The Adventures Of Accessing The Dark Souls II Beta


You know what I love more than anything in the entire world? Even more so than Black Forest cake and Doge memes? Waking up earlier than I have to. There is no greater feeling on earth than wryly shaking a finger at your alarm and saying, “looks like I beat you today, you old ruffigan!” (Note: I, to this day, do not know what a ruffigan actually is). Unfortunately, my experience with the Dark Souls II beta was to forever change my feelings towards pre-necessary morning consciousness.

At 5:55, I awoke, yelled incoherently for no particular reason, and went to turn on my PS3. Despite it being fairly cold, I was nowhere near ready to delve into a commitment to pants or any other clothing. There’s a rhyme for it:

Before 9

Clothes are optional

Of course it’s not a rhyming poem, you mouth-breathing Neanderthals. Seriously, get some culture in you. Not all poems rhyme, especially if you just made them up. Which I haven’t.


So we didn’t get to play any of this.

Anyway, I selected the Dark Souls II beta, and attempting to get into the game, I was met with a message that said “dcsdfj sadfsnfjkgkogb ajefkojgrnkgr”. I went to the bathroom and washed my face, and when I came back the error message said “jndfjsrfji wrong version sign in wfjirgfbn”. Entering the bathroom again, I snorted a gram of coke and I finally saw what the message was really saying “Screw you”. Now, I wasn’t prepared to deal with this in the morning while I had no pants on and was spinning out on Colombian marching powder, so I went to the highest authority source on gaming and connection issues, Google. After a good thirty seconds of searching for an answer, I allowed myself to look at a few Doge memes and say “Wow” to myself over and over for around fifteen minutes.

It was then I stumbled across a FAQ regarding the Dark Souls II beta, and one of the suggestions was “is your internet connected?”. I scoffed initially, because, HOW AM I ON GOOGLE IF IT’S NOT CONNECTED MR. SMARTY PANTS!? Then I checked what my Wi-Fi was connected to, and I realised I was still connected to my neighbours signal, because why on earth would I want to download 50GB of tentacle porn with my own connection? I’m not a sucker. My personal signal, however, was nowhere to be seen. Looking through other suggestions I saw the usual “have you checked your PS3 is on” and “turn it on and off again”, before coming to the only useful tip they’d supplied thus far:

“Is there a family of possums ruining your internet connection?”

While I don’t live in the sticks, like I some awful place completely removed from humanity and civilisation, say, somewhere like Mt. Annan, I do live close enough to a collection of trees (is that what a bush is? Or a forest? I don’t know, I failed physics) for this to be a real possibility. Already on the top floor, and my router being on the roof to receive the strongest possible signal, I decided to scope it out. On the verandah I learnt that 40 degree days don’t necessarily translate to warm mornings. Back in Serbia, they call this kind of temperature “really cold”. My chest hair was doing its best to keep me warm, but having recently waxed my back, there was a large portion of my huge, muscular frame being exposed to the elements. Still, I wasn’t going to do anything crazy like get a shirt or shorts or boxers. A man has his pride.

I clambered on the roof like an appropriate metaphor involving an animal that can climb well. There was my router, and around it, a family of possums playing with it. As I recall, possums had two weaknesses: fruit, and being kicked really hard in the face. Lacking any apples or mango or the like, I knew that my only chance would be to kick them all really, really hard in the face. But I was not without honour, and I decided to give them a chance.

“Possums! Leave that router yonder alone, and no harm will come to thee, stay, and my wrath will visit your faces with kicks that are hard, verily hard.”

In unison, the possums looked at me with big, dumb eyes that seemed to say “does he have fruit?”. One of the possums took a few tentative steps towards me, cocked its head from side to side… and then pulled out a knife from somewhere.

“Oh SHIT!” I yelled as the other possums followed suit with a variety of armaments. Swords, maces, machetes, I think one of them had a pair of nun-chucks, and I have to say props to that little hairy guy, because they aren’t easy to handle. Seriously, I tried to learn how to use them for a month, and I beat the shit out myself accidentally on more than one occasion. Maybe he had lessons or something? Who the hell would teach a possum how to use nun-chucks?

They came towards me like an ankle high wave that didn’t break or recede, so maybe more like a stream or a bucket of water that’s been thrown at your shoes to ruin them. I had two options available: 1. Run away or 2. Use my special Beargod powers.


I bellowed, and went through an anime style transformation not too dissimilar from the start of Sailor Moon. You know what I’m talking about 90’s kids, “Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight, never running from a real fight, she is the one named Sailor Moon!” Imagine that, right, but instead of a teenage, sailor outfitted blonde girl, a completely naked, hairy, balding guy with bushy eyebrows and the concentrated look of a psychotic gorilla.

The possum with the knife was first to reach me, and as I brought my leg back to kick him in the face with the Strength of Ten Bears and the swiftness of a ninja powered by Gatorade (Gatorade, great tasting, refreshing – proud sponsor of Dusty Cartridge!*) he poked my big toe with the knife.

It hurt so much.

“Ahhhhhh!” I cried out in pain like a very manly man and not at all like a girl, “that hurt so much!”.

The possums slowed their assault as I limped in small circles and uttering promises of vengeance in a show of dominance unmatched by even the most alpha of alphas.

“You guys…(sob)…are so mean and and and and I don’t even (owowowow) know why (blows nose on arm, gets caught in arm hair and immediately freezes there) you would be so mean to me…”


Or any of this either.

Tears of fury, pretty sure it was fury, had been pouring down my face, and such was their power the possums began to chitter and run away. Some might say it was laughter, but I say that while it almost definitely was, I hope it wasn’t.

My router now free from possum molestation, and after a heated argument with my neighbour about what time it was, and how much noise I was making, and accusations made against me both concerning the downloading of tentacle porn and the most appropriate time was to wear pants, I made my way down and back into my room, and turned on my PS3. Finally connected to the internet, I navigated to the Dark Souls II beta, but was once again met with the error message “Screw you”.

I will update when I get some hands-on with the Dark Souls II beta.

*Not really, please don’t sue us.

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