr. Jekyll & Mr Hyde).

This empiricism verses practicality in terms of research and his actual role as a leader of a band of hunters is manifested in his nightmarish deformity. Just how the punishment of the Hunter’s Nightmare fits the crime of the hunter (to kill vacuous beasts is to become a vacuous beast), Ludwig’s life is made mockery in this state. But this perfectly mimics that trend of empirically minded Gothicism that mixed metaphysics and sociological speculation with the preternatural. From Dr. Frankenstein to Dorian Gray, The Ancient Mariner to Dr. Jekyll — to look behind the curtain of nature, to attempt to gain knowledge not meant for your mortal mind, is to curse yourself to an eternal punishment. Ludwig is a Gothic Hero, he is Dr. Jekyll, Dorian Gray, Dr. Frankenstein, and the Ancient Mariner. Guided by moonlight, another traditionally gothic trope found often in works that explore the sublime (like Frankenstein, for example), he sought knowledge and did gain eyes upon the inside, but at the cost of his sanity and his honour.

In the end, he is guided once more by his most coveted moonlight, but is far from the warrior he once was. Ludwig’s tale is tragic and steeped in tropes from this wonderful era of literature. Ludwig is a special case even for Bloodborne as well, for if we take Vicar Amelia as our baseline for the behaviour of the beast scourge, he does not descend further into vacuity as she nor any other beast, but actually transforms his mind back from beastliness. Once more, his transformation is not so linear, only the dark cosmos consumes him.

Only an honest death can free him now.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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This is the most un-Fromsoftware Fromsoftware story ever.

Let me explain.

Fromsoft is famous, or perhaps infamous in some cases, for their subtlety in their narration and storytelling. It is a distinctive voice quite individual to From’s games, and have at least set the precedent for the genre. It is an aspect that makes Souls games Souls games, and many have attempted to replicate it. To tell a story in this way is individual to video games and cannot very easily be replicated in other media as it puts a lot of faith in the player themselves. In a way, it relies on the player to determine the lore and story through these subtle clues; through the environment, item descriptions and dialogue. This is why everything in Souls games are so purposeful, because every single aspect cannot be arbitrary in order to guide the player in a certain direction. It is reminiscent of some author’s writing styles, and is the video game equivalent of “show don’t tell”. It also allows for a great pool of interpretations to fester beneath the overt story and “canon”. It encourages interpretation and, of course with nuance in mind, any interpretation is as valid as any other.

It is distinctive… but in the titular Nightreign did they seem to diverge from this narrative style and use a far less covert tactic. Of course, the tale of Limveld is still not obvious and it takes a bit of contextual detective work… or to watch a Vaati Vidya video… to understand just what is happening in this mirrored vision of the Lands Between. But this is not what I want to focus on here. What unnerved me, and what I never would have expected from a Fromsoft title, is the story of the Revenant.

As a Revenant main, I feel it’s my duty to cover this tale. It is so visceral, so un-Fromsoftware, that it caught me off guard so much during my first playthrough. I am sure many of you felt the same, so let’s begin at the start of her Remembrance.

We are made to believe that this strange child is, indeed, a doll who has been possessed by the murdered daughter of a prestigious family of puppeteers and makers; House Northerncroft. Fromsoftware have not been known to avoid the gothic in their stories, Bloodborne of course… existing… but it is interesting to see just how deep this concept seems to stem from Gothicism as a literary genre. Now, I will preface by saying “The Gothic” does not necessarily mean exclusively remote castles, ghosts, haunted cathedrals and all things preternatural. It is an incredibly broad genre that goes beyond aesthetic alone, but is an amalgamation of tropes that all pertain to the darkest sides of society. That is why we can have urban gothic, like Jekyll & Hyde, and rural gothic, like Jane Eyre. That is also why we can get gothic works that are not necessarily “scary” to so speak, but just… unnerving, disturbing, or merely highlighting disagreeable concepts (an example being a book I finished reading recently, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë, which taps into ideas of domestic abuse, alcoholism and addiction in such a viscerally disturbing way).

Another trope that is often explored in Gothicism is infanticide and filicide — the murder of an infant, or a child. This bloodthirsty trope, attached to a supernatural premise, especially with something like a doll, pays homage to both the gothic and classic horror as a whole (such as Annabelle). But we are not frightened of the Revenant (which literally means a reanimated ghost or corpse), but pity her. She seems lost, weak, protected by her loyal staff and all things we find make us think that she, believing her name to be Daphne, is the spirit of a murdered girl. Her character description even reads:

“Doll of the daughter of an aristocratic family that faced ruin. On a fateful night, her soul took possession of the doll’s body, and she swore to avenge her disgraced lineage.”

But I think this is more of a red herring than anything, and another reason why I believe From’s games to be inspired by books in more ways than just their narratives — in the very way they present their stories is adjacent to a book. It is up to the player’s discretion to believe this description. A lot of From’s item descriptions have a strange kind of omnipotent narrator that feels less like a developer explaining the lore and use of an item, and more like an in-game person writing this description. A little bit of a tangent, but an example of this is in the Shadow of the Erdtree DLC. When one looks at the Pelt of Ralva item, it says

“The pelt of Ralva the Great Red Bear, worn upon the head without modification. Enhances incantations of what is jokingly called “Bear Communion.”

Or Gaius’ Greaves item

“Black iron greaves made for Commander Gaius. A cruel joke, for he could not wear them.”

I don’t know if anyone else can see it, but it’s just something I have noticed throughout my many years playing these games. A kind of light-hearted narrator, not just a monotone purveyor of lore and explanation. As a lore fanatic, of course I like to think of everything as being in-game and beyond the fundamental fact that it was, indeed, of course a developer writing this. Okay, forgive this little rant, as I’m writing this it is currently 31 degrees outside so maybe my brain’s a little frazzled… anyway, where were we?

The Revenant herself is the epitome of innocence. I have mentioned before the symbol of white in From games; most aptly in relation to Kos, who is a graceful, white mother and emphasises the injustice of her defilement with the gentle purity she represents. Revenant is no different, and perhaps is an even greater example of this. She is clad in a white, jewelled gown accented with a crown of blue flowers that halo a veil. It is almost a wedding dress, or perhaps a little girl dressing up her doll as a bride. Its purity is tarnished however as the white has faded to a slightly dull grey, and the body beneath is marred and cracked. Revenant yearns to know the truth, to gain back her memories, and so she requests the help of the Recluse.

It is surreal walking through the Northerncroft Manor the first time round. Just like with the Executor, this remembrance is uncannily metaphoric. We must defeat some enemies named The Corrosion, that which represents the Night, and upon the far end of the room will sit the still doll. Interact, and it will say:

“An ordinary doll, carved with inexpert letters that read: My Darling Little Daphne”

So she was wrong. She is not the soul of the dead daughter, but the doll itself.

It is interesting also to note here the way she leans against the Recluse whenever she awakens from her dream. I believe it puts the Recluse in a motherly light; which is apt also to her own remembrance quest.

We return for a second and final time into this hazy memory of the Northerncroft manor but this time must defeat a raging Royal Revenant; chaos manifest, a corruption. This fight is not so simple, but Daphne once more prevails and a cutscene is triggered. This is what I mean when I say that Nightreign, but this quest most ardently, is the most un-Fromsoftware Fromsoftware title (or, more accurately, the most un-Souls Souls title). I mean this from a narrative perspective, if that wasn’t obvious.

This cutscene shaves no corners, hides nothing, yet is still somehow quite hidden in its meaning. Players have come out of this cutscene still believing that the Revenant is the ghost of Chloe Northerncroft, but that is not the case. At least, it is not so simple. This scene had me stare in utter awe and shock when I first experienced it. It is visceral and unapologetically in your face. It is bleak and horrifying, showing and certainly not telling. We watch as a member of the house murders a woman — seemingly another member — by clubbing her, brutally, until all that remains is a final desperate gargle of a life; fading.

The atmosphere builds, and contextual clues from the rain wuthering without show that it is the influence of the Night that causes this homicidal mania to manifest. Chloe, the poor child we already know the fate of, hides but reveals herself in her fright. I wonder if I wasn’t the only one who had a slight inkling of hope that she might escape her relative’s wrath. This shot has unnerved me more than most horror games. It is just so unexpected, and such a tasteful jumpscare that actually startled me. This is the epitome of gothicism; that despite every inclination of the supernatural and otherworldly, it was the acts of our fellow man that stands as the catalyst for horror.

Chloe’s death awakens the Revenant, but this is not necessarily “Chloe” as we know her. Her ghost is not possessing this doll, but the spirit of vengeance itself. This is a fantastic example of From’s ability to write something a little less comprehensible, tapping into some less concrete ideas, and more abstract concepts. That the essence of vengeance itself was kind of harvested from Chloe’s injudiciously murdered frame, and placed in something that meant so much to her. That is why, I believe, the Revenant reveals a skull beneath her porcelain countenance. She is inhuman, but she is not a corpse. I argue that this could be backed up by the Watchful Spirit spell one can find in Shadow of the Erdtree.

“Take vengeance upon Messmer and his lot. They who betrayed us, aye, they who burned us... Let them face in thy wrath their just deserts.”

Just as the Hornsent were injudiciously massacred, so too was this innocent girl, and they, too, manifest in the form of a skull. Finally, the Rancourcall spell from the base game holds a similar description

“Summons vengeful spirits that chase down foes.”

To embody vengeance as a skull is an interesting concept and one I further connect to the gothic and supernatural themes herewith. Often in literature and mythology have vengeful spirits beyond the grave been ghosts, ghouls, vampires and the undead as a whole. So, this is a clear nod to those tropes, along with, as I mentioned, the trope of the possessed doll as is. It also helps this story maintain a Fromsoft-ian kind of symbolism and vagueness, while also doing something new and quite brave for this dev team. Actually showing the event that unfolded in the past; actually giving us something to see without needing to use our imaginations.

That is what is so un-Fromsoftware about this narrative. It’s clarity and lack of subtlety. But it works tremendously for this game. Nightreign, though from a side team I think, is their first step into a unique format in a long, long time, and I personally think they knocked it out of the park; both via gameplay and narrative. With such a small cast of playable characters, they could do something unique with their characterisation different to the NPCs we find in the other games. The closest that comes to this is Sekiro where we don’t make a wordless, blank Tarnished or Hunter or Chosen Undead, but control someone with far more to them in a way. There is something to be said about this; the difference in gameplay and narrative when our character is a nameless Ashen One, or a pre-existing Wolf. It allows From to work in different ways, both with their benefits and vices.

The Revenant, I think, proves that pre-existing characters is where From can shine honestly. Their ability to write stories and personalities around the worlds is so fascinating to me as a writer myself. To make each one individual, believable, and not just a carbon copy of one another, or entirely without purpose or personality, is impressive. This is a reason why I am very excited for the Duskbloods (despite my inability to play it, damn you Nintendo…).

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

If you wish to donate some echoes, do consider doing so here, or subscribing!

❛ buy me a coffee ❜

Subscribe now

Otherwise, may you find your worth in the waking world <3

❛ House of Hare fiction editor ❜

“Through me you go to the grief-wracked city, Through me to everlasting pain you go. Through me you go and pass among lost souls, Justice inspired my exalted Creator. I am a creature of the Holiest Power, of Wisdom in the Highest and of Primal Love, Nothing till I was made was made only, eternal beings. And I endure eternally. Surrender as you enter every hope you have.” (CANTO III, Inferno)

No place has been so deeply speculated and built upon in both mythology and theism as Hell. The existence of a place of eternal punishment has long been used as a societal deterrent for unsociable and dangerous behaviour. From the ancient world to the modern day, Hell is a colloquial term, and a concept known across cultures. When the existence of a God was not so questioned, and when divine experiences could not be put down to some empirical explanation, Hell was a genuine fear of the layman.

“In the sixth century, Pope Gregory the Great answered questions about the fate of the souls of ordinary Christians posed to him by a young disciple named Peter. […] Gregory told three anecdotes he had heard from reliable witnesses about individuals on the brink of death who had been given a glimpse of Hell before returning to their bodies.” (Scott G. Bruce, The Penguin Book of Hell, 61).

Of course, I will not be diving into what is real and what isn’t when it comes to these sources and the extracts I will be using. The point here isn’t to have a theological discussion on the existence of a God or Hell itself, but only to compare the Nightmares realms of Bloodborne to these different depictions of hell across western mythology and religion. For the record, I am an atheist, but I do find discussions involving religion and mythology ever so interesting.

Hell was used as a warning, a threat, especially during the Dark Ages. In the Ancient world, Hell was a far more accessible location that was feared, but something used as a place to be conquered. Both Orpheus and Aeneas descended into the depths and made it out alive.

In Bloodborne, the Nightmare Realms sit as three locations with a notable verticality. This is something I want to delve into in more detail, but I will say that this verticality is far more important than one would initially think. From the Hunter’s Nightmare all the way up to the Nightmare of Mensis and Mergo’s Loft. I am going to analyse this verticality and its importance as a comparison to Dante’s Divine Comedy, as well as comparing different depictions of hell throughout history and literature with the nature of these Nightmares.

In short, I am going to make the argument that the Nightmare realms are depictions of hell but with a Bloodbornian twist on the reason for their existences. For my research, I have used The Penguin Book of Hell, a comprehensive collection of different western depictions of Hell throughout history, as well as Dante’s Divine Comedy — namely, of course, Inferno.

Now, enough preamble, I do hope you enjoy.

PART THE FIRST: Verticality

“I turned, my head tight-bound in confusion, to say to my master: ‘What is it that I hear? Who can these be, so overwhelmed by pain?’ ’This baleful condition is one,’ he said, ’that grips those souls whose lives, contemptibly, were void alike of honour and ill fame. These all co-mingle with a noisome choir of angels who — not rebels, yet not true to God — existed for themselves alone.’” (Inferno, Canto III)

If one meanders to the very edge of the Nightmare Frontier and gazes downward, hellward, betwixt the mist and fog, one will see grasping masts of long-stagnant ships. They claw upward, ominously still yet begging for your attention. ‘Look thus, good hunter!’ They cry, ‘Look upon us, ensnared in a Nightmare! We yearn for the ebb-tide that never seems to wane… ever stagnant, ever rotting beneath the poor mother’s curse…’

These masts are that which is found in the Fishing Hamlet; on the coast, looking out at the nightmarish sun that watches from above. This is blatant proof of a verticality when it comes to the nightmare realms. Furthermore, another prominent piece of evidence, is the snail woman who falls from the sky before the Whirligig item in the Hunter’s Nightmare area. So, as we can tell from that, the Fishing Hamlet sits between the Nightmare Frontier and the lower Hunter’s Nightmare. I argue then that the Nightmare of Mensis is above the Frontier since you can see it from those pale shores. Finally, and this is far more speculative than the rest of this supposition, I believe that the Hunter’s Dream is the very lowest level beneath all of this.

I will go into the evidence I have for such a theory in the third chapter, but if we use this as the basis for the Nightmare’s verticality, we can see how interconnected it all really is. Furthermore, we can see just how much emphasis is placed on ascension, especially in the Old Hunter’s DLC.

I believe I have talked about this in other videos, but ascension is so very important when we talk about the anatomy of the Hunter’s Nightmare and the DLC as a whole. From the very start of the DLC, entering the Nightmarish version of Yharnam, we are constantly ascending. It becomes most obvious when we reach the Research Hall. The way the building acts as a giant lift, going up and up, eventually crescendoing in the Lumenflower Garden, which thus begins the disorientation and uncanny nature to it. We are at the very top of the Astral Clocktower, yet when we enter Maria’s boss arena and look down, we see nothing but a white abyss below. This is our first taste of the overt unusual. A strange misalignment in the cosmos, a disruption of reality. I do not think this white void below is an accident, but a clue as to the unreality of things. This is not the real Research Hall, we are not currently standing in an earthly place, but something borne of the Old Hunter’s greed for knowledge.

Once Maria has been defeated, we can move through the clock face threshold and transition to the Fishing Hamlet. This transition is incredibly emphatic and important. It feels as though we cross into another realm, another place, unlike that which we just scaled. The Fishing Hamlet sits incomprehensibly upon the Hunter’s Nightmare, and if we turn around we can see the Astral Clocktower buried beneath the ground. Now to understand this as much as possible, one must rid themselves of literalism and dive into a figurative metaphorical mindset. The Clocktower here I interpret as the very edifice of the Healing Church, buried and suspended in the curse of their greed. Stuck in the mud, entombed in the wrath of Mother Kos.

With this verticality and ascension being so important, our trek through the DLC feels arduous and, quite literally, an uphill battle. This, in my eyes, is reminiscent of the many descents then ascents into and from Hell that is depicted throughout western religious scripture and sermons. From Dante to St. Frances, angels and devils alike have taken many into the depths of hell as a warning. This can be interpreted in the nightmare’s verticality, but also in the way we as the Hunter interact with it. Those beckoned by the nightmare are hunters drunk on blood, “a fate no hunter can escape.” (eye of a blood drunk hunter). But not us, nor Simon the Harrowed who has the same goal as we — to find the secret of the nightmare. We traverse as an outsider, watching on and journeying though this hell while outwardly watching the suffering and punishment of the beasts and hunters alike. In truth, we do not belong here, and once more fit with the trope of the narrator for pieces of literature depicting hell.

In terms of verticality, it is also interesting to analyse that which I mentioned previously about the other layers beyond the DLC alone. The fact the frontier and Mensis sits above the Fishing Hamlet makes me think that the Hamlet’s nightmare came to be long after the existence of the Frontier. I will dive into this during the third chapter, but there is a theory that the Frontier itself is actually Loran — or, a nightmarish version of Loran. In a similar vein to the Fishing Hamlet coming into being due to the sins of the Healing Church against the Great Ones, so too does Loran — the nightmare, that is — exist because of the manic sins of the Loranites. But once again, I will go deeper into this concept in the third chapter!

I believe the existence of Mensis above the Frontier, and thus the highest level in this vertical structure, is of special note here. Mensis is a man-made nightmare, made purposeful, and in reality I do not think it is “created” necessarily by the Mensis scholars, but simply brought into being within a pre-existing Nightmare realm. The way the Frontier seems to be decaying, as if nightmarish architecture is slowly devouring what once was there, makes me believe that the Frontier existed long before Mensis and the Hunter’s Nightmare. Of course, this also is backed up by the aforementioned Loran theory. I believe, in the same way the Hunter’s Nightmare is a mirror of Yharnam, that the Nightmare of Mensis is a mirror of the real Mensis. It is also important to explain that “school” does not necessarily mean a real, physical “school” building like Byrgenwerth, but more of a shared state of thinking.

It being above the Frontier makes me wonder that the concept of the gods being above us is also true in Bloodborne. Not necessarily for the existence of a heaven, but of a cosmos far above the sky. Mensis was the faction that, quite ironically, were the ones most successful in the communion with the gods, after all. That is why Mergo’s essence, his Wet Nurse, and Queen Yharnam can all be found at the very top of the building. The moon there, too, is not nightmarish but an ordinary moon; and large, close, and divine.

The higher one goes, the closer to the Great Ones one is, the more insight one acquires and requires. It is said, after all, that:

“Madmen toil surreptitiously in rituals to beckon the moon. Uncover their secrets.” (Note found in Yahar’gul The Unseen Village).

PART THE SECOND: The Frontier/Mensis

As I explained in the first chapter on verticality, The Nightmare Frontier and Mensis are the two highest nightmares above the rest. Going from the descension of the dream to the great heights of these, I want to delve a little deeper into the concept that the Nightmare Frontier is actually a nightmarish depiction of Loran, in a similar vein to the Hunter’s Nightmare and Fishing Hamlet as nightmarish depictions of those.

For those unaware, Loran is an ancient land that existed long, long before Yharnam, back in the age of the Pthumerians and Loranites, the latter of who were elevated by the Great Ones to worship them and act as surrogates for their children in exchange for great knowledge. As the Ailing Loran Chalice item states:

“*Loran is a tragic land that was devoured by the sands. The tragedy that struck this ailing land of Loran is said to have its root in the scourge of the Beast. Some have made the dreaded extrapolation that Yharnam will be next.” (*Ailing Loran Chalice)

I will link below a Reddit post that goes into much further depth about this, but the tragedy of Loran is built upon hubris, sickness, and desperation. The land was ravaged by Ashen Blood, a sickness also found in Old Yharnam, and in desperation for a cure did they vacuously kill their Great Ones; an unforgivable blasphemy that cursed them to beasthood and endless sands. Ailing Loran became the title of this plagued place, and Loran Silverbeasts became their residents. Where else can one find these beasts? Yes, the Frontier and Mensis — the two being incredibly connected, and I believe cut content had it that Mensis could be accessed from the Frontier. Alas, both are able to be entered from the elusive Lecture Hall. To further emphasise this theory, a note is found in the Lecture Hall that states:

“Hunt the Great Ones, Hunt the Great Ones” (Note found in 2F Lecture Hall)

While other civilisations worshipped the Great Ones, such as Pthumerians and Yharnamites as is, this was the philosophy of the citizens of Loran; to hunt and kill the Great Ones in order to use their blood to heal. Furthermore, the School of Mensis scholars had a connection to Loran in one way or another. It was after the discovery of Loran that the Mensis scholars began to use far more dubious methods of communion. Furthermore, Archibald, a member of the School and the creator of the Tonitrus, was enamoured by Darkbeasts (who are associated with Loran’s endless storm), so it would not be too far of a stretch to connect Loran to the Nightmare of Mensis. Furthermore, and the most concrete bit of evidence I have, is the fact that you attain the Ailing Loran chalice from defeating the Amygdala at the end of the area.

In classic depictions of hell, there is often an emphasis on darkness.

“The watchman did not say that nights are coming, but only the night. He said so, because in Hell there is only one night, one eternal night, one everlasting night.” (Darkness, The Sight of Hell by John Furniss, 1809-65).

[…] “but deprived of light; yet so that the eyes shall suffer with the sight of most horrible appearances, and yet be debarred of the comfort which in the midst of all their terror, the lightnings themselves might cause in the frightfulest tempest”. (II. Its Darkness, Hell Opened To Christians to Caution Them from Entering into It by Giovanni Pietro Pinamonti, 1632-1703).

Mensis aligns with this depiction for it sits, outside of Yharnam’s moon cycles, in the darkest of nights that is eternal. Furthermore, what lies beneath Mensis is a great, incomprehensibly dark expanse that made me wonder if my game had glitched the first time I descended. This is not merely the limitations of a video game to translate this endless dark, but an utter void. The Nightmare Frontier, however, does not fit this description. But, it does align fantastically with the second quote’s reference to lightning. This is a common reference across depictions, symbolising God’s judgement and wrath. If we use this as reference for Loran, the chalice’s very air is electrified in a kind of sand storm; and so are the silverbeasts that roam the Frontier and Mensis alike (also the rock trolls). I like to interpret this as the wrath of the Great Ones who punished this civilisation for their blasphemy against them. They were directly touched by divine punishment.

Returning a moment to the interpretation that the Nightmare Frontier is a nightmarish version of Loran, there is a very prominent presence of Lake runes within the chalice. Great Lakes almost exclusively are found within the sand-ridden chambers. The implication here is that some prominent body of water was dried up with the rest of the city — perhaps even buried under the sand. Alas, where else can one find a Great Lake rune? Hidden within a nightmarish cave riddled in slimy, sea-creature-like beasts and, of course, a Winter Lantern. That is not all, however, for if we run with the theory that Loran once hosted a great lake, the Frontier itself too has one.

This, I argue, is the River Styx.

“The water was far darker than indigo; And in the company of the murky waves, We travelled downward by a winding path. Into a marsh, which is called the Styx, This sad brook makes its way down To the foot of those malign, grey shores. […] Trapped in the mire, they croak, ‘Sullen we were In the sweet air, which the sun gladdens, Bearing within ourselves mournful fumes; Now we are gloomy in this black ooze.’” (Canto VII)

The river than runs through the Nightmare Frontier is stagnant and mirelike, a fen long rotten yet still hosting one sustainable life form within its shallow depths. It is notably… icky… not only poisoning us as we wade through, but the crawlers also inflict rapid poison. This is a one-to-one reference to the River Styx which sits within the fifth circle of hell which punishes the Wrathful. Now this is the connection I believe really is the nail in the coffin for the Frontier and Loran theory — the fifth circle of hell, that which holds the River Styx, punishes, as I said, the Wrathful. Those who used violence for their own benefit, not unlike the wrathful Loranites who used violence to hunt and kill Great Ones for their own benefit. These Silverbeasts that stalk the Frontier are manic and violent, beginning to run on all fours in some grotesque stature when hurt enough. The Nightmare Frontier is the fifth circle of hell.

But not only that, sticking with the Styx interpretation, if one looks closely at the Crawlers, as the Wiki enlightened me, one will see a malformation of messengers. The Doll explains that messengers are servants to the hunters,

“They find hunters like yourself, worship, and serve them. Speak words, they do not, but still, aren’t they sweet?” (the Doll)

What’s notable here is the way they act. When idly circling lanterns, messengers mournfully pray and seem to be weeping. In fact, when one enters the Dream, one will be able to hear the weeping messengers in the ambience. They are sullen, wouldn’t you say? In the fifth circle of hell, the Sullen are punished by eternally drowning in the Styx. So too do the Crawlers. It is not only the Church that are being punished in this hell. Perhaps it is that these distorted versions of kind beings (the Winter Lanterns being corrupted versions of The Doll) are there to torture us. Hell is often, especially in older scripture, depicted as a place of physical suffering. But in the later interpretations did it start to shift to a more psychological torment (breathes in):

“And with all that shame, anguish, horror, inconceivable and endless Misery, which they shall thereby have brought upon their own Heads. And, as we are sure, from the nature of the thing itself, that, when the wicked shall no longer be cloth’d with such bodies of flesh, as they are now, which mightiful obstruct and press down the Soul in her operations, but shall put on spiritual bodies, bodies in which their Souls may freely and uncontrollably exert their utmost powers, their apprehensions, and resentments of things most necessarily become vastly more quick and vigorous, and consequently their sense of their own folly, guilt, and misery, and their remorse, anguish, and trouble for them, exceedingly more keen and poignant than they had ever been in this World.” (William Dawes, 1617-1724, Sermon on Hell Torments).

Now, my penultimate point here before we move onto the Hunter’s Nightmare is the presence of parasitic worms that erupt from the Mensis Silverbeasts.

“[…] and worms poured out of his mouth and nostrils, and he was moaning and lamenting. […] And I saw another multitude of pits in the same place and in their midst a river filled with a crowd of men and women, and worms were devouring them.” (The Apocalypse of Paul).

“The worm that dies not. He will give fire and worms into their flesh that they may burn and feel forever.” (Isaiah 66:24)

“St. Basil says that in hell there will be worms without number eating the flesh and their bites will be unbearable. St. Teresa says that she found the entrance into Hell filled with these venomous insects. […] How will you feel in Hell, when millions of them make their dwelling-place in your mouth and ears and eyes?” (The Sight of Hell, John Furniss)

From ancient scripture to a 19th century warning for children, worms have a heavy presence in depictions of Hell, as commonly mentioned as fire, even. In some, they are more described as “wyrms”, or, dragons, but most descriptions attempt to convey every aspect that would make one uncomfortable beyond just pain. The worms that come from the Silverbeasts are parasitic, named Parasitic Larvae implying they will eventually metamorphosis into something else. But that’s neither here nor there, and just another aspect that brings the Nightmare Frontier into a disturbing rendition of Hell.

Finally, my last point here is a bit more of a stretch honestly, and I can understand if some of you hear this and raise an eyebrow, but I thought it was worth mentioning anyway as a really loose interpretation. In the Seventh Circle of Hell sits the Wood of the Suicides, where those who took their own lives will be hunted by dogs and turned into trees. I know that the Doll is not actually Lady Maria, but a facsimile of her, but the story goes that, rapt with guilt over Kos’ defilement, Maria slit her own throat. Now my point here is that the Winter Lanterns do not look so different from a tree, what with their bodies as trunks and large brains as the branches and leaves. Of course, this is quite a loose connection and just something I thought I’d mention anyway.

PART THE THIRD: The Dream

*“Standing before me, he made me stop, Saying, ‘Behold Dis, and behold the place Where you must arm yourself with fortitude.’ How frozen I become at that moment and powerless, —Reader, do not ask, for I cannot write it, Because all language would be insufficient—

I did not die, and yet I did not remain alive; Just think for a moment, if you have any sense, What I become, deprived of life and death. The emperor of this kingdom of gloom Came up out of the ice at the mid-point of his chest; And I compare better with a giant.”* (Inferno, Canto 34)

There sits at the deepest part of Hell a great lake of ice; the Cocytus. Within, ensnared at waist heights, suffers the impossibly large fallen angel Satan. Here he chews and chews upon the souls of the three most dire traitors in human history. Judas, who betrayed Jesus; and Brutus and Cassius who assassinated Julius Caesar.

“In each of his mouths, his teeth were chewing A sinner, like flax pulled through a heckling comb, He tormented three of them in this way.” (Inferno, Canto 34)

But unlike that which is depicted in the Bible, the devil here is not some malicious entity sworn by the misery of humankind, but a soul suffering just the same as those mortals cast down. He, too, is being eternally punished. He sits at the lowest level of Hell, thus that which holds the more dire sins, in most depictions throughout western history. Trapped to endure eternity this way… not unlike Gehrman.

This comment on Reddit sums up my point here fantastically, but I will go deeper into this as I believe, if we do interpret the dreaming world (and thus, Nightmares) as layers in Hell, the Dream would sit quite aptly at the very bottom. Not only can we not see anything beneath us, nor can we above us but the gentle gaze of the moon. Furthermore, as this commenter stated, it is how you leave to the Waking World should you choose the morning ending.

In order for Dante to escape Hell, he had to descend. This is an excellent bit of disorientation that maintains the concept that Dante descends into something otherworldly and incomprehensible; somewhere he did not belong.

*“It was not a palace corridor There where we stood, but a natural cave, With an uneven floor and scarcely any light. . . My guide and I now entered that hidden road, To return once more to the shining world; And without a care that we had no rest

We mounted up, he going first and I behind, Until through a round aperture I saw The beautiful things that the skies above us bear;

Now we came forth to look upon the stars.”* (Canto 34, Inferno)

This comment on the stars especially emphasises this illogicalness. From all this focus on descension, and suddenly we can see the stars, it is not unlike, in and antithetical manner, the ascent through the Hunter’s Nightmare to solid ground. But in the Dream, too, do we awaken above ground. Of course, this is due to our connection to the dream being physically severed by Gehrman, but the point still stands.

Furthermore, as stated, Gehrman is notably bound to a wheelchair. We do not see him move, and no doubt it is the Doll who pushes him to and fro. He is bound here in more ways than one; spiritually, his soul being chained to the Dream as a punishment for his involvement in the defilement of Kos, which is then manifested in this wheelchair. Gehrman was once a proud, capable Hunter — the first, who set a precedent for all others to come, and who was a mentor for such warriors as Lady Maria. His fate, being bound helplessly to a wheelchair, regarded as nothing but an elderly man past his prime, is a cruel revelation and a punishment in and of itself. The only time he can be the warrior he once was is by unwilling duty to Kos’ curse. Just like Maria, his duty is to maintain the curse that he himself brought up his kin. Only when hunters threaten the sanctity of his punishment will he be allowed to use his strength again. This is backed up by the fact that, if we defeat Gehrman and accept the Moon Presence, we will replace him; our soul, in turn, will be ensnared by the Dream and we will be placed in his wheelchair in turn. Ever to watch over the souls brought here, punished for their blood.

In a rather disturbing description by 19th century Catholic Priest John Furniss, who wanted to communicate to children the fear of Hell in a society leaning in to a far more secular state, he describes the Devil as “the great chained monster” and

“He was sitting on a long beam which passed through the middle of Hell. His feet went down into the lowest depths of Hell. They rested on the floor of Hell. They were fastened with great, heavy, iron chains. These chains were fixed to an immense ring in the floor. His hands were chained up to the roof.”

Just like the devil of Dante’s interpretation, this devil is also chained and ensnared as a result of his divine betrayal. In this same vein, I do want to make a video also talking about Paradise Lost to some degree, perhaps talking about something more Elden Ring related due to its fantastical elements. Alas, I think it is a solid idea of Gehrman’s existence as the devil. Thus… would that make the Moon Presence truly… God?

PART THE FOURTH: The Hunter’s Nightmare

“You will see the torment that fits your deeds, from which there is no escape, not even in death, but you will burn perpetually in agony, unable to die. You will see or find no consolation, no relief, and no light; you will have no hope or aid or mercy. For you have approached the gates of death and you will find yourself in the very depths of hell without delay.” (The Visio Tnugdali, 1149, anon).

I have gone into the ways in which the Hunter’s Nightmare acts as a vertical structure the hunter must ascend, the antithesis to the descension many who visit Hell in history had to endure, but there is more to connect the Nightmare to Hell than just this concept.

The Phlegethon, a vast river of boiling blood, sits in the seventh circle of Hell according to Dante’s Inferno. It’s existence is that to punish those murderers, tyrants and robbers by drowning them, endlessly, undying, within its depths.

”But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near The river of blood, within which boiling is Whoe’er by violence doth injure others.” (Canto 12, Inferno)

It is a visceral sight, and one not too unlike that which can be found in the lowers level of the Hunter’s Nightmare. Though not boiling, and more so a stream of blood that has begun to grow shallow, the Nightmare’s trajectory is shown by a river of blood that winds its way, serpentine, through the area. In fact, just by the the Blood Licker’s bloated state can we tell just how much blood festers in this place. A testament to the violence and madness that the Old Hunters, and hunters now drunk on blood, wield in their endless hunt.

The reason for the nightmare’s existence as a whole stems from the greed, wrath, and defilement of the Fishing Hamlet massacre. The Old Hunters are murderers, of course they would be sent to the depths of a nightmare strewn in a lake of blood. It is a testament to their sins, an endless reminder of what they are. Beasts, savages, strewn in blood and viscera.

There is an irony here too that beasts and creatures are described in a multitude of depictions as being very present in Hell, beyond just the demons there to torture you.

In fact, in the afore-cited The Visio Tnugdali (or, The Vision of Tundale), there is a dreadful scene described wherein the damned are, regardless of their sex, forced to give birth to serpents that then feast on them. It is a vile image, and one I cannot actually believe exists in such an old text as this (though I suppose it would act as a deterrent to sin if you believe in Hell).

“All of the souls that descended into the swamp, men as well as women, were pregnant, and burdened in this way they awaited the time when they would give birth. The offspring that they had conceived stung their entrails like vipers, […] When the time came to deliver, they screamed, filling the depths with their cries as they gave birth to serpents. […] through their chests, and the serpents came bursting out through all of their limbs.” (The Visio Tnugdali, anon, 1149)

It is hard not to compare this to Ridley Scott’s alien — and the comparison of this and Bloodborne is another video I would love to make. But this also cannot be mistaken to be similar to Bloodborne’s own relationship with pregnancy; however more… visceral.

Alas, I digress. Beasts of all vile description writhe and churn in all depiction of Hell. Just after the latter quote, it is described that:

“[…] the growling of the emerging beasts reached to the heavens, so much so that the demons, if there were any spark of pity in them, might be rightly moved to feel mercy born of sympathy. For upon all of their limbs and fingers you could see the heads of many beasts that gnawed them down to the very nerves and bones.”

This endless hunt that blood-drunk hunters must endure is not so merry as the endless battle of Valhalla, but a tiresome feat brought on by a blood lust that only exists because of the allure of the Old Blood and the will of a sadistic mind; warranted or not. We are told it is a fate no hunter can escape, and in the end in this deathless place do the beasts torture the hunters as much as the other way around. I compare this quote with the Hunter’s Nightmare as a kind of metaphor for the parasitic way the beasts are hunted, revived, then hunted again both in the nightmare and the waking world. You hear the growls and cries of the Old Hunters as they tear through the Nightmare for the Nth time, and you cannot help but feel sympathy for those lost to vacuity.

I want to make one final brief point on this subject before we wrap up, and this is that if the Frontier and Mensis act as the Fifth circle of Hell, the Nightmare Yharnam as the Seventh, what sits between the two is the Fishing Hamlet; the sixth circle. That which houses heretics and the blasphemous. The sixth circle of hell is a land of burning crypts that the sinners are locked within, the intensity of the heat depending on the intensity of their sin. Of course, the Sixth circle being for heretics is perfectly apt for the Old Hunters who defiled Kos, but I want to focus on this idea of intensity. Throughout Dante’s Inferno, and other hellish texts, the intensity of one’s punishment is determined by the severity of their sin. Of course, this is entirely without nuance and forgets the subjectivity of it, relying wholly on Dante’s own determinate of morality, but I like this idea in terms of the Old Hunter’s Expansion. As I said, you are constantly ascending, and in every area do you find different NPC hunters trapped here, unlike the mad Old Hunter enemies, just like you. I wonder if the location of these hunters, and the layer they reside, is a testament to their waking worldly sin?

Did Djura’s Disciple, found in the cave beside the Blood-Starved Beast, devolve into a madness befitting an endless darkness? Perhaps a fear of light? His parameters are the cave after all, and it will be with great difficulty one can attempt to bring him out. Old Yharnam was burned to cinders, after all… a fear of light would make sense.

Brador is a murderer who belongs caged in a prison, awaiting his own untimely death.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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At the very peak of Gothic literature in the mid-19th century, it had begun to move away from the sensationalist trends that were popularised by Ann Radcliffe, Charlotte Dacre, Horace Walpole, etc. and moved closer to a genre befitting all manner of societal critique. The Gothic allowed writers to reject modern expectation of literature, especially written by women, and use taboo themes to talk about taboo subjects. Sexual assault, murder, infanticide, trauma, suicide along with so many other “sensitive” topics could be explored in this medium. It gave writers freedom, using ghosts and the supernatural to manifest these concepts in a less “overt” manner. Women, especially, found freedom in this expression. Where they were expected to write flowery novels of romance and submission, many chose instead to write about the bleaker of their experiences.

What comes to mind are the Brontë sisters. Three writer sisters of a family of eight, they all three of them found success, but only initially due to their choice of publishing under vague male pseudonyms; Action, Ellis and Currer Bell. Of course, it was talk of the town when it was eventually revealed that these three brothers were, in fact, three sisters. But it was only the death of Emily and Ann that became the catalyst for Charlotte to reveal the truth of their identities. Their lives were shrouded in death, as Charlotte wrote in her diary after the death of her two kindred spirits:

In the end, Patrick Brontë, the loving father of six children, outlived them all. When one visits their home in Haworth, Yorkshire, one can feel the utter tragedy that seeps from the walls. The sisters grew up on the Yorkshire Moors; a cold, hard place and were not particularly wealthy. They all suffered, and that shows in their writing.

But what I want to explore in this video is that trope found throughout Gothic novels, focusing on Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, of the “fallen woman”, and how Lady Maria encompasses this with a Bloodbornian twist.

For further reading regarding this trope, here is a list of all of the books I’ve personally read that makes use of this. Do let me know if you’ve got any other examples below!

• Woman in White

• Jane Eyre

• Wuthering Heights

• Rebecca

• Macbeth

• Carmilla

• We Have Always Lived In The Castle

• Tess of the d’Urbervilles

• Lady Audley’s Secret

• Dracula

• The Silent Companions

• The Monk

• Phantom of the Opera

Chapter I: The Madwoman In The Attic

Charlotte Brontë published Jane Eyre on the 19th of October, 1847 to a divided reception. It was a bestseller, but was slated by critics who believed it to be an abject tale of rebellion and inappropriate theming. The public believed it to have been written by a man, thus likely a lot of the judgement was purely from the content of the book and not the author.

The story follows the orphaned Jane as she endures quite the quintessential horrors of a less fortunate young woman in rural England. With themes of piety, equality and social class, it is a timeless classic that takes shots at society’s expectation of women and their experiences with love. Jane, after leaving the boarding school Lowood, takes a governess job at Thornfield Hall, a very typical trajectory for women of that era. It is here that she meets Mr Rochester, a lonely bachelor enduring rumour and gossip at the mysterious death of his wife. For those days, it was a rather scandalous tale, but a great example of the Brontë’s lack of censorship when it came to damning matters.

The mystery of Rochester’s wife ascends throughout the narrative, until finally climaxing with the reveal that the ghostly woman who haunts the halls of Thornfield is actually his mentally ill spouse. He had locked her in an attic, reduced her to a ghastly woman, due to this violent mental condition that made her a danger to herself and others. Instead of handing her over to the proper authorities, he keeps her prisoner and his dire secret. It is Bertha Mason who epitomises this “fallen woman” trope.

Charlotte Brontë does not pull her punches in the allegory and symbolism of this vision. It is theorised that Bertha’s madness manifested as a result of gendered oppression and colonialism. Just like Heathcliffe in Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, Bertha’s race is ambiguous but pointedly she is described as being “Creole”, thus of Jamaican heritage. Though it wouldn’t be out of the question to view her as a white Creole, the result of European invasion, the strain that her leaving the Caribbean is prominent regardless. Furthermore, Brontë’s touch on gendered oppression is one of the many examples throughout the novel; none of the sisters were afraid of talking about women and their plight.

Lady Maria, in turn, is a woman also confined to an “attic” in a sense. As the very base of the Research Hall, Simon will tell you to [Simon Quote]. The emphasis on the size of the Research Hall and Clocktower as a whole is constantly emphasised to the player throughout the entire game, not just the DLC. The Astral Clocktower looms ever dominating over Yharnam, and even from the distant Cainhurst can one see it towering above. Even the name, the Astral Clocktower, instigates connotations of great size — Astral, from the later latin Astralis, from Astrum meaning “stars”. So, we scale it, the very use of the word “scale” here also giving connotations of a great feat we must endure — like scaling a mountain. The Research Hall is vertical and tall, a long building and we are constantly aware of its size and perilous drops. I am sure I’m not the only one to have pathetically rolled off of the edge…

When we surface, we’re atop a great tower; killing a boss with the same name as my viewers (okay that was mean sorry I don’t mean it I don’t mean it), we can take in the view. In a future video, I would like to go into a comparison between Dante’s Divine Comedy and Bloodborne — and this is one of the points I want to make: levels and ascension in the Hunter’s Nightmare perfectly mimics that of the epic poem. From the Underground Corpse Pile to the impossible Fishing Hamlet; the entire DLC is vertical. Furthermore I want to analyse Bloodborne’s three Nightmare realms as depictions of hell… but that is for a future video.

The reason I am describing this journey, emphasising scale and height, the sheer size of the Research Hall is to emphasise that isolation Lady Maria encompasses. She is not just a woman in the attic, destined to be trapped for want of guilt or madness by the hands of her oppressors, but entirely exiled from the world beyond. The inside of the Clocktower is a large room where a white void peaks out from beneath (another example of the impossibility, almost surrealism, of this Nightmare. The unreality of it). Lady Maria sits at the far end in a kind of stupor, a single table to her side holding a broken picture and a goblet.

Blood runs from her, but this bloodletting is not for her benefit. She drips crimson and a pool churns beneath her, a testament to how long she has been here; constantly dying, yet never allowed to pass. Lady Maria is exiled and the large, empty room is a testament to her loneliness. Never shall she see a friendly face again, only those swollen heads of innocents she, in the Waking World, did nothing to help. So, she pays penance for her living misdeeds, and takes care of these poor wretches out of guilt.

This is what I mean by a Bloodbornian twist on this trope. The women we see in the Fallen Woman concept are often victims of the society that does not protect them. In this depiction, Lady Maria is no hero. She is as guilty as the rest of the Hunters who defiled Kos’ corpse. Her only difference is that she felt tremendous guilt for it and ended up committing suicide in a fit of woe. I wonder if Kos felt even a slight bit of pity for her. Sure, she dragged her soul to the Nightmare as she did with them all, but her duty is far different to the rest. While Gehrman endures the endless dream, Maria has the autonomy to make amends. She hides the secret of the curse from all those wretchedly curious. It is no mercy, and I won’t pretend as though she is being kind in this punishment, but Maria is not a mindless, blood-drunk hunter like the rest of them. She has her wits, takes care of those in everlasting suffering, and is only really in exile.

Still, relating this to Bertha Mason, we can see how both she and Lady Maria relate to one another. One, a madwoman and a victim of society; the other, sane and the purveyor of this blood-bound curse. They contrast perfectly, yet match in their shared isolation and sheer loneliness.

Chapter II: Moor-Borne Madness

Emily Brontë published Wuthering Heights (NO. NOT THAT ONE.) on the 24th of November 1847; she died just over a year later in December of 1848. Perhaps even more infamous than Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights did not receive the same praise as her sister’s novel, but was scathed with harsh reviews and critiques calling the novel savage, brutish and “too odiously and abominably pagan”. It is a tale of trauma and cruelty, of nature-borne hideousness and the difference between nature and nurture. Uncensored and visceral, it is a protest against male dominion over women and exudes such a rage that breathes in the storm-bound moors the Heights stands strong against. [it’s a fucking fuck story!]

This is a story that would have made the “prim and proper” women of high Victorian society tremble and swoon. Even in the modern day is it beastly and uncomfortable — and utterly, unquestionably, mad.

Every single character in this coterie are, in some way or another, cruel; some, of course, more than others. But this cruelty is often not instinctual nor innate, but learned. In the savagery of the Moors, only the fittest can survive, even if that means acting selfish for ones own gain. Selflessness is not rewarded in the Heights, but punished.

Though Wuthering Heights strays away from the specific “woman in the attic” trope, it does have a strong theme of women’s servitude to men and unwillingly being a hostage as a result. Save Catherine Earnshaw’s wildness that forcibly was tamed into something sinister, it is this servitude that turns into a haunting; a reminder of guilt, and of a past not content with remaining there. I will go a little deeper in Chapter III about the duality between Maria and The Doll as a reminder of the guilt endured by the Old Hunters, but for now it’s just worth mentioning on the side.

This version of a Fallen Woman is far different from the one we see in Jane Eyre; she is not isolated nor exiled but free ever-moving, focusing on one task and one only: the torture of Heathcliffe. This is a unique expression of the trope as it uses more than Jane Eyre the outer character of the Moors in its manifestation. Catherine is as wild as the wind across the Moors, and we can compare this greatly to Lady Maria who does not have that luxury.

There is something to be said about the difference between Rural and Urban Gothicism, especially in the context of narratives that use these settings as important parts of the story. Bloodborne and Wuthering Heights does so in contrasting ways. Wuthering Heights’ Moors are alive and breathing, great impossible edifices of nature that can be argued to be a character in and of themselves. They represent Cathy’s desire for escape, her wildness that is eventually tames, and all the rage of the woman trapped within this male-dominating world, ever underestimated and infantilised. It is the epitome of the rural gothic, not unlike the more Romantic era (Mary Shelley, Ann Radcliffe, etc.), but not necessarily using nature as a relief for the horrors within; less of a duality, more weaving this nature within the terror.

In turn, Urban Gothicism uses the city the story is set as more than just set dressing. In the context of Bloodborne, Yharnam is a great, labyrinthine city that has a prominent role in the narrative. It is what the Hunter must navigate through, and though it is paramount to mention the nuance between comparing a video game to a book (in terms of the reader/player’s role, one being less important, the other making them actually part of the story), we can see how Bloodborne compares to Wuthering Heights in this manner. While Catherine uses the Moors to escape, even in her vengeful wraith-like form, Lady Maria can do no such thing. She is a spirit trapped within a Nightmare. She does not have the same autonomy as Catherine, but is bound to the Clocktower to continue her duty.

This is a great example of the different kinds of Fallen Women one can find in gothic media. Of course, Bloodborne is “gothic” in the more surface-level aesthetic manner, but it is also gothic in its narrative. There are many gothic themes such as women’s role in society, murder, trauma, and of course infanticide (as I listed as the start of this video). A good rule of thumb for those not overly familiar with this genre of literature and media is that not all Gothic works are horror, but most horror is Gothic. I say most here as there are many exceptions to this, and I won’t go into it now of course, but that is why we can have Gothic stories set in, for example, sci-fi settings. The only reason Gothic is associated with Victorian depravity or large, looming castles is due to its inception during that era. (And, of course, there’s something to be said about Gothic Architecture of the 12th century, but that’s neither here nor there).

Alas, returning to the topic at hand, these comparisons between Fallen Women only explains the range that this trope can cover; that the Gothic can cover too. The Fallen Woman is not just the woman locked in the attic, but the woman rejected and turned to desperation, to duty; the woman who haunts you, who does not die but who continues as a restless spirit within the memories of… someone. Be it a lover, a father, a brother, a mother, a sister — someone.

Chapter III: An Exegesis of Bloodbornian Tragedy

I’ve detailed the ways in which Lady Maria can be compared to two examples of the “Fallen Woman” trope, but what about looking at her story individually, without comparison? After all, Bloodborne is a piece of gothic media in more ways than one.

The Doll, the Hunter’s caregiver and level-up lady who resides stoic and mellow in the Hunter’s Dream, is the facsimile of Lady Maria. There is a common trope found amongst the Fallen Woman that is the duality of fallen verses ascended. As seen most clearly in Wilkie Collins’ 1860 Gothic Intrigue novel, The Woman In White, we can see Collins use this concept. Anne Catherick is this ghostly, wraithlike Woman In White; originally a supernatural entity but eventually found to be a madwoman deeply wronged by the villain of the tale. Laura Fairlie, by contrast, is the angelic, seraphic beauty who acts as the innocent love interest. Most notably, the two look strikingly similar.

One can already see the relation to Bloodborne. The Doll is innocent, a lack of autonomy and entirely in subservience to her Hunters. But she was made in the likeness of Lady Maria, the woman Gehrman loved and lost. The fact that she also committed suicide is another aspect that confirms Maria as a Fallen Woman. Suicide is a common aspect found in Gothic works that use this concept; a taboo subject that has the woman die in a “romantic” manner, often due to drowning. The visual of a woman floating, peaceful, in water holds much symbolism depending on the narrative. In that same vein, Maria’s suicide is not just glossed over as an explanation for her presence in the nightmare; it is a visceral part of her existence.

She cast her beloved Rakuyo into the Fishing Hamlet well, unable to bear the guilt any longer, and killed herself (likely slitting her own throat). Alas, Kos’ curse dragged her to the Nightmare and forced her to bear the weight of what she did — her Rakuyo is there with her, and the sight of it must have haunted her every single second. We approach her as she sits, exiled as I mentioned before, on a chair, alone. A goblet and broken picture sits at her side — this is a vision of how she died. Blood drips from her fingertips and she is slumped; a corpse. Furthermore, as we fight her, her phase transition has her impale herself with her own blade. It is a powerful image of a woman on the edge, desperate to keep the secret of the Nightmare hidden, and using her inability to die to do so. But it is also bittersweet as I like to think we, upon her defeat, free her from the anguish. She will not wake up — she’s dead after all — but she will now know peace.

But of course, that all depends on what, in this world, lies in death; death we cannot know.

In less feminist-leaning works, the Fallen Woman was often seen as a cautionary figure for women who may be tempted to “destroy” her family with her actions. They are usually the focal point of gothic works, and sometimes seen as villainous. An explanation for why women were kept upon such a tight lead in the family hierarchy. A patriarchal figure who was then reclaimed by the Brontës. Lady Maria, in turn, is a cautionary figure. She warns The Hunter not to trespass and indulge in their “wild curiosity”. She explains that she, too, was a slave to the sweetly beckoning secrets, and now this is her fate.

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

Also do check out Ailing Loran YouTube where I post video versions of these essays with my own narration and visuals!

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‘God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—
Why look’st thou so?’—With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS. (Lines 79-4)

Samuel Taylor Coleridge initially wrote The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, a tale of maritime gothicism, divine punishment, and repentance, in 1798, and spent the rest of his life revising the text until the final version in 1834; the year of his death. In a previous version, in 1817, Coleridge added marginal “gloss”, no not that kind, but a kind of explanatory annotation that helped to explain the poet’s intentions. In this video, I will be using both the original 1798 version, and the revised interchangeably, but it is worth mentioning regardless that yes, there are differences between the two editions, but the meaning, metaphor, and allegory more or less stays the same.

The poem is 625 lines and tells the tale of a bemoaned Mariner who endured preternatural punishment for his crime aboard a ship; shooting an innocent Albatross. In doing so, he condemns the crew of the ship to a visit with death as they both decry and sympathise with the Mariner. The poem is full of gothic imagery and maritime horror, engaging in themes such as intense loneliness and isolation, religious penance, and survivor guilt. Furthermore, it was written in a frame narrative — a literary device that has an outer scene that occurs, usually, after the events of the main narrative, explain the story. I was always taught to think of a picture frame — the frame being the… well… frame narrative, and the actual picture being the embedded narrative.

The frame is the Mariner talking to a wedding guest and explaining his woes. An interesting fact to mention here, and something I will go into in further depth later, is the fact that the Mariner somehow kept the wedding guest against his will, using only his “glistening eyes”. As if in a trance.

To be candid, I am incredibly excited to share this video with you all. This has been a week or two in the works, and I am thrilled to say I have not seen anyone talk so in depth about this pretty overt connection! I do truly believe this must have been at least mentioned in production, for though of course Bloodborne is inspired by Lovecraft’s work… holy shit, the amount of connections I saw in this poem is insane. As I said in a community post, I do truly think that Lovecraft’s influence is only a surface-level read of the game. For my research, and what I will extensively quote here, I used Malcom Guite’s Mariner; a biography and analysis of the Ancient Mariner, which I have linked below.

Chapter I: A Burden of Blood

The source of the nightmare sits upon the coastline, beckoned by the ebb-tide, a corpse. But Kos is aglow in purity, in beauty, in wasted maternity; she is innocence manifest, and twisted into something malevolent. Her flesh is white, and throughout history and folklore has pregnancy been a symbol of purity and virtue. She emanates a curse, one borne of human greed, ambition, and a desire to play god. To go against nature, specifically, is a cardinal sin within these two worlds, and it is the death and violation of something pure that condemns the damned.

Religion and science, theism and empiricism, are woven quite overtly throughout Bloodborne. In the search for knowledge, and in turn ascension, The Healing Church must have some belief in greater beings beyond their comprehension. Of course, the only reason this may be related to theism is our society’s vision of religion — a belief in a higher entity, more often than not benevolent (at least, in believer’s eyes), and never anything eldritch. Bloodborne takes the concept of a malevolence in a “God” and runs with it. The hierarchy of the Healing Church (the fact it’s called a Church in the first place proves my point here) use religious titles: Vicars and Clerics. Coleridge, in turn, was deeply in tune with his own religion; his father and brother being holymen, and he himself had a close connection to Christianity that becomes apparent through his poetry.

“Now the relationship between the ship’s company and the bird, already made sacred by shared hospitality and the invocation of God’s name, is given a further association with vespers, the last prayers at night, and with the moonlight, which will prove so redemptive for the mariner later in the poem.” (Guite, 151)

The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner is a poem sodden in religious vision. The Albatross itself is a manifestation of all different kinds of symbolism. In this video, I want to make the claim that the Albatross in its great, white, imposing state — a white bird, representing purity and freedom — mirrors Kos so perfectly. From that quote alone we can see where Malcom Guite begins to analyse the poem from the perspective of a Coleridge historian; with deep knowledge of his life, and so able to see allegory in reference to it. Crime & Punishment is a very prominent part of Religion, and is that which makes up the concept of sin, so there is little wonder Bloodborne uses vibrant religious iconography and metaphor throughout its narrative. The game, like the poem, is built up from a single crime. To shoot an Albatross, to defile a God.

For those unaware, the Mariner in the poem brings about a week of psychological and preternatural torture due to the bizarre decision to shoot and kill an Albatross that decided to seek refuge upon the drifting ship. Albatross’ are glorious sea birds, not unlike seagulls but so insanely large; with their wingspan typically reaching 2.5–3.5 metres. The Mariner shoots the bird and kills it, despite the religious imagery in its arrival indicating that the sailors upon this ship (which is now drifting amongst ice floes, likely doomed if they did not correct their course) thought the Albatross to be an effigy of “a Christian soul”. So, if we take this and compare it to Bloodborne, the connections are rampant.

Firstly, I make the claim that the ship’s crew represent the Fishing Hamlet villagers. By the end of the poem, the crew are not spared but killed and used as another instrument in the Mariner’s punishment. He must endure to look at their rotting faces, full of regret. In that same vein, the Hamlet’s villagers are distorted and corrupted; turned piscine and fishlike under Kos’ curse. In the lore, the villagers were innocent, and when Kos washed up on the beach the villagers were already exhibiting symptoms of the parasites that festered from her. In turn, the ship’s crew were innocent, and it is the Mariner — who represents the Old Hunters, I argue specifically Gehrman, which I will talk about in more depth later — who is the true and only culprit. As the Accursed Brew item says:

“Skull of a local from the violated fishing village. The inside of the skull was forcibly searched for eyes, as evidenced by innumerable scratches and indentations. No wonder the skull became stewed in curses. They who offer baneful chants. Weep with them, as one in trance.”

As we know, the Old Hunters are the reason for this nightmare, this endless hunt, this inability to die. The existence of the Fishing Hamlet, of all of the beasts of Yharnam, are their burden to bear; an example of their guilt. The Albatross, in turn, is hung (somehow… the birds are fucking huge) around the Mariner’s neck as a testimony for this. “Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung”. Malcolm Guite goes on to say, in relation to this, that:

“If there is a mystery in goodness, there is also a mystery in human evil, something unfathomable and inexplicable in the perversity of the human world, in our propensity to make havoc of things when they are at their best and to destroy our own happiness when it is at its height.” (Guite, 152)

This is in relation to the randomness by which the Mariner kills the Albatross, entirely unmotivated and never explained. This, of course, contrasts to Bloodborne as we know exactly the motivation of the Healing Church to defile Kos’ corpse. In turn, they did not kill Kos, but only arrived when her corpse washed up. This is an example of how Fromsoft does not explicitly state lore and nothing is necessarily confirmed — it could have been the Hamlet villagers, (but I doubt it they were ordinary working people, and if it takes from The Shadow Over Innsmouth then they would have worshipped her rather than seek her death), the parasite that infected the Hamlet, complications with her Orphan’s birth or a multitude of other factors. The point of this is that the actual death of Kos is not important, it is what the Old Hunters did to her and the villagers — defiled them. This is how Bloodborne and The Ancient Mariner differ yet still maintain similar aspects. Most notably being the curse.

Chapter II: An Orphan’s Curse

“An orphan’s curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.” (Lines 253-62)

I want to take a moment to close read this particular stanza from the middle of the poem. This is during the height of the Mariner’s torture, following the crew’s death at the hands of the Night-mare Life-In-Death entity — “her skin was as white as leprosy”. He is lamenting it all, at rock bottom as he sits upon this still sea constantly under the eyes of his dead crew- mates who lay, decaying, around him. The “orphan’s curse” is of particular note here, not only for the poem but also for its relation to Bloodborne (I mean… cmon… “orphan’s curse”? Do I even need to explain?). In relation to the poem, it symbolises the very height of a tortured soul cursing its torturer. “Orphan” being an allusion to both innocence and wretchedness, of a pure soul being forced into utter hell. This, of course, is in reference to the Albatross, but when one thinks about it in terms of Bloodborne, one can already see how close these two pieces of fiction ride.

The Orphan of Kos, though not the one who cursed the Hunters and their children, represents this rotten innocence. It crawls from its mother’s lacerated womb and weeps. When it fights us, it screams and screams like a newborn — we are fighting a baby, a rotten, twisted, corrupted baby. In this way, we can see how the poem, if one thinks about the Mariner as a representation of Gehrman, can be connected to Bloodborne. He is cursed, and the way the Orphan of Kos weeps sounds ominously like Gehrman’s own lamentation in the dream. This isn’t a coincidence, and many have speculated as to why this is — my favourite theory being that, just how one nurtures a child, the first thing the Orphan heard was Gehrman’s voice, so it adapted to it.

Of course, I will briefly also mention Willbur of H.P Lovecraft’s The Dunwich Horror, but literally only to tell you to go read that short story for a deeper look (and to also watch this episode of my deep dive into Bloodborne’s literary influences series where I talk about it). Willbur and the Orphan are uncannily similar.

Anyway, fact that the poem mentions the Orphan’s curse with “would drag to hell a spirit from on high” can not only be translated as that the weight of the curse the Mariner bears is so powerful that it can drag an angel from heaven, but also in connection to Laurence, The First Vicar.

I mentioned briefly the fact that the hierarchy of the Healing Church being named after religious titles and the importance of religion in Coleridge’s life. If we look at this through the lens of a divine soul, Laurence as not only powerful in the Healing Church but also in some kind of divine state, we can see how this quote encompasses his fate. Laurence, from the eyes of Gehrman, could be this “spirit from on high” — he begs Laurence to save him from the Dream after all, and with Gehrman, though being the first hunter, being an underling to Laurence, I wonder how far fetched it is to assume that he, in some way, worshipped Laurence to a certain degree. Either way, Laurence, in Bloodborne, is this “spirit from on high”, being dragged by the Orphan’s curse. If a man with such power and ambition can be dragged to hell all the same — well, it really does prove the equality of humanity. In the end, it was his ambition that burned up.

Furthermore, I wonder if “spirit from on high” can also be acquainted to something more physically divine. Rom? Ebrietas? The One Reborn? Oedon himself? All are dragged to Yharnam in one way or another — and as we know, it is Kos’ curse that kickstarted this whole nightmare. Could this line be in awe at the power of the curse as it drags literal gods and divine entities to a corporeal plane?

From there we can go onto the next lines, But oh! more horrible than that/Is the curse in a dead man’s eye! It is here that the Mariner notices the stares of those corpses slumped around him. He is merciful and regretful, full of guilt for those that he indirectly killed with his hubris. It is interesting to note the “curse in a dead man’s eye”, as it makes one think that something is living inside of these corpses. It isn’t just that the curse lingers within the dead crew, but it churns and writhes, for why else would it be more horrible than a curse so powerful that it drags angels from heaven? This is a testament to Coleridge’s ability to create horror using both overt divine malevolence as well as more subtle uncanny. To relate this to Bloodborne, of course the use of the word “eye” can be directly connected due to its prominence as a motif throughout the game. Most notably this quote from my beloved Micolash:

This is a direct desire for enlightenment, and of course for new players could just be a bit of a metaphor, but alas…

“Use to gain Insight and, so they say, eyes on the inside, although no one remembers what that truly entails. (one third umbilical cord)”

If we use the theory that the quote from the poem means a writhing, living curse, then we can see how closely connected Bloodborne’s own motif is. Like a parasite, the curse churns within a victim, but is this a curse or a blessing? For Bloodborne, it could be either, for as I said there is a great emphasis on this curse in a dead man’s eye — more so than something objectively more terrifying.

Finally, “Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,/And yet I could not die.” For Coleridge, the seven days and nights is an allusion to the bible. Just as God supposedly toiled in creating the earth, the Mariner in direct comparison toils in this torture of playing god; or, attempting to. It is a confirmation of mortality, and a punishment for those wishing to somehow ascend and abuse nature. I will go into the metaphysical side of things in a later chapter, but just briefly I will mention that Coleridge, like many Romantic poets of the earlier generation (such as his best friend William Wordsworth), was utterly and ardently enamoured by the concept of nature — most specifically, what lies behind the curtain of nature. What exists beyond our comprehension, what we cannot see. Thus, the Mariner does not respect this nature — as a figure of example — and instead goes against “God’s creatures” and kills one, a representation of the divine.

This, in turn, makes the Mariner himself unable to return to the ether. If he should try to play God, he will understand that a mortal brain cannot fathom eternity. Death will not come for him for he is given a taste of what he seemingly wanted: immortality and the consequence of watching everyone around you perish and rot while you continue living. This is the true terror of the poem — and why I mentioned the uncanny, for it goes against all things we know. Immortality, for anything, should not be allowed to exist, and it is a torture to endure.

In the same respect, Gehrman suffers a similar fate. It is speculated as to how long the initial Fishing Hamlet expedition took place, but many assume it has been a good hundred or so years since. Gehrman has, since then, been trapped within the Hunter’s Dream and unable to escape. He has been painfully aware of his inability to die — this is not a taste of immortality, this is it in full. We can see how the years have made their mark on him, how he is losing himself, and we can get further information of his duty and existence from the Doll who says:

“He was a hunter long, long ago, but now serves only to advise them. He is obscure, unseen in the dreaming world. Still, he stays here, in this dream... ...such is his purpose.”

and

“Oh, good hunter. I can hear Gehrman sleeping. On any other night, he'd be restless. But on this night, he sounds so very calm. ...Perhaps something has eased his suffering.”

She constantly emphasises both his suffering and the amount of time that has passed. Of course, as an unreliable narrator is, we shouldn’t take her word entirely as how can time be measured in the dream? But, if we do use her information, then we can safely say Gehrman has been suffering for a long, long time. He is this Mariner trapped upon the ship, surrounded by the dead; he lives in a graveyard, after all, surrounded by headstones of passed hunters, as the Doll enlightens us.

“Over time, countless hunters have visited this dream. The graves here stand in their memory. It all seems so long ago now...”

Chapter III: The Moon and She Whom Colds Man’s Blood

Just like Gehrman, and as I mentioned before, the Mariner endures a curse of isolation, stagnation, and preternatural horror. But this goes beyond just the fact that they are both forced into a state of unnatural exile. There are multiple aspects to this connection that I wish to cover, most notably the Ancient Mariner’s connection with the moon and sun respectively.

Matthew Guite explains that:

“Certainly Coleridge’s own experiences of moonlight, especially moonlight on water, had something of that quality, as for example this brief passage from one of the notebooks shows: ‘Quiet stream, with all its eddy [sic]& the moon light playing in them; quiet, as if they were ideas in the divine Mind anterior to the creation.’” (Guite, 259)

As I explained before, he and William Wordsworth had a close relationship — Coleridge often finding solace in the Lake District, Wordsworth’s home, and of course being inspired by the great sprawling vistas and sublime. The Moon he mentions in many of his works, most notably the Opium-fuelled madness of Kubla Khan:

“As though all the Sea over had beene burning flames of fire, and all the night long, the moone being downe, you might see to read in any book by the light thereof.” (Kubla Khan)

I don’t need to say that the moon has a prominent presence (hah) within Bloodborne. But to further emphasise how these two pieces of fiction can be related is through the use of the moon and sun to transition states; that of which happens in both. In Bloodborne, it acts as the determinate for which phase of the game one is in. It transitions during important story beats — the defeat of Vicar Amelia and the discovery of Laurence and Willem’s separation; the defeat of Rom and the secret of the Nightmare newborn unleashed; as well as the transition from Waking World to Nightmare realm. The moon can show the player the state of the location too — with Mensis and Cainhurst maintaining a pale full moon, while the Nightmare realms exhibit a glaring sun.

A similar expression can be compared with the Ancient Mariner where each mention of the moon announces a transition for each of the Mariner’s phases. Most notably, in the romantic, folkloric and mythological notion of the moon being female, she is benevolent and on the side of the Mariner.

“Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast—"

If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.” (Lines 414-21)*

This quote especially shows the unnaturalness of the Mariner’s experience. The sea is still, and the constant eye motif once again rears its head. Once again, related to Bloodborne, the eye motif and the moon motif being closely aligned. It is under this moonlight that all things “slimy” and otherworldly crawl from the sea, where stagnation turns to something beyond our mortal realm. This sounds awfully familiar to this note found in Byrgenwerth:

“When the red moon hangs low, the line between man and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with child.”

When the moon is the closest, the line between reality and the cosmic blurs. As I will go into a bit later, and as I mentioned before, Coleridge believed there to be a world beyond the veil of nature, and we must use art and science to peel back the curtain and see things we were never meant to see.

In turn, I have a theory regarding the use of the sun and moon in both the poem and the game. In the Ancient Mariner, the sun is described as:

“All in a hot and copper sky
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.” (Lines 107-14)

The “bloody Sun” — it has connotations of something cruel and negative, in contrast to the cool graciousness of the moon. She, in turn, acts like a relief. I relate this to Bloodborne in the way the moon and the, supposed, sun presents. Though it isn’t confirmed that the Hunter’s Nightmare and Frontier hosts a sun rather than just a painfully bright moon, I do love the idea that there sits within these unnatural places the antithesis of what we know in the Waking World. The sun we see in the game is not kind. It is harsh and bright, a cruel difference to the kind night we are so used to throughout the game.

Returning to Gehrman and Kos specifically, I want to take a moment to talk about the iconic character in the poem: the Night-Mare Life-In-Death.

“Her lips were read, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold;
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare Life-in-Death was she,
“Who thicks man’s blood with cold.”

I want to do another close reading here as this stanza alone is full of such beautiful and important imagery regarding Kos. Throughout Bloodborne, there is an emphasis on Monstrous Women and I would love to make a video diving deeper into this topic soon, but most notably Kos as the purveyor of the curse and in the form of a maritime monster. A sea monster is a folkloric trope found across coastal settlements, and Kos represents this trope in a Bloodbornian fashion. She is an otherworldly creature, but most notably is she — well,, a she. When you defeat her child and return his soul to the ocean, you can fully appreciate just how beautiful Kos really is. She lies serene, and her features are, like her child, uncannily human. Her face is hidden in a shroud, and a beautiful countenance peaks out from betwixt. As the quote describing Life-In-Death depicts a beautiful if not pale and sickly woman, so too does Kos seem to appear as this.

It is notable that she is also described as a “Night-mare”; as it is Kos’ will that curses these hunters to a Nightmare. The existence of the Nightmare as a whole is at the will of Kos. Furthermore “Life-in-Death”. As the Eye Of A Blood Drunk Hunter item explains:

“A hunter who goes drunk with blood is said to be taken by the Nightmare, destined to wander forever, engaged in an endless hunt. It is a fate that no hunter can escape.”

The Hunter’s Nightmare is this Life-In-Death; it is eternity without death. Those Old Hunters who wished to die, such as Lady Maria, were left unable to do so and instead dragged to the Hunter’s Nightmare. Kos is this Life-In-Death in both her physicality and also her spiritual entity as the creator of this nightmare.

For the Ancient Mariner, her “locks were yellow as gold” has connotations of the aureate and the angelic. She is a corrupted seraph, an uncanny version of this benevolent being. As Gustave Doré shows in his illustration of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, she is beautiful in a supernatural kind of way. This seraphic beauty is completely undermined by the following line: “Her skin was as white as leprosy”. Of course, in relation to Kos, this needn’t be much explained. Kos has white flesh by design, to further her aforementioned innocence that was destroyed by the Old Hunters in her defilement. But in the Ancient Mariner, the use of the word leprosy especially is of note as has the nuance of something unwell and sickly, something to be avoided. Back before medicine came out of its primitive state in the mid-19th century, it was not uncommon to see wandering lepers in need of charity. In the bible, too, does Jesus notably cleanse the Leper in Matthew 8:1-4; Mark 1:40-45; Luke 5:12-16. With skin as white as leprosy, Coleridge is telling us just how unnatural Life-In-Death is; how much the Mariner likely was repulsed by her.

Finally, and a really intriguing connection here, is the final line. “Who thicks man’s blood with cold.” Coldblood in Bloodborne is explained as:

“Hunters sustained by the dream gain strength from Blood Echoes. They imbibe the blood with thoughts of reverence, indeed gratitude, for their victims.”

This means that the coldblood found is the coagulated blood of long-dead hunters. Cold blood in the context of the Ancient Mariner of course is an allusion to the common horror trope of blood running cold due to fear. But if I am being honest, I do not think it is a coincidence that there is also an item in Bloodborne called Thick Coldblood, it’s description being:

“The strong will produces thick blood. Doubtless, the product of obsession, a potent source of human strength.”

I wonder at everyone’s thoughts about this, but my interpretation is that the cold blood of the Mariner is fear, and it is actually the fear of hunters that becomes one’s strength. I wonder if it is the echoes of a soul’s last moments that becomes the hunter’s strength, not only the blood. In that same vein, I wonder how far we can dive into this theory. Was it the fear of the Old Blood that actually emboldened Laurence’s ambition? It was the last thing Willem warned of him before he founded the Healing Church, after all. Cold Blood is a specific term, always purposeful in the typical Fromsoft manner, and to chill one’s blood is, as I mentioned, a common trope in horror. It elicits horror.

As Bloodborne takes from classic gothicism, I wonder if this is an apt interpretation due to the influence Ann Radcliffe, one of the first Gothic authors and the pioneer of the genre, and her essay On The Supernatural In Poetry. It is here she defines the difference between terror and horror — the former being the fear of the unknown, while the latter is the release of a sudden scare. The game itself being deemed a horror game in aesthetic, I wonder if this is too far of a stretch to wonder if it is the innate fear that writhes and churns in our blood that gives us our strength. Fear does incite adrenaline, after all.

I also realised that Life-In-Death could be looked at as Queen Yharnam, at least through her appearance and her presence in the Nightmare of Mensis. Do let me know which you think, I’ll see about going a bit deeper into this in the comments perhaps. Also that the Queen Yharnam herself could be determined as the Life-In-Death.

Chapter IV: Behind The Veil of Nature

Guite also says:

“’The tyranny of the eye’, to alert us to the formative reality of invisible qualities and values to counterbalance our obsession with visible facts, with the quantifiable, with dead things that can only be weighed and measured.” (Guite, 11)

It isn’t a surprise to see how one can relate this to Bloodborne’s own philosophy. Though it dives into Cosmicism, which is the belief that humanity is entirely meaningless, that:

“There is no recognizable divine presence, such as a god, in the universe, and that humans are particularly insignificant in the larger scheme of intergalactic existence." Nguyen, Trung (20 December 2016). History of Humans. Is There a God?. Vol. 3.

I believe also that the philosophy Coleridge held is an explored philosophy throughout the game. He believed in, as I mentioned before, a veil of nature that one must find a way to pull back. The way he described it was romantic, using a metaphor of language that one must understand. Likely these were also opium-fuelled thoughts, as Coleridge had a crippling addiction to the substance. Of course, this was in no small manner the fault of the Regency and Victorian flippancy when it came to substance abuse. Opium was a prescribed drug for all kinds of diagnoses, so there was little to no regulation.

“As we shall see, Coleridge was beset by nightmares as a direct consequence not so much of his opium addiction as of his attempts to withdraw from it, but there was also another sense in which the dreamlike and beautiful, particularly in his images of and relations to women, eventually became tragically shadowed and nightmarish.” (Guite, 214)

Addiction is closely linked to mental illness, which was in turn a prominent vice to 19th century England. I will make a video going over the history of madness in England in relation to Bloodborne (what with madness being a very important theme throughout the game), but let’s just say here that Coleridge’s addiction made way for opiate-fuelled madness, and thus resulted in the manic visuals of the Ancient Mariner.

Returning to the concept of Coleridge’s metaphysics, this quote taken from a letter of his is the perfect example of how his philosophy aligns with the incomprehension and hidden entities that have always existed beyond our feeble consciousnesses that Bloodborne exhibits:

“I readily believe that there are more invisible beings in the universe than visible. But who will declare to us the nature of all these, the rank, the relationships, distinguishing characteristics and qualities of each? What is it they do? Where is it they dwell? Always the human intellect circles around the knowledge of these mysteries, never touching the centre. […] But meanwhile we must diligently seek after truth, and maintain a temperate judgement, if we would distinguish certainty from uncertainty, day from night.” (Guite, 12)

I love this quote, specifically “Always the human intellect circles around the knowledge of these mysteries, never touching the centre”, as it explains Bloodborne’s lore to an absolute T. This would not be out of place having been spoken by Laurence, for it was the ambition of the Healing Church, Byrgenwerth and Mensis to stop dancing around these unseen mysteries and instead discover this knowledge for themselves. It is that ambition that kills them, succumbs them to this fate, and it is in turn the ambition of the Mariner — he who wished to play god, I believe, in the death of the Albatross — that throws him into hell.

It is an interesting point to note, and another aspect that has led me to believe in the inspiration that has been drawn from this poem.

Chapter V: Blood-Sucking Similarities

My main points about the connection between The Rime of The Ancient Mariner and Bloodborne has been stated, but I have some other smaller references that I want to mention too but with a bit less analysis. I don’t really think I need to delve too deep into these concepts, but it is just extra layering to further hammer home my point here that The Ancient Mariner is such a wonderful reference point for all things Bloodbornian lore. Their similarities are uncanny in some places.

Anyway, let’s begin with this quote:

“With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!” (Lines 157-61)

To which Malcolm Guite comments:

“It adds to the undercurrent or theme of blood and blood-guilt, and it anticipates the chilling lines to come: ‘Fear at my heart, as at a cup/My life-blood seemed to sip’, but as so often it is the gloss which comments on and suggests the deeper sacral framing of the poem.” (Guite, 209)

Here, in short, the Mariner gains momentary vitality in a manic decision to bite his arm and drink his own blood. Not only does this relate to as Guite explains, blood guilt, which can also be related to Bloodborne in the blood that was spilt of Kos and the Hamlet villagers, but of course the very concept of drinking blood to gain strength. This awfully vampiric idea is the very basis of Bloodborne’s healing system and, really, everything about the game. The Blood Healing that is said to have become “more potent than alcohol”. It is desperation that brings the Mariner to this, it is ambition and greed that brings us hunters to it. Contrasting, but not too far apart.

My second point here is the duality between poetry and empiricism. I mention this briefly, and won’t go in too deep as there are so many who have gone over this already, so I am going to use this as my opportunity to direct my viewers to this awesome essay that goes into the idea of “romantic science”. This is of course linked in the description below. I have gone over the idea of religion verses science in Yharnam and how both interlink and weave together in this video, and thus in a similar vein, Coleridge believed in the “warmth” of the sciences as described here:

“We have grown used to the deep and debilitating split in our culture between the arts and sciences, used to thinking of the arts as warm and genial and the sciences as cold and factual, but Coleridge insists, he must ‘warm’ his ‘mind with universal sciences’” (Guite, 102)

Bloodborne uses this concept, I want to argue, in the manner of which it uses literature in tandem with medical history in its pool of inspirations. I have gone through comparing Victorian surgery to Bloodborne in this video here, so I won’t delve much deeper than this! Just another connection!

Another incredibly brief connection is the Judeo-Christian inspirations in both Bloodborne and The Ancient Mariner. The former uses religious hierarchy, as I have mentioned before, and the former uses all manner of allusion to the bible. Another example being the Chalice rituals which I would love to make a longer video on.

Okay, that was a bit of a nothing-y chapter but I think it was worth mentioning these smaller but still notable connections regardless!

Thank you for traversing this sinister chalice with me <3

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