(Image credit: FromSoftware)
As the 10th anniversary of Bloodborne arrives, my thoughts are consumed by the haunting figure of the Orphan of Kos, a frail child at the world’s end. Despite Sony not announcing—and likely never considering—a remastered 60fps version, the absence of such news fades beside my contemplation of this game’s most formidable and melancholic boss battle.
The FromSoftware wiki advises, “If you are in any way religious, it is heavily advised to pray for help, as defeating this boss may be the most painful challenge you’ll ever face.” As someone of casual Christian faith, I heeded this advice and approached the Orphan in The Old Hunters expansion with humility, immersing myself in the game’s atmosphere. Witnessing the Orphan’s birth was transforming, as sadness seeped into my living room, echoing the desolation of Bloodborne’s Fishing Hamlet.
I encountered a priest wandering the Hamlet who eulogized this pitiable figure: “Ah, sweet child of Kos, returned to the ocean. A bottomless curse, a bottomless sea.” His fragile appearance deceived me into assuming he’d show gentleness. Yet when faced with me, the Orphan’s tragic existence, born from his deceased Great One parent, validated that our world is surrounded by death, just like the environment exploited by the Fishing Hamlet’s selfish inhabitants, reminiscent of H.P. Lovecraft’s The Shadow over Innsmouth.
Confronting the Orphan, his frail stature belied his ferocity. Initially, I thought I could spare him misery, but his ferocity quickly dismantled that notion. Like a force of nature, he rushed me with raw intensity, catching me utterly unprepared. The Bloodborne wiki didn’t exaggerate; the Orphan’s battle demanded an unprepared level of combat prowess.
Beyond the technical challenge, the emotional weight was profound. The Orphan’s cries resembled torn scars, making my role in his distress even more agonizing. During his second phase, seeing cobweb wings emerge as he succumbed to pain evoked empathy for this isolated creature.
Reflecting years later, this encounter was perfect in showing Bloodborne’s theme: a world valuing power over empathy, echoing through Yharnam’s oppressive atmosphere. The townsfolk left decay in their wake, desecrating a miracle for their greed. As a hunter driven by blood, my ethics remained stained, much like Master Willem’s revealing philosophy: “We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood.”
The Orphan’s solitary fight underscores that violence need not precipitate an epic battle of good versus evil, as often in video games or society. More often, it results in isolation—the true tragedy. After defeating him, Bloodborne declares “NIGHTMARE SLAIN,” yet his spirit heralds an inevitable peace, evoking touches of Walt Whitman’s reflections on life’s enduring essence.
Ten years on, Bloodborne stands unparalleled in atmosphere, with Yharnam’s vast oppressive scale casting a mesmerizing spell.