There was a time when asking for help was just… what you did. You were stuck in a game, someone in the room had already beaten that level, and within ten minutes the problem was solved and you were back to eating cereal on the floor. Simple.
That was the pre-YouTube era of gaming. No guides, no walkthroughs, no reddit threads titled "HOW DO I BEAT THIS BOSS I WANT TO DIE." Just you, your mates, and whoever was lucky enough to have an older sibling who'd already suffered through it. Asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness — it was just practical.
Fast forward to today, and something has shifted. Now we have access to every answer imaginable, yet asking for help — in games or in life — has quietly become harder. There's rejection to worry about. Judgment. The terrifying possibility of looking like you don't have it all figured out. Which is exactly where Dark Souls III comes in.
The Game That Makes Grown Adults Cry
For the uninitiated: the Souls series began in 2009 with Demon's Souls — an action RPG that introduced the world to the unique combination of depression, rage, and inexplicable satisfaction. Dark Souls III is the third and final chapter of the trilogy, and it is, to put it gently, not a game that holds your hand.
The premise: the Age of Fire is dying, a curse is raising the dead, you need to stop it. Easy. Except the first enemy will probably kill you. Then the second. Then a random hole in the ground you didn't notice. Then the first boss — roughly fifteen times.
But here's what I love about it: the game lets you summon help. From an NPC. From another player online. From a giant, friendly undead man who will walk beside you and absolutely destroy anything in your path. And the game never once suggests this makes you less of a player.
"A win is a win, after all."
So Why Is Asking for Help So Hard?
Here's the uncomfortable truth: asking for help requires vulnerability. Western culture has done an excellent job of framing independence as a virtue and needing others as a weakness. We've quietly absorbed the idea that struggling alone is noble. The research says otherwise. And so does Dark Souls.
You get a new perspective. When someone more experienced joins your game, they don't just deal damage — they show you angles you hadn't considered. That's not cheating. That's learning.
You protect your mental health. There's a specific circle of gaming hell reserved for being stuck on the first boss for five hours. Recognising that moment and asking for help isn't weakness — it's self-preservation. Watching that boss crumble to dust is no less satisfying because someone helped you get there.
You make someone else feel good. People genuinely want to help — they just can't if they don't know you need it. Research consistently shows that helping others generates positive feelings in the helper. It's a win on both sides.
When a game gets really tough, what do you actually do?
The takeaway: Despite how much we love stories about people who did it alone, the majority of real help only happens after someone asks for it. Not because people don't want to help — but because they can't help if they don't know you need it.
A Final Word to the Solo Players
Play the Souls series. Die many times. Learn from it. Ask for help when you need it. And somewhere along the way, pay it forward — because one day, some lost and frustrated player is going to see your summon sign on the ground, and you'll get to be the friendly sword-wielding maniac who turns their afternoon around. That sounds pretty good to me.
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