Summary
Patience isn’t just a virtue in Soulslike games — it’s survival. These games don’t hand out victories. They demand commitment, timing, and an almost Zen-like calm while something the size of a cathedral tries to flatten the player with a flaming tree branch. Rushing in is a death sentence, and even blocking without thinking can result in punishment. But for players who learn when to wait, when to strike, and when to back off completely, there’s no thrill quite like finally watching ascreen-filling boss crumble to dust.
Not every Soulslike handles patience the same way. Some let players turtle behind shields, others teach them to parry with pinpoint precision, while a few hide rewards behind cryptic systems and slow mastery. But every single one makes waiting feel like part of the fight.
Salt and Sanctuaryproves that patience hasa place in 2Dtoo. Beneath its grim, hand-drawn art style is a dense, labyrinthine world full of traps, ambushes, and aggressive enemies that hit like trucks. Exploration feels like navigating a haunted map scrawled in blood and regret, and rushing through it is a sure-fire way to get impaled or tossed into the abyss.
Combat leans into deliberate, weighty movement. Weapons have real heft, stamina drains fast, and hitboxes are unforgiving. Even platforming requires timing and precision, especially when navigating vertical gauntlets or hidden routes. Players who take their time to learn enemy tells, test weapon speeds, and use ranged tools wisely will survive. Impatience, even for a moment, often leads to a long walk back to the last sanctuary.
The game’s branching class system and expansive skill tree also reward slow, steady progression. There’s no shortcut to becoming powerful — just consistency, awareness, and learning how every enemy thinks. It’s Soulslike in both style and spirit.
Lies of Pmight look likeBloodborneat first glance, but its pace is much slower and more unforgiving. It baits aggression with quick enemies and flashy moves, then punishes players the moment they fall for it. The game’s real rhythm lives in the perfect guard system, which demands precise timing to deflect damage, stagger enemies, and avoid durability loss on weapons.
There’s a sense of tension in every encounter; an undercurrent of “wait, not yet” that defines the entire combat loop. Patience here is mandatory. Bosses unleash long, multi-phase attacks that can’t be dodged thoughtlessly. And then there’s the second phase curveball. Nearly every major boss changes tactics mid-fight, meaning players who can’t adapt will crumble fast.
Weapon customizationlets players fuse handles and blades, but even there, experimentation has to be tempered with an understanding of enemy types and timing. The game constantly nudges players to step back, reevaluate, and choose their approach more carefully. It’s a Soulslike that doesn’t just reward patience — it tests it.
At first glance,Nioh 2looks like it’s built for chaos.Combat is fast, weapons are plentiful, and Yokai abilities let players transform into supernatural wrecking balls. But underneath all the flair is a combat system that only clicks when players stop panicking and start managing their stamina, or ki, like it’s sacred.
The game’s Ki Pulse system is built entirely around rhythm and timing. Every dodge, block, and swing drains Ki, and overextending leaves players wide open to punishing attacks. But those who learn to pulse their energy back at the right moment can stay aggressive while still playing it safe. Mastering this turns combat into a kind of dance, where every move has a beat and tempo.
Bosses are aggressive and relentless, especially in later stages, and the game throws hordes of fast, brutal enemies at players in tight quarters. Charging in guarantees death. But learning weapon stances, recognizing attack patterns, and slowly perfecting Ki Pulse windows is whereNioh 2starts feeling like an art form.
There’s a strange quiet toMortal Shellthat sets it apart from its peers. Not in terms of volume — there are plenty of guttural enemy shrieks and ambient dread — but in its rhythm. This is a game that actively dares players to stop moving. Literally. One of its core mechanics is the ability to “harden,” turning the player character to stone mid-action to absorb a hit or bait enemies into overcommitting. Learning when to freeze, when to dodge, and when to swing is the entire point.
Combat is slow and deliberate. Enemies hit hard, and resources are limited — there’s no Estus flask equivalent, just consumables and a regeneration system tied to specific Shells. Mistiming a heal or spamming an attack will get players killed faster than they can hit respawn. And yet, for those willing to slow down and learn the cadence of each enemy,Mortal Shellbecomes a strangely meditative experience.
There’s also no traditional leveling system. Power comes from understanding which Shell suits a given situation best, and unlocking each one’s passive abilities over time. In a genre full of number-chasing, that alone makesMortal Shellfeel like a Soulslike designed for the disciplined.
Patience inSekiro: Shadows Die Twicedoesn’t mean standing still with a shield up. It means reading attacks, holding one’s nerve, and letting one’s sword clink against an enemy’s blade until you’ve carved a perfect opening. There’s no stat-heavy build tinkering here. No armor swaps. No co-op lifelines. Just one sword, one protagonist, and a steep, punishing path to mastery.
Bosses aren’t defeated through brute force. They’re dismantledslowly and methodically, by building posture damage until their defense collapses. And that only works if players learn to parry entire attack strings, dodge grabs with pinpoint timing, and punish only when it’s safe. Swing too early, and players might get comboed into a wall. Swing too late, and they might miss the only opening you had.
Even stealth, a rare commodity in Soulslikes, is built around restraint. Rushing in gets the player mobbed, but holding back, waiting for the right patrol path to break, and striking unseen? That’s whereSekiroshines. Few games make patience feel this electric, and none punish flinching quite as ruthlessly.
InDark Souls 3, patience isn’t optional. It’s baked into every single system, from the stamina bar to the invincibility frames. Players who don’t learn to manage distance, bait attacks, and wait for the right opening will find themselves flattened again and again. The game is faster than its predecessors, but it’s also meaner. Enemies swarm more aggressively, bosses are nastier, and shortcuts are harder to find.
But when players slow down and let the game unfold piece by piece, something incredible happens. They start spotting ambushes before they happen. They learn the rhythm of a Lothric Knight’s attacks. They find comfort in the crackling warmth of a bonfire after a brutal run. Every hard-earned victory reinforces the idea that restraint is just as powerful as raw skill.
And then there’sthe boss fights. Pontiff Sulyvahn, the Abyss Watchers, Sister Friede — each one teaches its own lesson in timing and patience. Every swing, every dodge, every moment of hesitation carries weight. InDark Souls 3, patience is transformed into muscle memory and quiet triumph.
