Hollow Knight - wonder is the best way to spend our time
Video games ask each of us what is the best way to spend our time. Each game gives us a world, from a chessboard to entire universes, a set of actions through which we can interact with the world, and different goals which correspond to the actions. Hollow Knight, a creepy-cute, action-exploration game about bugs, variously explores the world by running, jumping, climbing, and dashing, fights bosses by slashing and wielding magic, and uncover secrets and forgotten memories by listening and using the dream nail to enter the minds of other bugs in the world.
Playing Hollow Knight felt like a long process of learning about and fully understanding the world to the point of mastery. Each trek into the blank portions of the map reveal hidden corners of the world, new equipment, and skills which lead to more of Hollownest. Each death to a boss teaches you how they move and fight, and how you need to move and fight to survive and win. Hollow Knight is a journey from weakness and ignorance to strength and intention by understanding and internalizing the way of the world. When I started, I often jumped and flailed my nail hopelessly and ineffectually against punishing bosses, usually dashing straight into their attacks. After I ‘got good’, I mostly stood still. Now, I let the bosses flail uselessly, waiting and only striking when I knew they would be weak, achieving through non-action.
Through its gameplay, Hollow Knight teaches and reveals its philosophy of life: there is no struggle too challenging to be overcome by patience, learning, and mastery. This fits perfectly with the story: the Pale King tries and fails and tries and fails hundreds and thousands of times to create one pure vessel to defeat the Radiance. Over time the Pale King learns and eventually he produces a child who is able to master the Radiance and send it into the Void. Hollow Knight implicitly claims this struggle against and overcoming adversity is the best way to spend your time. And while I like Hollow Knight a lot, that wasn’t my favorite part of the game. My favorite part was exploring. Wondering what lies beyond the Lake of Ulm, crawling through the darkness of Deepnest, dashing through the sublime Crystal Peaks, waiting as the tram slowly took me from the Great Basin to who knows where.
The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild better aligns with my dream of exploration; it seems to believe the best way to spend our time is wondering. The story of BotW is sparse, largely ignored by the majority of the gameplay which has you wandering through the world and wondering what it has in store. Of course, I’m less interested in completing the story than most people I know (I’ve never actually finished the game). I’m notorious for quitting games right before the final boss. In Portal, I got to Glados and then quit without ever facing her. I made it to the Spirit (aka last) Temple of Ocarina of Time and then quit. I’ve never defeated the Radiance in Hollow Knight. Evidently, I don’t see finishing the story or proving my skills as being the best way to use my time. The joy of BotW is seeing what’s over the next ridge, wondering what I can see from that mountain, what lives in that valley, and how the next sunrise will look. One of the things I love most about BotW is the atmosphere. Not in the metaphorical sense of how the game looks, feels, and sounds (though I do like that), but the literal atmosphere of gasses between the earth and space. The light plays in the clouds and through the air, turning yellow, orange, and red as the sun wheels below the horizon. I love the lightning and the rain. Even standing still, the world of BotW is always changing, new, and beautiful.
Wondering takes trust. When we wonder, we trust things will be wonderful. Even when we don’t understand, and know we don’t understand the world, we trust it with our interest, time, and attention, hoping the world will be worthy of it. And the world is worthy of our interest in BotW and Hollow Knight. Every inch is lovingly crafted and cared for. That’s why I’m thankful for the benches in Hollow Knight. For a moment, the game gently asks us to enjoy the beauty of Hollownest.
To those who wonder, the world is wonderful. Each grain of sand, real physical sand, is full of sublime and sturdy beauty. Entrusting the world with wondering never disappoints. Learning this is part of why I play fewer video games, and even read fewer books, than I used to. I was talking with my younger brother about what I want from video games, and I told him about nuthatches. Nuthatches are small, broad birds who hop up and down trees looking for insects and nuts and calling out nasally ‘acks!’ They’re wonderful. Because they’re my favorites, I stop and look whenever I hear one. I noticed that they often travel in pairs. If you see one nuthatch, look for a second. Eventually, I wondered if they were a breeding pair or just two nuthatches working together. Male and female nuthatches look very similar. Males have black caps and females have gray caps, and that’s the only difference. But I was able to tell that the pairs were a male and a female, so I figured the pairs were breeding pairs. I looked it up after, and saw I was right! Nuthatches often breed for life and the pair will travel though their range together looking for food. I now firmly believe that their little calls are a way for them to focus on their work while keeping track of how their partner is doing, like me texting my wife from the office. I told my brother I wanted something like that in a video game and he said why when it’s so much better that I discovered that in real life.
Investing our wonder in the world is the best way I can think of to spend my time. Video games helped me understand that, and I’m grateful to them, even as I play them less. But I am interested in their potential as a medium for experience. It’s easy to read that struggling to achieve hard things is worth it and never act like it. Hollow Knight teaches its lesson by giving you challenges which you can struggle with, understand, and overcome. Likewise, it’s easy to read that the world is wonderful to the wonderers and live like it’s not. BotW can demonstrate that a hike is worth the view, that wondering leads to wonders. I’d love for books to be the best teachers, but they can’t compete with experience. It’s hard to trust, foundationally trust, someone else’s word without experiencing it yourself. Even things I thought would be obvious like mullets don’t look good must (apparently) be discovered generation after generation. Fortunately, you can see for yourself. I trust the beauty and wonder of the world is worthy of all of our attention, that those who seek will find, those who ask will receive, and to those who knock, wondering at the door, the door will be opened.
