A Meaningless Distinction?

"Grim Dark" and "Souls-like" Explored

Credit: Photo by River Timermanis from Unsplash

Valar morghulis. Valar dohaeris. The High Valyrian for "All men must die. All men must serve."

If you know anything about the Valyrians of the 'King of Grimdark' George R.R. Martin's seminal A Song of Ice and Fire, you understand what a dark and tragic history is contained in those words. And you understand that no member of that universe escapes the dark.

Consider also...

"To be alive... to walk this Earth... That's the real curse right there." A line delivered in the progenitor video game series of 'souls-like' games, in Dark Souls 2. This sums up well the vibe of the entire series. (A game which I only made it not much further than interacting with this character in.)

The literary sub-genre of grim dark fantasy and the gaming genre of 'souls-like' exist for those of us who like unflinching blood and grit and hopelessness in our entertainment. Given their popularity, one might imagine a long history. Yet the oldest of the pair, grim dark was born from 1987's tabletop version of Warhammer 40K. The exact quote of birth: "In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war."

'Souls-like' is more than a generation younger born of FromSoftware's 2009 Demon's Soul and cemented with its spiritual offspring Dark Souls I, II, and III.

The influence of the former is clearly evident in the latter. But with time, the evolution of literature and gaming, and the opinions of fans, has the meaning of these become murky enough to be meaningless distinctions in their fields?

Muddy Waters

Now that I've raised the hackles of purists, I might as well explain myself.

To illustrate: fantasy readers often subdivide the fantasy genre into two, main camps --'high' fantasy and 'low' fantasy. Think Tolkien vs. Samantha Shannon. Typically, so-called 'high' fantasy takes place in a completely mythic world and contains much more complex mechanics. So-called 'low' fantasy, typically, takes place in the real world with mythical elements intertwined. (High fantasy: The Circle of the World vs. Low fantasy: Hogwarts) But outside of an incredibly eccentric book shop, a special display in a library, or Reddit, you won't find fantasy books shelved or divided this way.

Now string this into further subgenres. You should begin to see how diluted the idea becomes.

The argument over souls-like games isn't all that different.

Souls-like falls underneath role-playing games (RPGs) which can then be divided into action or drama (or both) and then into souls-like. More-and-more games appear to borrow what might be considered the elements of difficulty which make a souls-like game but maybe, only sorta, be souls-like themselves (per the fandom). Then games like Black Myth: Wukong hit, and, well, damn.

Perhaps gaming should adopt the literary 'speculative' for instances where a game essentially crosses genres? Instead of speculative fiction, we get speculative RPGs.

Is It (Not) Though?

The Royal Family of Grim Dark -- arguably King Martin, Prince Abercrombie, Dark Duke Lawrence, etc. -- sets the standard. But... such truly only involves a particular tone and manner of treating characters. With this in mind, what do we do with something like Pierce Brown's Red Rising universe? Or, perhaps more closely (if you're getting pissy about distinctions between science fiction and fantasy) Brent Weeks's The Night Angel trilogy?

By the standard (arbitrary) measuring sticks, Brown and Weeks are out in these examples of their work. But should they be? Just because Brown falls into SFF and Weeks's work isn't completely bleak with nihilism and amoralism, does that disqualify their works from being 'grim dark'? (Even the members of the grim dark court offer threads of hope.)

Likewise, should Lies of P be souls-like because of its sparse, brooding world and near-silent protagonist where Wukong isn't because of the richer, visually brighter world? Or do all games that warrant the souls-like label need to be as equally dark and brutal as the Souls games?

Ask five people; get eight answers.

The same question could be asked respectively of R.F. Kuang's Poppy Wars and Dragon's Dogma 2 or a dozen other titles in either medium.

Does It Matter?

Well that's the question, innit?

To purists, the clear distinctions matter a lot. To Brandon Sanderson (decidedly and purposefully not grim dark), it matters less than a random bowl of cereal he ate at age ten. Like most subdividing labels, the distinctions can be very helpful in certain instances but pestersome in others.

Where I want to read a very particular type of book or play a very particular type of game, the additional distinction helps. The same is true if I want to avoid either one. I almost never turn away a proclaimed grim dark book. I almost always reject a 'truly' souls-like game. (The money for new controllers adds up after awhile.)

Other than their marketing guidance, the labels don't mean as much as they used to. They mean more for an argument's sake than anything else. The older practice but newer label of speculative fiction moots this and similar specific distinctions in literature. The piece-meal adoption of souls-like elements into games like Star Wars Jedi and Fallen Order muddies the water enough that something can be tagged action/adventure and turn enough of a souls-like trick to cause head scratching.

So... are the distinctions meaningless? Personally, I can't completely decide.

They provide enough of a rough guidepost to be meaningful. But necessary? Worth raising my blood pressure on a message board over? No, they're not.

Grim dark is more a fan construction than a publisher or author construction. Souls-like is a similarly situated label. Both can be more burdensome to creators and gamers than helpful, because they setup potentially unjust comparisons. Grim dark implies a work needs to live up the standards of the royal court. Souls-like implies that no difficult RPG, with the elements of FromSoftware's originals, can ever quite live up to those standards.

As consumers of these, we have a guidepost but also a warning. If a work isn't characterized in these ways, we may avoid it -- if that's what we're looking for. We may miss out on something great because of this. This inverse is also true, and we may find ourselves immersed in a work we'd rather not be. (DNF anyone?)

Essentially, everything boils down to the same, sage advice: Read and play whatever grabs your attention. If it turns out grim darkish or soul-likeish, appreciate it for what it is and enjoy or put it down and move on.

Just... be prepared to argue about it.