The Lands Between never truly sleep. Even as 2026 rolls on, Elden Ring remains a cultural titan, its golden boughs still casting long shadows over every new action RPG that dares to step into the arena. Yet beneath the surface of ceaseless jolly cooperation and relentless PvP duels, one ancient grudge refuses to die. A sect of Tarnished veterans—those who’ve been parrying and riposting since the days of the original Demon’s Souls—are still getting their knickers in a twist over how their fellow players choose to fell demi-gods. The bone of contention? Spirit Summons, Ashes of War, and the ever-controversial magic build.
When Elden Ring first thundered onto our hard drives years ago, it brought with it a veritable treasure chest of new toys. Chief among them was the Spirit Summoning Bell, a mechanic that lets a lone wanderer whistle for spectral backup—wolves, jellyfish, even a headless knight who goes by the name of Lhutel. The idea was simple: use the ashes of your fallen foes to call forth a ghostly ally, especially when a boss fight starts feeling more like a root canal. It was a lifeline, a sliver of mercy in a world famous for kicking players in the teeth. Yet for a noisy subset of the old guard, this was nothing short of sacrilege. They’ve been throwing shade online ever since, insisting that a \u201creal\u201d player solos Malenia with nothing but a rusty dagger and a dream.
If that wasn\u2019t enough to make the purists blow a gasket, Ashes of War and full-blown sorcery builds poured gasoline on the fire. Ashes of War transformed mundane weapons into arts of war that could stagger gods, while a well-tuned mage could delete a late-game health bar from across the arena with a single, well-placed Comet Azur. The internet lit up with gatekeeping memes, telling newcomers they \u201cdidn\u2019t really beat\u201d the game if they relied on these tools. The phrase \u201cplay it the right way\u201d got bandied about, as if Hidetaka Miyazaki himself handed each disc copy with a handwritten scroll of approved tactics.
Here\u2019s the kicker, though: none of this is any kind of exploit or unintended cheese. It\u2019s the game as written. FromSoftware didn\u2019t hide the Spirit Calling Bell in some obscure corner; Ranni gives it to you on a silver platter. The developers painstakingly animated dozens of spirit companions, balanced their FP costs, and scattered their upgrades across the map. Calling in a mimic tear isn\u2019t some glitch in the Matrix—it\u2019s a deliberate design choice. And that\u2019s the hill the purists keep dying on, a hill that has been thoroughly, comprehensively stormed by the reality of what Elden Ring actually is: an open-world masterpiece that offers a spectrum of difficulty levers built into its very DNA.
Picture this for a moment. A player nursing a six-month-old gamer in one arm, squeezing in a precious hour of adventure after a soul-crushing day at work. They face Radahn, the Starscourge, a man whose lore alone could give anyone performance anxiety. Are they supposed to sit there for four hours learning every dodge timing by muscle memory, or are they allowed to summon a troupe of NPC allies, unleash a barrage of rot breath, and ride away to victory? The answer, for anyone not terminally online, is obvious. The joy of Elden Ring isn\u2019t a finite resource that gets diluted when someone plays differently. If anything, the sheer variety of viable builds\u2014from naked club-wielder to glass-cannon astrologer\u2014is what keeps the game thriving in 2026, long after many contemporaries have gathered dust.
The community\u2019s own evolution tells the real story. Head into any major Discord server or subreddit today, and the most upvoted advice to a struggling newbie is almost always \u201cuse everything the game gives you.\u201d The \u201cgit gud\u201d mantra hasn\u2019t vanished, but it\u2019s been tempered by a wave of empathy and practicality. Streamers who once scoffed at sorcery now run \u201cOops! All Spells\u201d challenge runs just to feel the power trip. The consensus has shifted: the only \u201cwrong\u201d way to play is the one that makes you stop having fun. And let\u2019s be honest, watching a summoned skeleton squad dogpile a boss while you sip a flask from a safe distance is, objectively, hilarious.
That\u2019s not to say veterans shouldn\u2019t take pride in their no-hit, RL1, no-summon runs. Those feats are spectacular displays of skill that deserve every bit of applause. The trouble only starts when that pride curdles into derision, when someone gets a superiority complex for tackling a video game with self-imposed shackles. Games, especially sprawling epics like Elden Ring, are not a monolith. They\u2019re playgrounds. Some people are there for the jungle gym, others for the sandbox, and a few for the rigorous geometry of the monkey bars. All are valid.
So the next time you see a hot take on social media lambasting a newcomer for leaning on Spirit Ashes, remember: the Lands Between are vast enough for all manner of Tarnished. Gatekeeping is a losing battle that does nothing but sap the warmth from a community that, at its heart, loves to hoist one another up toward the light of the Erdtree. Whether you\u2019re a sword-and-board purist or a comet-slinging sorcerer, the only real sin is forgetting that we\u2019re all here because we chose to walk the same broken path. And if anyone tries to tell you your victory doesn\u2019t count because you used a summon, just send them a photo of a jar warrior. Nobody can stay mad at those little guys.