When I reviewed Hollow Knight, I made it clear that the game is not for everyone. The best metroidvania of all time has to be somewhat inscrutable to win such a title from the genre's most dedicated fans because, put plainly - they love that shit.

Another major hurdle is the game's boss fights. While a whole lot of them are optional in terms of progressing through the world, many players - myself included - will probably do their best to overcome bosses before they end their session. This, combined with the reality of having to go back to the area of the boss fight to reclaim your lost geo by defeating your shade, means that most Hollow Knight players will attempt to finish the fights they've started.

But these suckers are hard. From the Mantis Lords to the Soul Tyrant, I butted my head up against near misses and crushing defeats for hours on end. There was a certain level of frustration when I would die once I had gotten farther than ever before or, say, when I kept failing at the same juncture in a battle over and over again. (Soul Tyrant's phase two had me almost pulling my hair out.) But somehow the prevailing feeling I had during my many failed attempts was one of eagerness. Eagerness to learn the bosses' rhythms that much better. Eagerness to prove what I'd learned and progress to a battle's late stages. Eagerness to try and try again. To improve. To overcome.

It has been so long since I've felt such a desire to compete. As I wrote in my essay about the serenity of INSIDE, my experience playing elite ultimate frisbee often gives me anxiety. While I do find joy in the sport and its community, certain moments fill me with intense pangs of self-doubt that are not at all pleasurable.

My motto when I play ultimate is to "play with courage, not fear." To do so, I must release all of my self-conscious feelings and premonitions of failure, relinquishing them to the presence of the moment. I play my best, most courageous game when I am not thinking. When I can put my brain in the back seat and let muscle memory and instinct take over. Stringing these kinds of moments together is how I find my flow in ultimate. But sometimes, admittedly, this flow state is hard to tap into. It's fickle. It comes and goes and sometimes leaves me high and dry when I fail to feel inspired in the heat of a big game, fading from the moment.

However, the flow courses through me with ease while fighting a Hollow Knight boss. I feel dialed in and courageous. I feel the rhythm of my opponent. Their dives and dashes. The pace of their projectiles. Even the slight variations in the sounds they make when they pull different moves out of their often devastating bag of tricks. In this way, once I've fought the boss enough times to learn their movesets, each encounter becomes a dance. Elegant and deadly.

In sports, there is nothing more beautiful than two evenly matched opponents at the top of their game going toe to toe, fighting for each and every inch. Attack, counterattack, eventual triumph. It's the arc of all classic games, all legendary good versus evil stories. Hollow Knight's impeccable boss design allows players to put themselves at the center of an epic struggle. To learn the intimacy that comes along with a game decided by a matter of inches. To develop respect for worthy opponents, even as you're at one another's throats. No wonder the charm you receive from the Mantis Lords after earning their reverence in battle is called the Mark of Pride. Feeling proud after vanquishing a boss in this game is to have felt the flow course through you. To have surrendered to its rhythm. To have basked in its tremendous light.

And bask I do. My partner has never heard such raucous reactions out of me while playing a video game. After finally overcoming a once seemingly insurmountable boss fight, I'll stand up and woop for joy. She'll proceed to turn around in her office chair and dap me up with feigned bro-yness. "Let's go bro! You freaking did it, son! Yeah!" Heck, even a teetotaler like me feels like he's earned a beer after hours of trying to take down a leviathan.

Hollow Knight*'s boss fights rekindled my joy for competition and reminded me why I play. Whether it's sports or video games, I play to find my flow. My eagerness to learn and improve allows me to bet on myself. And, when I'm in the zone - say, after my zillionth attempt to take down Nightmare King Grimm - there's no one I'd rather bet on.