Up and Down Three Times: The Hidden Helical Structure of Dark Souls 3
This essay presents a model for use in interpreting the world of Dark Souls 3. It is a hidden structure that is apparently relatively unknown even among lorekeepers, but is very useful in making sense of the surreal environments of this game and its mythologies. It was quite challenging to describe the structure without offering my own interpretations of the emergent symbolism! But the purpose here is to present the model on its own terms, and hopefully it is of use to whoever is interested in deepening their understanding of Souls lore and symbolism.
There are three forks in Dark Souls 3: three major crossroads where the player has the option to go higher or deeper. Each ascent occurs in two stages; each descent occurs in two stages. This structure is largely hidden by the game, since a normal journey through these lands is gradual, recursive, and non methodical. Some structural lines are dramatic and clear, while others are unassuming or obscured. A player may not even realize when she has set foot down one fork or the other. But once this structure is realized—through conceptually positioning the splits as the primary loci—the three primary zones of Dark Souls come into focus. The delineation of these three zones creates a dynamic tension that exposes a wealth of narrative and symbolic correspondences, and is thus extremely useful for critical reads of this game. Each of these zones is thematically and aesthetically cohesive. For this reason, I am terming these three zones as “realms” for use in this essay. So what are the three realms, diegetically? Two of them are fairly obvious. Without indulging in too much interpretation, it is clear that both the ascent and the descent from Irithyll fall under the umbrella of “Irithyll.” Likewise, when the path splits in Lothric, the following ascent and descent are both related to Lothric. So we can easily designate the “Irithyll Realm” and the “Lothric Realm.” On the other hand, the first split—in the Crucifixion Woods—is less obvious. Doesn’t the player technically leave the Road of Sacrifices when she enters the Catacombs or the Cathedral? Yes, but in this case all these areas are covered under the category of the terrestrial. Not to say these areas aren’t supernatural, but neither are they mythic or divine lands—in the Cathedral there are merely priests; in the Catacombs there are only the bones of history. Therefore the first act of Dark Souls can be said to constitute the “Mundane Realm.” [For a deeper exploration of this theory, check out this essay.] We will go more into the character of these 3 realms later; for now let us define our guiding axis.
Dark Souls 3 sustains a solid thesis about what it means to go up and down. This dichotomy is most succinctly defined in abstract terms as “culture/nature,” and in gameplay terms as “linear/open.” Easily extrapolated from these pairs of terms, we find by association all the other dichotomies upon which Dark Souls is built, like “order/chaos,” “spirit/matter,” “light/dark,” and all the typical brood of “yang/yin.” None of these contrasts suffice to describe the mysterious schism at the heart of the game, but in their accumulation the Dark Souls thesis gains greater definition. This occurs with every change of elevation. When the player travels upward, the game-objects tend toward organization: linear paths, well-defined gauntlets of enemies, holy knights, and the solid edges of architecture. Traveling downward, things tend toward disorder: animals, swamps, mysteries, mutations and decay—the churning wild world in all its vital processes.
For a game that is so much about the reconciliation of opposites, the poles on which Dark Souls anchors its tensions have to be kept ambiguous. Otherwise the world, no matter how high and low it reached, would feel flat as a coin. There is no such thing as a complete definition of the key opposites in the Souls narrative. Even so, the poles gain definition the more they are surveyed; and the fact that the game presents 3 overarching up-or-down contrasts ensures that the player observes this mysterious tension through multiple perspectives. In a sense, “Irithyll/Dungeon” describes the same abstract problem as “Cathedral/Carthus” but in concretizing the problem into their own sets of images, they produce distinct characterizations of the involved antipathies. What are those characterizations? That is subjective to the player. The goal of this essay is not to fully thread the needle through each set of areas, and present The Ultimate Meaning of the Dark Souls Coniunctio; as stated, a complete description of these opposites is impossible. And more importantly, lore is not a puzzle to be solved; it is to be studied and sampled and woven into a garment of interpretation that is right for you—that enhances your experience. For that reason, thank goodness these symbols are inexhaustible!
The real purpose of this essay is to demonstrate this 3-fork method of partitioning the world of Dark Souls. Players and lorekeepers tend to complain that the world of Lothric is not sensible—and it isn’t, in terms of physical geography! It is very awkward trying to reconcile the desert kingdom of Carthus with the Farron Swamp within a physicalist model. But if we understand this world as psychic territory, it begins to assemble itself quite elegantly. What follows are notes about each of the 3 forks of DS3; I hope that it is useful to your own explorations. Overview
In this flavorful diagram, we have a few more details to work with. The general shape of the minimal diagram is retained, but icons are added to indicate special features and transitions between areas. Right off the bat, DS3 obscures its 3-fork structure by initiating the player near the site of the third and final split—the highwall of Lothric.
The wings along the dotted line refer to the special method of transit via the batwing demons, which is a signal that the Ashen One is changing realms. This is important, because there is also a unique transition between the mundane realm and Irithyll: the crossing of the bridge. On the diagram, this is denoted by the “Magic Barrier Bridge” from Carthus to Irithyll. Both the batwing transition and the bridge transition require special items. Thus the three realms differentiate themselves through special gates.
There are a few items in the diagram’s legend. The Corvian Storytellers are noted because they also seem to denote important thresholds—see relevant areas for more info. Memorable stairs and ladders are noted for the reader’s discretion. The dragon symbol indicates locations relevant to Archdragon Peak and the Path of the Dragon questline. They are numbered according to the order they must be visited—note that this order begins in the 3rd realm, Lothric, and works backward.
Smouldering Lake and Archdragon Peak are noted for the sake of illustrating certain points, but are ambiguously considered “extra areas,” not a part of the core 3-forks model.
Other little idiosyncrasies are noted, like the Settlement basement, and the illusory wall at the end of the Consumed King’s Garden. Some of these illustrate points, and some are, again, left for the reader’s discretion.
Fork 1: Mundane Realm
This is the first bifurcation the player encounters, in the Crucifixion Woods. Where exactly is the split? Specifically it is just after the Halfway Fortress, or down the hill from there. It is the largest, widest, and least obvious point of divergence among the three. Looking out at the area does not give the player any indication that there are exactly two distinct paths from this juncture. In that sense, it is very much like being lost in the woods. Though the site of the split is labeled “Crucifixion Woods,” the territory can be expanded to include the entirety of the Road of Sacrifices, and even the Undead Settlement. The reason that it may all be lumped in together is because these areas—from the Undead Settlement to the termination points in Carthus and the Cathedral—cumulatively comprise the mundane world. This theory is much expanded in another essay, but suffice it so say that it is only these areas that represent life on earth. Within this one fork there is labor, industry, culture, history, and social infrastructure. The Undead Settlement itself is a closed loop, representing the totality of life for most people. But the ambitious may graduate to the upper echelons via the sage school or Cathedral; and the adventurous may venture into the dark heart of nature within the swamp, or uncover the anthropological treasures hidden below. Note the size of the respective areas. The upward path is a tiny area followed by an enormous area. The downward path is an enormous area followed by a small area. The first upward area, the “sage school,” is not only small, but is totally enveloped by the Crucifixion Woods, shown in the diagram by the green band. This also contributes to the obfuscation of the 3-fork model; players don’t typically think of the school as a separate area. Going by the bonfire menu too, this location is considered part of the Crucifixion Woods. It is differentiated visually, and in the player’s experience, as it is a conspicuous structure in the woods, and essentially has its own boss. The Crystal Sage is not “related” in any significant way to the Corvians or the Lycanthrope Hunters who populate the greater territory, but the characters who populate the school are clearly direct affiliates of the boss. More tellingly, the sage school pseudo-area provides a perfect complement and completion to the area in conceptual terms. The two downward areas, which are clearly differentiated, proceed through elaborating their subject (nature, the unconscious, chaos, yin). One goes from the dark of the swamp to the dark of the tomb; a confrontation with biology precedes a confrontation with death. Likewise, moving from the school to the cathedral is a clear procession of order: from a half-ruined stone school—structured but impoverished—to an opulent and sprawling feat of architecture. So that is the case for the little school as its own discreet area. You may also note that the green band begins to encroach onto one side of Farron Keep; this is meant to indicate the ecological interdependency of these two locations; the gradual “moistening” of the forest. All the oppositional principles of location design are present in this split: the strategic squads of enemies in the little school contrast against the scattered animals of the swamp; the meticulous metroidvania layout of the cathedral contrasts against the open sprawl of the swamp, and the arcane closed circuits of the catacombs.
Fork 2: Irithyll
This fork is found below the lowest point of the previous fork, so the expectation is that the entirety of Irithyll is “lower” than the mundane realm. But right away, the player emerges into Irithyll among mountain vistas, apparently thwarting this expectation. It feels much, much, higher than the first realm, but ought to be much, much lower--so which is it? The problem is compounded by the fact that the upper areas from this fork are even more apparently “higher” than the highest point of the mundane realm, the Cathedral; yet the lowest point of Irithyll, the Profaned Capital, appears to be “lower” than the lowest point of the mundane realm!
Perhaps the most helpful clue is the point of entry. The player arrives here through the Catacombs, signifying the threshold of death. A strange goblet is touched, a void is entered into, and from then on the game becomes far more fantastical. After the confrontation with death, a giant dog is met on the bardo-bridge. We might therefore imagine Irithyll as a double of the mundane realm. It’s also suggested that Irithyll is somehow “within” the mundane realm, since it is found at its lowest point.
The fact that Irithyll is simultaneously “higher” and “lower” than the mundane realm is appropriate for its operatic aesthetic, and its layout is also suitably dramatic! Compared to the other realms, Irithyll’s up-path is more straight up, and its down-path is more straight down. The elevation differentials are exaggerated here, which can be taken as a clue into the nature of this realm.
In the diagram a cloud-shaped circuit is given as indication that both areas of the upper path may fall under the same designation: Upper Irithyll may be seen as colonized Anor Londo; or Anor Londo may be seen as the crown of Upper Irithyll. Likewise, a box is drawn around the two lower areas to indicate their shared designation. At one end of the downward path, in the Profaned Capital, the player ends up back in the dungeon, which might imply that the entire downward path is within the Irithyll Dungeon. Could the emergence from the Dungeon into the Profaned Capital be an illusion? Or is the Dungeon merely an intimidating and superficial rendering of the mystery at the heart of the Profaned Capital? So there is a wonderful ambiguity on both counts, a boundary dissolution within both forks. Does Up1 contain Up2, or does Up2 contain Up1? Does Down1 contain Down2 or does Down2 contain Down1?
While the upper areas abide by the conventions of order and linearity, the lower areas of this realm playfully challenge the formula a bit. When the player first enters the dungeon, it is quite linear. A certain key must be found to open a certain door continuing on a certain path. This is not like the open field of Farron; it seems to be very sequential! But once a few doors are opened, and the player ventures forward, the area becomes full of recursions and shortcuts. By the time the player comes to the Profaned Capital, she finds a bizarrely disordered heap of an area. So in this sense it as if the Dungeon puts up a front of order; a deceit, hiding the chaos within.
This is not included in the diagram, but it is an interesting detail: the bonfire of the Profaned Capital contains a microfork of its own; another opportunity to go up or down. This microfork is consistent with the culture/nature divide, but almost in the sense of parody. Taking the “up” route one finds a half-hearted linear path through a maze of crystal lizards, and a run through a tiny swamp, up a little chapel, with a sorcerer on the roof. Here the path deadends, or it leads the player back to the bonfire, or back to the dungeon. It is like a little reconstruction of the concept of “upper worlds,” a little doll’s house. Were the player to take the “down” path from the bonfire, she comes upon what is essentially one enormous sculpture, with no expected path, no semblance of linearity, present only to be crawled over as the individual sees fit. This reminds us that the upper paths, in their deliberate architecture and sequence, are designed at the human scale. In contrast, the ruins of this lowest area seem to be haphazard, inconsiderate of the player’s intentions.
Fork 3: Lothric
In the final realm the fork is immediate. The area on the large map labeled “Lothric” is here labeled “Dancer Room” to be specific. When one climbs the short ladder from the Dancer, at once they are given the option to walk forward and up, or veer left and descend. Thus the site of the split in this case is just a small landing. Or one could consider the entire High Wall area the site of this split; personally I do not find that that inclusion contributes much in the way of symbolism—but it doesn’t disrupt anything either. That said, having to return to the opening act of the game creates an interesting circuit. From the Lothric realm (or its accessory, the High Wall) there is a descent, through the batwing demons, to the mundane realm. An apparent descent—or perhaps an interiorization—is then made from the mundane to arrive at the Irithyll realm. Thus, Lothric positions itself plainly as the highest of the three realms; most explicitly, high in relation to the entirety of the mundane.
So, how are ascents and descents expressed from this point? The basic formula is faithfully instantiated through the linear progressions of Lothric Castle, and the open field of the Consumed King’s Garden. The first thing to note, however, is that the Garden is tiny, with its boss door visible upon entry. It feels that the lower worlds—the concept of lowness and its significations—have been reduced. The subjugation of the lower by the higher is a frequent motif, and it is expressed here quite clearly. Contributing to this impression is the fact that the second lower area, the Untended Graves, is hidden behind illusory walls. In fact, neither of these areas are mandatory, which is a quality unique to this path among all forks in the game.
The Untended Graves mysteriously re-presents the tutorial area and hub area of the game, scaled to suit the player at this point. This second act of recursion (the first being the return to the Dancer room) underscores the concept of containment, endemic to the lower worlds. Carthus “contained” the entirety of the Irithyll realm, through the portal of death; the Profaned Capital contained a micro-fork of its own which expressed through metaphor the other splits of the game. The Untended Graves is in turn suggesting, through the image of the hubworld, that the entirety of all realms is contained here. Such a paradox is thematically suited to the final “low place” of Lothric, and may be an indication that once again, the player is in a realm simultaneously higher and lower; that the depths of the supposedly highest place somehow yet reach lower than the lowest points of the other realms.
Notes on the Corvian Storytellers While Corvians are fairly common throughout the three realms, there are only 5 locations to the find their storytellers, and these locations are quite meaningful. They are present at each mouth of the Road of Sacrifices: between the Road and the Settlement; between the Road and the Cathedral; between the Road and Carthus. They therefore surround the center of the mundane realm, creating a symbolic threshold. Keep in mind that this center they surrounded was once the site of Oolacile, the cradle of humanity, whose events catalyzed the entire story of the Dark Souls games. The final two places where storytellers are found are also significant: in the Grand Archives and within the Untended Graves; that is, at the final low place and final high place in the game. As discussed previously, it is reasonable to suppose that these are the very highest and very lowest points in the game as well, which would mean that the storytellers are also stationed at the very edges of reality. This is quite another threshold!
Path of the Dragon There is of course one area in the game that sits conspicuously outside of these realms, and likely outside their reality. That is the Archdragon Peak, which is neither up nor down from any location, but instead reached through an ambiguous cutscene transition, in which the Ashen One gazes out at the horizon.
Thus this area separates itself by its neutral response to the question of up or down, but it is difficult to say whether it is truly “apart” from the other realms. At the very least, the key attributes of Arch Dragon peak are distributed in the other realms in a highly significant constellation. First, there is the meditation gesture, which is found at the end of the Consumed King’s Garden, which is needed to reach the peak. Second, there is the point of access, which is on a cliff off the shoulder of Irithyll Dungeon. Thirdly, there is the final confrontation with Hawkwood at the end of Farron Keep.
Do you notice the parallel between these places? These are the first areas of descent of each of the three realms! Farron Keep, Irithyll Dungeon, King’s Garden; let’s call them DC1, DC2, and DC3. To become a dragon and to therefore finish Archdragon Peak—in terms of narrative and in terms of completionism—one must traverse the realms in the opposite order. The key is found at DC3, the door is reached at DC2, and then the Peak itself is found. Once the Ashen One reaches the end of the peak, she obtains a stone which propels Hawkwood’s quest forward, and he is then slain there at the end of Farron Keep, where the final stone is retrieved. We can therefore say that the “treasure” is found at DC1. Another detail contributes to the sense of treasure: the presence of Havel’s armor, which is also found at Farron Keep after visiting the Peak.
The fact that each step of the dragon quest is found in the first leg of each descending area is quite a mystery. To be specific, each step is performed very near the transition points between the parts of each descent. The key/gesture is found where the Garden leads into the Graves; the door/transition is found where the Dungeon begins to dissolve into the Capital; the treasure/conclusion is found where Farron opens into the Catacombs.
The symbolism of this arrangement merits far more investigation. It is particularly intriguing that the player should have to wind through the game “backwards,” from the final realm to the first, in order to produce the full result of the dragon questline. If this is truly the “path of the dragon,” what does it mean for a dragon to proceed through the world in this way?
The Parabola Traversing the lands of Lothric forces the player to go up and down many times. There are descents within the ascents and vice-versa. Of course each player’s route is different, and the amount of time spent on any given climb or slide will vary. Like any game, the more a player settles into their playstyle and shapes the game experience by their choices, the more the game becomes a psychological mirror. Even though this is a phenomenon inherent in the medium of videogames, Dark Souls III generously widens this capacity through the consistency of its primary philosophical axis, and through the mythologically fertile forms which emerge therefrom. This 3-fork model is one among many structures quietly dwelling within the game, supporting and cohering the world, allowing players to constellate their own stories within its matrix.