The problem with finishing something is that you then have to start something else.
Playing video games and then writing about them. Why do we do this? Is it important? Is it some sort of release? Or is it a justification for all the time we spend on video games? Does it cleanse the palette? Does it help to make sense of what we experience?
Is Dark Souls a good game or just a very addictive one? Is it a net positive for my life? Or does it simply and plainly devour all of my time? Is the friction it produces in my brain so perfect and gratifying that I could play it forever and still not actually enrich my life in any way? Is the depressing tone it spreads all over me like butter on toast a philosophical thesis to learn from? Or is it a kind of cushy, murky cavern for my habitually depressive sub-conscious to curl up in while the rest of my otherwise creative mind stiffens and clots?
I don’t know! I’m currently of two minds about all of this. There are a lot of Dark Souls apologists and proselytizers out there who have made a good portion of their life’s work to dissect and explain the lore and themes and what deeper meaning the gameplay loops probably have.