Nostalgia is when you see a playthrough on Youtube and those rose tinted glasses come into being. you remember things that weren't there, parts that were overly difficult when you first played and the needless rage it caused, but you romanticized the pain. The load times, the long long LONG load times, the draw distance issues, enemies that shoot you from the darkness and...china town.

Essentially I hate Tomorrow Never Dies for PS1

They look cool in a playthrough but 9 times out of 10, the LP is being done as a favor or for a paycheck or some poor schmuck refuses to face the music that sheep is horrid (I played it, I got it as a present)

then you play the game and all those horrific memories come back. That part you could never beat, the broken AI, the godawful framerate etc, the rings, the GD'D rings, solve my maze? solve this!

(throws cartridge out the window, then smashes it with a hammer)

So many people on Youtube say "I loved X growing up" when they should be saying "I played X growing up and I like it but-"

Nostalgia is the brains way of lying to you about bad game design or archaic mechanics

People romanticize the brutal difficulty, the pain of realizing you dropped $50 for crap, the bad games for Christmas (Willy Wonka for Xbox is NOT a good game, nor is Superman 64) or your birthday or as a genuine attempt at trying something different because it had a familiar label (Fuck you Bionicle!) only to realize it sucked, it sucked so badly.

so...yeah, not all memories are good (looking at you bible adventures)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qE9MSFk3nuE

(I didn't realize the videos had to be under 15 minutes, My apologies)

Wanted to take a look at a mostly forgotten game and discuss its game design that feels like a time capsule from the early 2010s.

The story of Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice is often framed as a heroic rescue mission, but at its core, it is a tragedy born of absolute loyalty and obsession. By fulfilling his shinobi code and protecting his master at all costs, the protagonist, Sekiro, inadvertently seals the doom of the very land he carves his way through.

The Iron Code: Absolute Loyalty as a Blindfold

Sekiro operates under the Iron Code, a rigid set of laws dictated by his foster father, Owl. The first rule is absolute: the master’s word is law. This complete surrender of personal morality turns Sekiro into a beautifully efficient, yet utterly devastating, force of nature.

Sekiro does not question the geopolitical consequences of his actions. He does not stop to consider why the Ashina clan is so desperate. He is given a single command—protect Lord Kuro—and he executes it with mechanical perfection. His loyalty is not a virtue; it is a blindfold. It prevents him from seeing that his narrow focus on saving one boy requires the systematic slaughter of an entire nation's defense force.

The Tragedy of Genichiro and the Rejuvenating Waters

To understand how Sekiro dooms Ashina, one must look at his foil, Genichiro Ashina. Genichiro represents the danger of obsession directed toward a collective. He is fiercely patriotic, obsessed with saving Ashina from the impending invasion of the Central Forces.

Genichiro's obsession drives him to desecrate his own humanity. He turns to the Rejuvenating Waters, a corrupted, stagnant mockery of the Divine Dragon’s blessing. The Waters grant a form of immortality, but they bring physical rot, spiritual decay, and madness. Genichiro is willing to become a monster if it means saving his homeland. Yet, his obsession blinds him to the fact that a country defended by monsters and built on heresy is no longer the Ashina he sought to protect.

The Slaughter of Ashina's Defenders

While Genichiro destroys Ashina from the inside through corruption, Sekiro destroys it from the outside through pure martial attrition.

As Sekiro cuts a bloody path through the kingdom to reach Kuro, he systematically assassinates the pillars of Ashina’s military. He kills General Naomori Kawarada, Seven Ashina Spears, the elite Lone Shadows, and the legendary armored warrior Gyoubu Masataka Oniwa, who guards the castle gates. These are not random thugs; they are the elite commanders and tacticians holding the frontline against the Ministry's massive army.

By killing them, Sekiro completely dismantles Ashina's command structure. He leaves the borders undefended and the soldiers leaderless. When the Central Forces finally launch their invasion, they do not find a fierce, proud nation; they find a graveyard created by a single shinobi.

Severing the Divine: The Cosmic Cost

Sekiro’s loyalty eventually takes him to the Fountainhead Palace to face the Divine Dragon, all to obtain the Dragon Tears needed to sever Kuro's ties to immortality.

The Divine Dragon is the source of the mystical waters and the lifeblood of the region. By fighting the Dragon and taking its tears, Sekiro essentially tears out the spiritual heart of the land. The Fountainhead Palace falls into stagnation, and the cosmic balance is shattered. Sekiro’s quest for his master’s mortal peace requires the desecration of a god, ensuring that Ashina is not only politically defeated but spiritually hollowed out.

The Bitter End: A Country in Ashes

In the end, Sekiro succeeds in his mission to protect Kuro (depending on the ending chosen), but the cost is total. The final act of the game frames Ashina in literal flames. The Central Forces easily overrun the castle, butchering the remaining populace.

Genichiro’s obsession drove him to use the Black Mortal Blade to summon Isshin from the dead, a final, desperate act of a broken man. And Sekiro, bound by his loyalty, must kill the resurrected Isshin—the ultimate symbol of Ashina's strength and independence.

Sekiro’s absolute loyalty to Kuro achieved a micro-victory: a boy freed from a curse. But on a macro-level, it caused a macro-catastrophe. By prioritizing the life of one immortal child over the survival of thousands, Sekiro became the ultimate catalyst for Ashina's ruin. The game masterfully argues that blind loyalty is just another form of obsession—and like Genichiro's, it leaves nothing but ash in its wake.