Chapter 90 - #90: A Hunter is Never Alone!

The developers were slightly confused by the sudden design pivot, but absolutely no one questioned Ethan’s decision.

From the very foundation of Sprout Studio to its current status as an industry titan, Ethan’s word was absolute law.

In the early days of development, the team had frequently doubted his mechanic choices. Some of his designs were so relentlessly punishing that the creators themselves couldn’t fathom how any sane player would ever accept them.

But time and time again, the market had proven that Ethan Vale possessed an otherworldly understanding of player psychology. Every single controversial mechanic he had ever finalized had eventually been hailed as an industry-defining masterpiece.

The team still didn’t fully grasp how the Notebook item was going to solve the psychological fatigue, but they executed his orders flawlessly. Everyone was genuinely curious: could a simple asynchronous text feature really pull the player base out of their collective depression?

Implementing the Notebook wasn’t technically difficult. Barely forty-eight hours after the emergency meeting, the studio pushed a hotfix, integrating Ethan’s exact specifications into the live build.

For new players booting up the game, they would receive the ‘Notebook’ as a starter item from the Messengers on the steps of the Hunter’s Dream, right alongside their starting weapons.

For the veteran players who had already started their playthroughs, the Messengers simply spawned in the dream and delivered the item directly into their inventories upon logging in.

When the players booted up Steam that morning, they just assumed it was a standard stability patch. But as soon as they loaded in, they noticed the brand-new item.

When a player used the Notebook, they could combine pre-set words and phrases to leave glowing, ethereal messages on the ground in their own world. If a player attached a specific ‘Gesture’ to the text, any player in another world who opened the message would see a glowing blue phantom of the original author perform that exact emote.

But the most crucial mechanic was the rating system. If a player read a message and upvoted it as ‘Fine’, the original author—no matter where they were in their own world—would instantly receive a massive burst of healing, restoring their health bar to full.

If a player happened to see a helpful message floating on the ground, taking two seconds to upvote it might literally save the life of a Hunter currently bleeding out in front of a boss.

[ CozyGamerGirl: Notebook? What the heck is this for? GamerDad88: Not sure yet, but I’m testing it right now. Toxic_Timmy: BOYS! I’m an old Hunter leaving some very helpful loot advice for the new kids! Tell me how I did! ]

Beneath his reply, Toxic_Timmy attached a gameplay clip. In the video, he was standing at the edge of a massive, pitch-black abyss in the Forbidden Woods. He used the Notebook to leave a glowing message on the edge of the cliff: [Treasure ahead, therefore take a step forward.] When he activated the message, a faint blue phantom of his character confidently walked straight off the ledge and plummeted into the void.

The number of ‘Fine’ ratings on his message was skyrocketing by the second.

[ NoobSlayer_99: BRO NOVA’S NETWORKING UPDATE IS ACTUAL MALICE. I was already getting tortured by the actual game, but now there are fake player comments trying to get me killed?! I CAN’T TELL WHAT’S REAL ANYMORE! ]

But amidst the chaotic, malicious trolling, something beautiful began to happen.

Perhaps because the world of Yharnam was already overflowing with unspeakable cruelty, the players genuinely wanted to offer their fellow Hunters a sliver of indirect comfort.

Bloodborne was defined by uncomfortable, devastating choices. As a foreigner navigating Yharnam, every single decision a player made was usually done with the best of intentions, but the final result was almost always catastrophic.

For example, during their exploration, a player might rescue a terrified, cynical woman from a back alley. Initially, she was deeply suspicious and constantly complained. But over time, she softened, eventually offering the player practical items and blood vials to aid their hunt.

She never refused a request. But if a player greedily asked her for blood too many times, she would eventually venture out into the streets to scavenge for more. The next time the player stepped out into the Cathedral Ward, they would find her pale corpse lying quietly in the gutters.

Or take the horrific beggar in the Forbidden Woods. A suspicious, blood-soaked man eating corpses, whom the player instinctively attacked and killed to protect the sanctuary. Only for the dying beggar to whisper: [I only wanted to help…] It was a dying breath that inflicted a massive psychological shadow on countless players, forcing them to question their own morality.

The truth of Yharnam was a thousand different faces of madness.

When you were adventuring alone in this cruel, desperate world… when you died over and over again, resurrecting at the lantern to repeat the inescapable nightmare…

When you were bleeding out on the cobblestones in front of Father Gascoigne for the twentieth time, your spirit completely broken, ready to uninstall the game…

You might suddenly notice a glowing message near the fog gate.

You click ‘Read’, and the text simply says: [Don’t give up!]

When you were covered in blood, completely exhausted after an hour of grueling exploration, arriving at the terrifying fog gate of the Shadows of Yharnam… you might find a message on the ground: [Please, carry on in my stead.]

Or perhaps you were creeping through a pitch-black corner of the sewers, absolutely terrified of the unknown, too scared to move forward. You might notice a glowing red bloodstain on the floorboards.

By interacting with it, you could summon the red phantom of an unknown player, watching the final five seconds of their life play out. You watched their phantom desperately swing its blade, frantically dodge backward, only to get violently grabbed and crushed by a monster hiding just out of sight.

The bloodstain wasn’t just a warning; it was a silent sacrifice that mapped out the ambush for you.

Or perhaps the most miraculous moment of all: you were locked in a brutal boss fight. You were completely out of blood vials, out of quicksilver bullets, and your health bar was sitting at a pixel.

Just as the boss raised its weapon to deliver the killing blow, a notification flashed across your screen:

[One of your notes was rated ‘Fine’.]

The act of kindness you left on the ground three hours ago instantly refilled your entire health bar—and with it, a massive surge of adrenaline and courage.

If a game relied too heavily on direct co-op multiplayer, it would completely shatter the oppressive, isolating atmosphere. But these brief, asynchronous whispers in the dark elevated the experience to a masterpiece.

Every single Hunter exploring Yharnam learned to deeply cherish the kind warnings left by their peers, and they learned to laugh off the malicious traps.

If the players had been mentally polluted by the suffocating, Lovecraftian madness of the ancient gods, the Notebook update was the absolute cure. It allowed everyone to realize that while they were physically isolated in their own worlds, they were never truly alone in their suffering.

Every time a player was brutally slaughtered, they would think of the glowing encouragements left behind. When they finally conquered a boss, their very first instinct was to pull out the Notebook and leave a strategic tip for the Hunters coming up behind them.

And occasionally, after getting embarrassingly killed by a basic trash mob, a player would leave a message purely out of spite.

[Safe zone ahead, therefore relax.] The author of that message would burst out laughing every single time their health bar randomly refilled, because they knew it meant some poor soul had just gotten obliterated by the exact same ambush and had hit ‘Fine’ out of pure, commiserating respect.

From the exact moment the networking patch went live, the agonizing complaints and the psychological dread on the forums noticeably quieted down.

The veteran Hunters booted the game back up, returning to Yharnam to scatter their wisdom across the cobblestones. [Treasure ahead] and [Beware of ambush].

They left detailed parry strategies in front of bosses they had once struggled against.

And they left delightfully malicious traps near cliffs, trying to bait greedy players into the abyss.

Whether the nightmare was a dream or reality, when a player walked forward into the dark, chaotic blood-mist, they finally understood a profound truth.

A Hunter is never alone.

( ?° ?? ?°) ( ?° ?? ?°) ( ?° ?? ?°) ( ?° ?? ?°) ( ?° ?? ?°)