What FromSoftware Knows About Resilience
Attempt forty-something against the Nameless King. I wasn't getting better - I was just running out of wrong approaches. Years later, I realized that wasn't just a video game fight. That's where I learned the operating system for overcoming hard things.
Attempt forty-something against the Nameless King in Dark Souls 3. I've stopped counting deaths.
The community's advice for this boss is what it is for every boss: "git gud." Extremely helpful. Thanks, Reddit.
This time I'm trying: dodge left on the lightning strike, don't get greedy after his combo, stay close in phase two. I don't know if it will work. I know the last thirty-nine strategies didn't.
The adjustments hold. The boss falls. Relief, not triumph. I'm not good. I just ran out of wrong ways to do it.
Years later, I can see what actually happened there. That wasn't just a video game fight. That was where I learned the operating system for overcoming hard things. "Git gud" turned out to be accidentally correct, just not in the way the community meant it.
The mechanism is simple. Failure becomes data. Each death removes one wrong approach. Pattern recognition builds through iteration. You notice when the boss punishes early dodges. You see the opening after his combo. The information accumulates until the pattern becomes visible and the obstacle becomes surmountable.
It's not about getting better in some abstract sense. It's about running out of ways to fail.
This only works if the difficulty stays fair. FromSoftware nails this. Their bosses punish mistakes but telegraph attacks. Hitboxes make sense. The challenge comes from execution, not randomness. Every death feels like your fault, not the game's. That fairness keeps you iterating instead of quitting.
What I didn't realize then: this operating system shows up everywhere. Losing thirty kilograms. Going from couch to marathon. Debugging systems that fail in ways you don't understand yet.
Same process. Fail enough times and eventually you run out of wrong approaches.
Turns out, researchers tested this exact mechanism in the hardest possible context: people with clinical depression. A 2018 study had clinically depressed individuals play action video games for six weeks with modest results. Researchers analyzing the study pointed out why: the specific game mechanics matter. The study used a timing-focused game, but games requiring precise execution and pattern recognition work better for targeting rumination and attentional control. FromSoftware games aren't just difficult - they're difficult in a specific way that forces pattern recognition and iteration. Broader systematic reviews confirm that video game interventions can reduce symptoms of depression and anxiety when the mechanics align properly. It's not about difficulty for difficulty's sake. It's about calibrated challenge with clear feedback loops.
For people who build things professionally, this shows up constantly. Learning a new tech stack means trying approaches that don't work, gathering information from each failure, adjusting until something clicks. Debugging production issues follows the same pattern. Leading teams through uncertain periods requires the same muscle.
The stakes get real when you're building something that matters. Launching side projects. Starting companies. I joined Nelisa early and watched it evolve through rough patches and eventually through acquisition. Those situations don't come with save points or respawn. The pressure is real. The failures are expensive. But the operating system is the same. Each setback removes one wrong approach. Pattern recognition builds. Eventually you see the path forward.
The difference between gaming and real stakes is just the cost of iteration. Dying to Malenia fifty times costs nothing but time and your sanity. But the pattern recognition skill you build transfers directly to contexts where failure is expensive.
That's what makes difficult games valuable beyond entertainment. Elden Ring isn't just a wonderful game. It's a training ground for persistence under pressure. Every boss fight is practice for the operating system you'll need when facing hard problems that actually matter. The stakes are fake but the skill development is real.
And yes, Malenia is optional. But we all fought her anyway because at some point you stop playing to win and start playing to prove you can. Which might say something about human psychology that FromSoftware understands better than most.
Clear feedback and fair difficulty - that's the whole engine. That's harder to find in professional contexts. Business problems often have unclear feedback loops. Technical challenges sometimes fail for reasons outside your control.
But in a well-designed boss fight, you know exactly why you died and what to adjust next time. That clarity accelerates the learning. No meetings about why you failed. No blame shifting. No "let's circle back on this." Just: you rolled too early, try again.
The gaming community argues endlessly about using summons or spirit ashes in Elden Ring. Some call it cheating. They're missing the point. The lesson isn't about artificial difficulty or proving toughness. It's about building the persistence muscle in a safe environment. Whether you use every tool the game gives you or fight naked with a club, you're still training the same operating system.
The community might judge your methods but the skill transfers either way. And honestly, if you beat Malenia with summons, you still beat Malenia. The only person who needs to be impressed is you.
This is how resilience actually builds. Not through motivation or willpower. Not through inspirational quotes or mental toughness speeches. Through repeated attempts under fair difficulty. Through watching your approach fail, adjusting one variable, and trying again. Through sticking with uncertainty long enough to run out of wrong approaches.
The Nameless King taught me that. So did Malenia. So did every hard thing I've tackled since.
The medium changes. The operating system stays the same. Git gud, as it turns out, was the right answer all along. It just takes forty attempts to understand what it means.
I write monthly about the operating systems that work across domains - software, leadership, and the messy work of building things that matter.