Matt Purslow
Guest
After years of waiting, Hollow Knight: Silksong is finally in the hands of the people. By this point, many will even have completed it. Gone are the days of applying clown makeup during each major gaming event, replaced instead by widespread love for Team Cherry’s sequel. Yet, for me, I’m struggling to be excited about Silksong, despite the fact it’s the latest entry in one of my favorite genres.
For this issue of Access Designed, I’m not going to be analysing Hollow Knight: Silksong in the traditional sense. The game’s demands of speed and precision, combined with a lack of accessibility features and my own disability, has meant that I physically can’t play it. And so I’m unable to give an accurate analysis of gameplay, story, and even the art direction of different zones, all of which can be examined through an accessible lens. Instead, I want to talk about the overarching problems of the Metroidvania genre itself, and how Silksong is just perpetuating and reinforcing inaccessible barriers.
It Goes Beyond Difficulty
Like its predecessor, Silksong continues the trend of challenging players with complex platforming and boss battles. While difficult experiences have become mainstream successes in recent years, some Hollow Knight players have noted that Silksong can be particularly punishing. Those concerns have been at least partially addressed by the developers, who notably nerfed two early game bosses within the first week of Silksong’s release. And while difficulty is absolutely an accessibility issue, I’m not going to argue for or against it in Silksong.
Difficulty is the proverbial low hanging fruit of accessibility critiques. Accessibility consultants, champions and journalists have written articles about what difficulty is or isn’t, produced clips or reels talking about the importance of difficulty settings, and created countless threads on social media, advocating for more diverse accessibility tools to adjust a game’s difficulty. We spend so much time championing the inclusion of difficulty options that we often miss other crucial barriers that prevent a variety of disabled individuals from enjoying a new game. Is Silksong difficult? According to reviews and conversations, yes. Should we focus all our accessibility arguments on that alone? Absolutely not.
What Silksong Lacks
Aside from no accessibility settings for difficulty, Silksong’s overall settings options are minimal, especially for a game released in 2025. Volume can be adjusted through sliders, the HUD can increase in size, and some actions can be rebound, but only on specific buttons. For disabled players looking for a variety of accessibility menus, Silksong is objectively a disappointment.
While I acknowledge that studios do not all share the same engine and thus don’t have a unified toolbase to create accessible options, nor do developers all have the same level of knowledge to implement these features, I do wish Team Cherry had taken direct inspiration from Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown’s Memory Shards system. Ubisoft’s smart new addition to Metroidvanias allows you to take a screenshot of a location and pin it to the map, which provides a persistent reminder of previously-visited zones that may require specific items to traverse, or places to return to once you’ve become stronger. This option revolutionized the Metroidvania genre, with The Lost Crown becoming one of last year’s most accessible games. While Silksong does feature the ability to purchase and place markers on your map to help remember safe areas and other important points of interest, there’s nothing that comes close to The Lost Crown’s Memory Shards. I understand Team Cherry may not have the same resources as Ubisoft, but to offer nothing that aids accessibility beyond the bare minimum in the form of map markers is frustrating.
What Silksong Gives
As I’ve mentioned through previous editions of Access Designed, options are not the only form of accessibility. While Silksong fails to provide numerous accessible settings, its use of inclusive design, particularly through Tools, can give some relief. The Fractured Mask, for instance, prevents a fatal blow from killing Hornet. This is fantastic for physically disabled players that struggle with precise motions, or cognitively disabled players that need more time to memorize boss attack and movement patterns, allowing for a second chance at life before returning to a rest bench. The Fractured Mask is also great for difficult parkour sections, and the fact that this Tool recharges on rest means you always get that second chance on every attempt. The Compass, meanwhile, tracks your position on Silksong’s sprawling map, and is another helpful item for cognitively disabled players. And my personal favorite Tool that I’ve discovered through watching let’s plays is the Magnetite Dice, which randomly nullifies a single hit. Despite the random chance associated with this item, this is great for physically disabled players that may lack energy during extensive play sessions.
But these Tools aren’t offered immediately. Players are forced to progress through the game, beating challenging bosses and completing side quests before unlocking them. While I’m a firm believer that disabled people deserve to be challenged by the games they play, offering crucial pieces of accessibility from the very start of the game doesn’t limit that challenge – it just enables us to play like everyone else. In Silksong, some players may not make it far enough to unlock the Tool that would provide them with a vital accessibility feature.
The Overarching Metroidvania Problem
Silksong’s difficulty and lack of accessibility offerings make for an inaccessible challenge, but that’s not why I can’t play. As my disability progressed and I lost function in my hands, I found the speed and precision required to play Metroidvanias became too much. Even The Lost Crown, with its accessibility offerings, was too taxing for me to finish.
Before I decided to purchase Silksong, a friend advised me to wait until he could play. After several hours, he told me not to buy the game because the speed, combined with the dexterity needed to platform, fight, and use items, would undoubtedly leave me exhausted and frustrated. Therein lies my biggest critique of this genre – beyond what we’ve seen in The Lost Crown, no accessibility settings or system designs have yet to address the speed and inaccessibility of the core combat and platforming gameplay.
I am the first person to admit I am no game designer. I also acknowledge it’s virtually impossible to make every game accessible to every disabled player. Yet, as a lifelong fan of the genre, I genuinely miss playing these games. I’m not critiquing them out of baseless anger, but rather a desire to play one of my favorite genres once again.
Hollow Knight: Silksong, from the perspective of a sequel, is an achievement. Yet, for disabled players looking to dive deep into Team Cherry’s newest game, it’s an accessibility failure. Difficulty aside, disabled players have few offerings to help them navigate the map and defeat challenging enemies. And for those comments undoubtedly proclaiming that not every game is made for everyone, let it be for the individual to decide – not based on inaccessible practices, but rather just a fondness of the genre. For developers looking to Silksong’s success, I ask that they please use its lack of accessibility as motivation. As a lifelong fan of the Metroidvania genre, I hope someone will use Silksong’s failures as inspiration to make me return.
Grant Stoner is a disabled journalist covering accessibility and the disabled perspective in video games. When not writing, he is usually screaming about Pokémon or his cat, Goomba on Twitter.