(also, I’ve not cleared the Cathedral Ward yet, so no spoilers please)
Bloodborne is a fantastic game. This is undeniable. It’s graphically beautiful, artistically dark and creepy, the combat is fluid, the difficulty insanely high but not unfairly so, and it manages to create a powerful, lore-driven world without any characters or narrative advancements to speak of (at least in the early game). But by far its greatest feature is the kirkhammer: a weapon that is a hammer and a sword at the same time.
A key mechanic of the game is transforming your main weapon; in your right hand is this main weapon, and it can be wielded as a one-handed tool, leaving the left hand free for all manner of guns, torches and shields, or as a two-handed behemoth. I was using the hunter’s axe previously, a weapon that unimaginatively transforms from a small axe to a large axe, and while I appreciated the different fighting styles these forms offered, I wasn’t blown away by the creativity. But then I found the kirkhammer; in its two-handed form, this is a mighty hammer, the sort that makes Thor’s look like a kid’s plastic my-first-toolkit hammer, that is swung slowly, but with such oomph that it can level small mountains with a single blow. But when it transforms, the head is holstered on your back, and a thin sword is drawn from its handle, leaving you with a sword. This weapon is, therefore, a sword and a hammer. At once.
I don’t think you understand what I’m getting at here, which is indicative of both my failings as a writer, as the extravagant magnificence of this weapon. You can stab things. Or smush them. You can hit with lots of attacks, or one dirty great one. You could hold and release B to spin in a circle and cut down all the grass around you for rupees, or you could do some DIY. With the same tool.
The upshot of all this is that I’ve stumbled across the most clunkily-worded, needlessly capitalised, specifically-referenced threat in the world; and it’s a bloody great feeling.