I’ve been playing Dark Souls recently, getting much farther than I ever have before and enjoying myself greatly. Two days ago, after several attempts and a run back to the sewers to farm some rats for Humanity, I finally defeated the infamous Ornstein and Smough (as well as the jackasses that guard the room they hang out in) and was able to proceed into what I’m told is the second half of the game.

But first, the finale of the first act: upstairs from Ornstein and Smough is a chamber, golden light overflowing into the hallway outside. On the approach, numerous player-provided warnings of “Chest ahead” were scrawled across every free inch of the floor. Inside, an enormous woman with an enormous bosom reclining on a platform was gazing benevolently at me. Once I drew close, an action appeared: Kneel.

This is Gwynevere, the Princess of Sunlight. She’s here to reward me for all my hard work! You see, I’m the Chosen Undead, and I’m here to collect the Lordvessel so I can usher in a new Age of Fire, or something like that. That’s what everyone keeps telling me, anyway. Gwynevere gives me the vessel and sends me off on my way with gushing praise for my work so far, sweet prayers for my future success, and a soaring triumphant soundtrack to make sure I know I’m a good little Undead doing good work out there in service of the Flame or Sun or whatever.

That’s nice, Gwynevere.

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