A 31% Off Dive into Hallownest: My Beetle-Shell-Shaking Adventure That Still Haunts Me

I still remember the day, sometime way back in 2023, when Amazon's algorithm decided my fate. There it was – Hollow Knight for the PS4, slashed by 31%, dropping from $33.80 to a dangerously tempting $23.13. I hesitated, thumb hovering over the buy button, thinking "It's just another indie Metroidvania, how deep can it possibly be?" Boy, was I in for a century-long nap of bug-sized regrets… and the most mesmerising gaming experience of my life. That measly twenty-three dollars and change turned out to be the best accidental investment I’ve ever made, and my controller still remembers the salty sweat of a thousand deaths.

Now, three years later in 2026, with Silksong finally weaving its own webs into our lives, I can’t help but look back at the original masterpiece and wonder how a tiny team from South Australia managed to build an entire subterranean civilization inside my head. Team Cherry – a studio so small they probably held meetings in a mushroom cave – crafted not just a game, but a world that breathes, mourns, and occasionally stabs you with a needle. Their first outing, Hollow Knight, and the long-awaited sequel are proof that you don’t need a thousand employees to break a player’s heart and then rebuild it with gorgeous, melancholic architecture.

Let’s talk about stepping into Hallownest for the first time. You’re a nameless little warrior, a fork-wielding ghost in a shell, dropped into Dirtmouth’s forlorn quiet. The ground beneath your feet is hard and unforgiving, and the only guide you have is a elderly bug mumbling about how the kingdom below has gone… wrong. I remember wandering into the Forgotten Crossroads, and gosh, the walls themselves seemed to whisper old secrets. Every corridor felt like it was judging my clumsy jumps. The game doesn’t hold your hand – it hands you a broken compass, pats your head with a mournful violin note, and whispers, “Figure it out, kid.” And man, did I figure it out. Or rather, I got lost. Gloriously, maddeningly lost.

The map system is a perfect example of tough love. Instead of a friendly minimap, you have to find Cornifer, a humming cartographer who hides in the deepest nooks, and buy his scribbles. Until then, you’re just wandering, drawing your own mental map from the tears and broken nail hits. At first I hated it. I’d grumble at my TV, “How am I supposed to know where to go?!” But then it clicked – the confusion was the path. Getting lost was my character’s rite of passage, and slowly, the kingdom opened up like a shy blossom.

And the inhabitants of this ruined kingdom! What a delightfully creepy bunch. The first time I met Hornet, she didn’t just defeat me; she gave my carapace a masterclass in humility. “SHAW!” – that battle cry is permanently etched into my eardrums. Over 140 enemies and 30 epic bosses, each one a character in its own right. The Mantis Lords didn’t just attack; they invited me to a deadly dance, bowing before skewering me. Defeating them felt like earning a bloody diploma. There’s a hidden depth, too, unlocked by the Dream Nail, which lets you peek into the minds of bugs and unearth a soul-crushing lore of love, sacrifice, and a king who made a terrible mistake. I’m telling ya, no game has made me feel so proud of defeating a giant dung beetle while simultaneously making me want to hug a weeping flower.

Powers and skills come slowly, each one a gift that unlocks parts of the map previously taunting you from just out of reach. The Mothwing Cloak turns your awkward plod into a sharp dash; the Mantis Claw lets you cling to walls and gives verticality a whole new terrifying meaning. By the time I got the Monarch Wings double jump, I felt like the king of all bugs, only to be immediately slain by a flying soul-twister in a forgotten tower. The growth isn’t just in health or nail upgrades – it’s in you, the player, learning the rhythm of chaos. That’s the Metroidvania magic at its purest, and Team Cherry bottled it with a dash of nightmare fuel.

I can’t skip the music. Christopher Larkin’s score is a character on its own. Dirtmouth’s theme is a sigh of a violin that makes you want to sit there forever. Greenpath’s strings and flutes feel like nature itself is welcoming you with a tentative, leafy hug – I swear the plants waved at me. And the City of Tears, oh boy, the rain outside the window and the soft piano inside… that place is a frozen moment of tragedy, and I wept with it. The visual style, all hand-drawn and hauntingly beautiful, makes even the darkest crevices feel alive, like the kingdom is watching you behind faded pillars.

That Amazon deal is long gone, a relic of 2023. But the $23.13 I spent then bought me a ticket to a world I’ve played through five times now and will likely revisit again in 2030 when I’m old and grey. If you haven’t ventured into Hallownest yet, drop whatever you’re doing and go. The original game is available on everything from PC to the Nintendo Switch, and in 2026, after Silksong’s triumphant arrival, there’s never been a better time to trace the roots of Team Cherry’s genius. Just don’t blame me if you start seeing pale beings in your dreams, or if you catch yourself whispering “Geo” while checking your bank balance. The kingdom waits, patient as stone, ready to bury you in its arms.