>>723762586 (OP)
When evaluating, specifically, the artistic merit of Silksong, we have to ask: does it elevate taste? Specifically, is it what I like to call a Taste Elevator: game design that trains players toward density, mastery, and precision, much like how Dodonpachi taught risk-reward at bullet density, or how Final Fight drilled spacing discipline every second you touched the stick. Silksong at least aims at that tradition of skill elevation, whether or not it succeeds because it's also a Metroidvania and thus suffers from what I like to call Temporal Exploration Exhaustion and Self-Serve Upgrade Casino.
Now contrast that with Expedition 33. What we have here is not a Taste Escalator but what I like to call Taste Leprosy: the slow rotting of standards.
First, RPG combat is the definition of Menu Sludge, turn-based non-interactivity masquerading as strategy, theater mechanics where your only real action is selecting icons from a list; a Kierkegaardian despair loop where the player is locked into repetition of numbers and level-ups, a Baudrilliardian Feedback Simulacrum mistaking statistical growth for mechanical growth. It’s Nietzschean Permissiveness at its worst: no strict mastery, no pressure, only the illusion of consequence. The result is, specifically, what I like to call Ludic Necrosis: gameplay that rots the more you engage with it.
Second, RPGs suffer from what I like to call Skill Defenestration: throwing depth like spacing out the window in favor of bloated stats and currency loops. When E33 tries to compensate, like by adding a parrying mechanic, it turns into Mitochondrial Heliocentric Theodicy. This isn’t Skill Enforcement Density but Progression Anesthesia: press button, watch animation, numbers go up. Compared to the scoring pressure of Ketsui or the raw immediacy of Silksong's lack of inertia and input lag, Expedition 33 is for people allergic to gameplay, like IGN journalists. It lowers taste by design, what I like to call Septic Tank Design.
