I was kidnapped in Act 1 of Hollow Knight: Silksong, and I never thought Team Cherry would borrow Bloodborne's nastiest trick

Hollow Knight: Silksong is an evil game filled and covered with distractingly wonderful things. Cruelty is the default, but only occasionally does the mask well and truly fall to reveal the exacting monster within. Grueling boss runbacks, devilish platforming gauntlets, and some downright villainous attack animations make clear just how deeply developer Team Cherry has descended into the void. But in all my hours of silky songs, nothing else compares to a brilliant, disempowering twist that completely derails the game.

That being said, I'm about to spoil the heck out of a fantastic moment in Silksong, so if you don't want to hear that, please open the Sherma song remix and put it on loop at max volume. I'm also going to spoil a startlingly similar sequence in Bloodborne, but if you haven't played that game by now, frankly that's just on you. If anything, you owe me for giving you another reason to play Bloodborne.

Jailbreak

Silksong's Pharloom kingdom is home to a prison called The Slab. Just as Hornet is brought to Pharloom against her will in a gilded cage, it's possible to be kidnapped by a cage-wielding enemy in the middle of Act 1 – specifically, for you kidnap enthusiasts, in the eastern Deep Docks or Greymoor – and forcibly sent to The Slab. This is what happened to me, but none of my friends have experienced this kidnapping, as it's apparently possible to avoid this sequence entirely and reach The Slab normally in Act 2.

Any game developer willing to create important events and then allow players to totally miss them, putting organic exploration and unique experiences above the instinct to maximize visibility and signposting, has my respect. But it's almost a shame here – almost – because The Slab kidnapping has been one of the best and most memorable sections of my Silksong playthrough.

It manages the exact same trick that Bloodborne pulled off with the aptly named Kidnapper enemies that stuff you in a sack and drop you in the Yahar'gul jail if they manage to kill you. (If I had a nickel for every time a famously difficult video game literally kidnapped me, and so on.) Both games deliberately interrupt the player's plans and transport them to an openly hostile area that they have to escape in order to return to the main game. After several hours of eating dirt in these games, it feels like their creators finally abandon all subtlety and just grab you by the shoulders to say, "You're going to do this now, and you're going to like it."

Silksong is actually more vicious. When you wake up in The Slab, all of your gear, even your red cloak, is gone. Without your needle or ranged weapons, you're forced to punch and kick your way through the jail's guards and inhabitants, Hornet's spindly limbs flailing cutely in the dark and dealing about as much damage as harsh language. At this point in the game – assuming you were kidnapped in Act 1 – you may already feel weak given how quickly the difficulty curve ramps up. Guess what, bucko. Now it takes like eight hits to beat even wimpy-looking enemies, and your moveset is gutted.

Never again

Stealth and horror games are the kings of disempowerment, and a kernel of that is channeled here. Suddenly, combat is actively discouraged, or at least foolhardy. If you can run or jump by enemies in The Slab, you should. Your health is precious and limited, and your goal of reobtaining your gear, at one point dangled like a treat before a dog by an enemy with your cloak, takes priority. You are the weakest you've ever been, and you cannot return to your journey until you deal with this. There's friction in game design, and then there's sandpaper to the knuckles. (Our Silksong The Slab walkthrough can help, if you need it.)

This taunting bit with your cloak, in particular, builds a type of emotional connection that few games manage. In that moment, you and Hornet have the same thought: I want my stuff back. This has already happened to Hornet once; she was brought to Pharloom caged and weakened, left a shadow of her former strength. She is not gonna put up with it again. Recovering who and what she was is a guiding theme for Hornet's character in many ways, and The Slab is a major milestone here. In a world that tries to take from her from the onset, Hornet finds ways to give back, repaying kindness and attacks in kind.

In a stroke of design genius, The Slab is also a fun compression of the classic Metroid premise of getting your stuff back. It's a game within a game. What is a Metroidvania if not a series of keys and doors furnished with combat and platforming challenges? The Slab is all of that in a microcosm. A pocket Metroidvania. You start from nothing – nothingness beyond the limits of the very first minutes of the game. And as you work through it, the reveal and image of Hornet's cloak-less form further grounds her in the world. This is what she is. She is not her iconic cloak or her flashy silk powers; she is a slender being of black and bone.

Then comes the second twist: you're going to need a few keys to escape The Slab, and you have to engage with combat, totally unarmed, to get them. It's not an option anymore. But you do, finally, get your stuff back. It's a moment of triumph and rare, purposeful brutality. Hornet smashes through a metal grate, executes a bug by snapping its neck, and rips her gear from its body, fury absolutely dripping off her. Nobody stops to tell you Hornet is pissed; you can see it.

Her equipment restored, she tears through the entire jail crew and claims the key she needs to escape this place once and for all. And then it hits: you're just here now, a far-flung corner of the map that's leagues from where you were kidnapped. The sheer size of the game world starts to come into focus.

In one small and missable section, Silksong constructs and conveys so much about its world, its main character, and the people working against her. Making it would have taken unique combat balancing, special Hornet models and animations that will never be used again, and – most importantly – trust in players, that they might find and put up with or even enjoy this interruption, as I did. It isn't an especially grand moment, but The Slab was the point where Silksong really got me.

Elsewhere, Oscar writes: I've played 100s of hours of Soulslikes, and I think Hollow Knight Silksong is harder than Elden Ring – but what makes games difficult anyway?