God apostle elden ring

Elden Ring is a masterpiece, having mastered the art of showing without telling.

I beat all of the Soulsgames, from Demons souls to Elden Ring, got the plat in DS1, DS3, BB, Sekiro and Elden Ring (that one twice actually), yet whenever I revisit them, I don't feel like I'm all that good at them. Like the gameplay never really "clicked".
For example, right now I'm really hard stuck on Cleric Beast, literally the first boss in Bloodborne and can't beat it, I'm barely doing any damage. And it's like that with a lot of bosses in the series, even though I beat them multiple times. I don't get it.
At this point, Souls-games feel more like a chore for me to prove that I'm "good enough" or something, my ego is really getting in the way. Is anyone else feeling this way or does anyone have any advice on how to get more out of these games, because, apart from always being stuck on the seemingly easiest bosses, I like the combat a lot.

I'm just curious to see opinions. Dragon fights in Elden Ring are a thousand times better than the "fights" in Demon's Souls, but I think they also have a few issues. Namely, the dragons don't have stamina or FP which lets them spam moves that are annoying in succession (they fly too much and use too many breath attacks). If you didn't need to hold sprint for the entire fight, and they had more abilities focused on damage rather than running, I think they would be more enjoyable. Or do other players like that they relocate so often?

Hi. I'm looking to talk to some new people, maybe make some friends
They are:
History, especially the 19th-20th century but with more broad and general knowedge in other time periods. I'm not an expert or anything but I am pretty passionate about it and tend to read/listen about one event or the other on a pretty regular basis.
Literature, especially old novels. I recently read Demian, Day of the Oprichnik, Heart of Darkness, the Perfume and Little Prince. Currently started reading Blood Meridian. Some of my favourite works would include: "The Picture of Dorian Gray", "Faust part I" (need to get to part II) and "No Longer Human". I also like to write short stories and book reviews.
Languages. I know three, with one being a bit rusty. I'm currently working to scrape off the rust and then when I'm finished with that will begin to learn a fourth language. It's fun to go through different works in multiple languages. For example, I read the aforementioned Faust part I in all three.
Games. I recently played Cyberpunk 2077. Now that the dust has settled and the bugs mostly removed...It's not that bad! The main questline at least, Fallout 76 (Very average, I'm dissapointed with what they made the "RPG" system) and will try out Deus Ex Manking Divided again ( Got inspired since it's somewhat similar to Cyberpunk). I was waiting to play Elden Ring but it ended being too stressful for me. Go here and get beaten up go there and get beaten up, repeat...Besides that I'm a big fan of Paradox strategy games...like EU IV and HoI IV . I am definitely looking forward to try out Victoria III, after they add more content to it. I also got Modern Warfare 2, since the first MW had great multiplayer gameplay.
Anime and Manga. In recent times my interest has waned but I still watch the occasional series here and there. Like Cyberpunk Edgerunners (Which I found to be rather mediocre) and the very good new season of Bleach. Some other favourites include: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Death Note, Fate;Zero, Psycho Pass , Higurashi (season 2 is a bit weak but the first one is a masterpiece of horror), Code Geass, Attack on Titan and others. My favourite Manga is Berserk...I hope it gets a good ending..the first couple of new chapters were...a bit rough but the new author seems to have got his footing.
Anyway, that should be enough information to give you a good picture... Before I go, I would like to ask for you to include the title of the last book you read in your reply. A minor request, I feel. I'll be ignoring those that don't

I was raised by a single mother whose behavior grew odder over the years. I never doubted that she loved me, but I could tell she was changing. A couple of months after my 13th birthday she began appearing more sluggish. Falling asleep on the couch often, making confusing statements, and being generally groggy. Simultaneously she became more forgetful, asking about friends I hadn't talked to in years and being unable to remember my interests. My mom was fairly young so I didn't understand why she was losing her memory so fast. Whenever I questioned it she would get defensive, saying that I was the one who was out of sorts.
At one point she even berated me after I told her that I was getting worried. Naturally, our relationship soured as her negative behaviors outweighed her positive ones. It hurt to watch, especially because I could sense how hard my growing distance was impacting her. I even blamed myself for her state to an extent, which I realize now I should have never done. One thing remained good though, she was great at making butterfly pea tea. She would prepare it for me every morning and afternoon once I was home from school. It was a sapphire blue color that turned into a light purple when something acidic was added. It was simple but it always hit the spot. It helped that blue was my favorite color, so it was aesthetically comforting as well. Outside of the previously mentioned struggles with her, I lived a happy life. I got good greats and had reliable friends. It was mostly smooth sailing until the incident that changed my life.
I was fast asleep when I felt my bed-sheet get swiftly torn off me. Naturally, I realized it was my mom since no one else lived with us.
“Mom, what are you doing?” I asked in response. She gave no reaction apart from a strange high-pitched gasp. Not knowing what to say I sleepily rolled towards the electric clock. The numbers appeared as a reddish blur until I opened my crust-coated lids. Letting out a small irritated breath once the mucus cracked. I wiped the substance off and refocused on the time, finding that it was only 2:00 AM. I pushed myself up and reached for the lamp when my wrist was gripped tightly. I groaned with annoyance, rolling my eyes.
“Okay, you're starting to freak me out, seriously what’s going on?!” I spoke with as much defiance as I could muster at that hour. My mom remained silent, stepping forward with a notable thud. Her grip grew stronger, which made me start to panic. She'd had moments where she seemed out of it before, but it never got physical. She gave a wet cough before finally speaking.
“You forgot to wash your face, you always remember to do that, what went wrong?” she questioned sternly. I scrunched up my face, she’d gotten up at four in the morning just to berate him about skincare?
“I was tired, I just brushed my teeth to be done with the day.” I felt my justification was sound but my mom practically barked her response.
“Dammit! I told you it needs to be applied once a day, now you'll have to use it two times to make up for this!” My heart skipped a beat, surprised at her volume and harshness. It made me wonder if she was upset about something else but was letting it out on me. She was getting particularly stressed from work around that time. My mom sighed and relinquished her grip. I rubbed my wrist, hoping she'd get through her outburst soon.
“Please get up,” she said softer than previously, taking a couple steps back. I obliged, getting out of bed. When my feet touched the ground, confusion wafted over me. my socks quickly dampened as I realized that liquid was seeping through the carpet.
“Hey did you spill something earlier?” I asked, stretching my arms.
“No, I didn't.” she started plainly.
“Oh, well I think I might have stepped in some type of liquid,” I motioned to the lamp, but she quickly pulled me into her arms by my shirt.
“Let’s not worry about that Blue Bird, same goes for the lamp, you don't need light right now, you'll have it soon,” she assured me with a hint of excitement, I squirmed out of her hug, accepting the odd rules she set in place, I didn't want to argue with her.
“Just follow me,” she patted me on the shoulder and held my hand as we walked out to the backyard. It was almost impossible to see anything in our home with the moon being the only source of light, I didn't have a clue about how she navigated the space without bumping into anything. Still, I remembered how our home was set up and could tell that we’d already passed the bathroom. My nerves heightened with each step, I had so many questions. Why were we going into the backyard when my face wash was inside? What did I step in? What was wrong with wanting the lamp on? Those questions rang strongly in my mind. Nothing felt right, things had felt off before but never quite wrong. The anxiety of the situation gave me an uncomfortable rush of energy, I couldn't sleep now if I wanted to. When the sliding door opened the humid air hit my body with an unrepresented strength, something my mother didn't pay any mind to. I continued to follow her, even though I was scared.
“Go ahead and sit on that chair.” she motioned to a green plastic kiddie chair that fit me despite its childish design. I went along with her instructions, seating myself. My mom appeared in front of me and I realized she was wearing something on her face. It had the shape and construction of a surgical mask but it was woven with dying flower stems and grass. Before I could say anything she picked up a mug off the ground to my right. She smelled it through the mask, lovingly holding it to my face. I observed the steam and realized the vapor had a bluish tint.
“Go ahead, drink it.” she smiled with especially groggy eyes. I would have described them as bloodshot if the veins running up her sclera weren't sapphire. I leaned away from her and the beverage. Hiding it as another stretch, pulling my arms above my head while yawning.
“Well isn't that wonderful! Keep your arms there, I’ll feed it to you, it'll be like when you were an adorable baby, drinking out of a bottle in my stroller!” she said gleefully with an uncharacteristic giggle. I was now thoroughly unnerved, putting my arms down and pushing away the drink.
“God, what’s going on with you! And why are you wearing that mask!” I yelled out getting up from the chair. My mom groaned at my attitude, putting the cup up to my face again as I attempted to walk off.
“Nothing is going on with me, don't worry! I just thought this mask looked nice. I made this nice cup of tea and it would warm my heart if my baby boy drank it! You're growing into such a handsome man and this will help your complexion!” her enthusiasm grew as she pushed the hot cup against my lips. I whined from the sizzling heat, pulling back.
“Why are you so insistent on this?!” I shouted with a growing sense of anger. I despised the way she was speaking to me. Whenever she used baby talk around me it was a set up for something manipulative. An example being when she used it to guilt me into sleeping in the same bed with her. Saying I owed her since I was her baby. Sure she apologized, but it wasn't the last time she would do something like that. I couldn't even buy her excuse that it would help with acne. I’d had the tea many times before with her and we both knew it was unhelpful in that regard.
“Because it needs to be done for your sake!” Her shoulder cracked loudly as she spoke in a deeper, raspier voice I didn't recognize. I took a couple of steps back, reaching into the pocket of my sweat pants before remembering my phone wasn't on me. I swore under my breath as I looked at my mother with concern. I took my hand out and she pounced on me, spilling a majority of the hot liquid onto my left arm. I screamed at the sensation of the steaming beverage hitting my flesh. She held me down tightly with both arms. Her eyes glistened with a holographic finish that lit up amid the night. I had never seen her like this. At this point I stopped caring about what made her act this way. Regardless of what was causing her behavior, it wouldn't justify her current actions. I squirmed beneath her, screaming at her to let go. I still couldn't bring myself to fight back, so I resorted to begging.
“Mom please stop! I’m sorry for every inconvenience I’ve caused! We can go get you help and make up, just please get off of me!” I pleaded whilst trying to push her away.
“You're the one who needs help here! You’ve been going through life as a husk for years now! It hurts my heart to watch you deteriorate like this and I can't let it go on!” she grabbed onto the sides of my head and slammed it against the ground. I cried out in pain. The pressure pounding in my skull began in the center and spread down to my teeth. The agony pulsated through me stronger than anything I’d felt before. My mom removed a hand and pulled out a sippy cup from the pocket in her pajama shorts. It too was filled with butterfly pea tea. Taking this as an opportunity, I pushed past the damage and bit her arm. I felt awful attacking her, but my fear surpassed my guilt. As uncomfortable as it was I sank my teeth in as far as I could. She let out a throaty gurgle in response to the attack. I attempted to crawl out from under her, using my legs to pull myself up across the grass. I moved frantically, praying I could keep up the momentum. She clutched my thin hips with her legs to keep me down. I continuously smacked the container away with my free arm while I squirmed, my back smashing against the ground in my attempts. My mom covered the cap of the cup and rolled her eyes, pushing her entire body onto mine. Covering my face as I screamed for help.
“STAY STILL!” she screeched as a viscous substance seeped through her mask. Directly pouring down my forehead, making me tremble from its cold. Before I could plan another move she shoved me to the side. My face, experiencing a burn from the grit and speed. She ran to me, kneeled down, and forced her fist into my mouth. I coughed and cried while she pulled on my tongue. I wiggled it but her grasp only hardened with each movement. Her sweaty skin overloaded my sense of taste. I kicked around but nothing deterred her, even when she was hit. I couldn't focus on anything but how much I hurt, none of what was happening made sense.
She frantically opened the sippy cup, pried my mouth open, and made me guzzle down the drink. It was boiling and I screamed in ways I didn't know I was capable of. My entire body bent in all directions as I looked into the eyes of the thing before me. The initial blue glow transitioned further into a shining violet every time a new drop was swallowed. I felt powerless in the arms of my mother, I couldn't understand why she was torturing me like this. What did I do? Was she always like this and I undermined the signs so I’d live with a greater sense of safety? I continued to sob once I’d finished the tea. The burning made it sting every time I breathed.
My mom stared at me and for a brief moment, I saw a glimpse of the parent I was used to. Underneath the murky cool layers, I saw a speck of guilt. A single leaf in an empty pond, rippling through the surrounding water no matter how small. My mother sighed with a hint of sorrow, closing her eyes. Once she did, my energy died out, my cries grew softer, my body grew limp, and the world blurred. I couldn't even conceive a cohesive thought by the time my body slumped to the ground. All I was left with was confusion and a trace of dread.
“I’m sorry for earlier” rang through my ears once I regained my sense of touch. I grabbed the ground tightly, despite the presence of grass I knew I wasn't in our backyard. This grass was far too damp to be the dry patch I last resided in. I slowly opened my eyes, fearing where I’d find myself. I expected to be shrouded in darkness, laying in a stuffy deep hole in the ground, but I was met with the contrary. A perfect blue sky, a bustling variety of greenery, and a fresh breeze. I took a sigh of relief, still confused at where I was but happy it didn't appear threatening. I glanced ahead, finding a cluster of my favorite flowers at my feet. The smell of Jasmine and Orchids was heavenly, sweeter than fresh vanilla cake. Though the pleasant scent re-instilled unease in me. All of this was far too good to be true, and I still had no idea where I was. Did my mother take me here? If so, why? Was she somewhere here or had she abandoned him? I sat up delving headfirst into the flowers, groaning with frustration. The petals were soft, and damp like the grass, the water on them cool against my face. In any other situation, this would be a dream, but it only made him more nervous. Something this perfect had to be a setup.
“Blue Bird!” my mother happily exclaimed, I lifted my head, finding her standing over me. She was now wearing a polka-dotted dark blue dress instead of her nightwear. I shuffled myself back from her, her pupils had vanished and her mask was wilting.
“Mom, you're scaring me, I don't get what's going on. What are we doing here?” I asked shakily, she sighed and knelt to make direct eye contact with me.
“We're in a special place, a lush land that‘s available to very few. You don't have to worry, I just brought you here to rid you of your emotional pain.” her answer only confused me further.
“Emotional pain? Mom, I'm fine, the only thing causing me emotional distress is what’s happening right now. This place is nice but you're freaking me out.” I attempted to get up but something grabbed my legs. I shrieked as two bright green vines wrapped around my limbs.
“MOM WHAT THE HELL IS THIS! GET THESE THINGS AWA-” I was cut off by a much thicker vine logging itself into my throat. My eyes once again welled up with tears while multiple tendrils clenched onto me. Every time I moved another one would grab hold and the present ones would tighten. Nevertheless I continued screaming.
“I'm sorry my child, there’s something I've avoided telling you. I feed off the life force of living things. Cats, pigeons, people, as long as they’re not close to their death bed I can consume them.” I didn't fully understand what she was saying, but it only made my fear increase.
“Every time I take something from someone, I take them here. I've avoided taking things from you since you're the most precious thing to me. But my sweet baby boy, I've gotten so, so hungry.” Her pitch dropped while developing a defined rasp. I winced further from the nickname.
“I've tried to live off others, but I couldn't resist you anymore when you're so readily available. You’re so full of life, it's been hard not to contain my urges.” she stroked my cheek, frowning at my devastation.
“If I don’t get the nutrients I need, I'll turn into an awful thing. A monster incapable of complex thought that does nothing but destroys.” There was now a vine holding down every joint in my skeletal system, down to my fingers. Multiple small ones had been twisting themselves around my stomach, now making me struggle to breathe.
“Blue Bird, I have given my life to raising you, so please understand you have to give something back to me.” she explained solemnly.
The woven mask snapped off, quickly unraveling the horrifying contents beneath it. My pupils shrunk to pin drops, my screams of agony lessening from shock. My mother’s entire jaw had been dislocated, hanging onto her face by a couple of fleshy threads. The inside of her mouth was a bright blue with scaly gums. Her murky entirely cerulean eyes watered as she began panting. She extended her tongue to an inhuman length, thick saliva rapidly dripping down it. I wanted to believe that she wasn't going to hurt me, through all this she was still my mother. Yet I couldn't convince myself of that. Not when I felt multiple vines move through my body, entering through my mouth, eyes, and nose.
I couldn't bear to look at the thing I once called mom any longer. My ears buzzed while my eardrums were compressed by an increasing number of tubes. Their weight was breaking down the layers of skin and muscle preventing entry into my skull. Every orifice I had was on fire from pressure, yet I could tell this was only the lead-up to a crescendo of pain. A sharp fang poked through the tip of her and stabbed itself into my forehead. It punctured my skin, dragging in a curve. I twitched from the spike circling around my skull, extending my gash. Blood dripped on every side of my head, stinging harsher once the wind's currents grew.
By this point, I’d rather be in a wood chipper than deal with the cascade of agony invading every part of me. The blue-eyed thing licked up the gore flowing down and I wondered how I’d managed to go this entire time without throwing up. Her tongue was akin to sandpaper slathered in chili oil. In a last-ditch attempt to gain some power over the situation, I bit down into the vine as hard as I could. Which only worsened things when a miniature yet equally as strong vine sprung from the one I bit and wrangled my teeth. Forcibly spreading my jaw open further, making room for more to be stuffed in. A couple of tiny ones even slid between my front teeth. Thankfully, no more came after since the goal of the plant had been reached. The dam between the organic tendrils and my brain broke open, allowing each one to set roots in the vital organ. Each crevice of my intellect was invaded by a slithering, rough, nature. The impact was too strong and my senses shut down once more. My struggling limbs stopped what little movement they were capable of. My breathing slowed, my screams fell silent, and my eyes closed with tears still laying behind them. I didn't even realize I was shutting down, it just happened.
I was unconscious for an amount of time I can’t measure but knew was long. When I awoke my body felt infinitely more hollow. A loud ringing permeated my ears as I slowly took breaths. My jaw ached, my throat was painfully dry, and I could feel how cracked my lips were. My body fought with itself to not pass out, desperately trying to hold together.
“It’ll be all better soon,” My mother comforted while grabbing a sharpened knife. I was laying on her bed, but there were towels in place of sheets. Once she pulled my shirt over my head, I started to panic again.
“No, stop,” I mumbled, barely recognizing my weakened muffled voice. She made a series of meticulous cuts on my torso. Once the wound was opened she would squeeze as much blood as possible out of it and bag it away. I looked down, further horrified by the fact my blood was blue.
“I know it hurts, but it’ll be worth it,” She calmly told me as I bled out. The process went on for hours, resulting in me being unable to sleep for days after. I didn't feel safe in my house anymore, I locked myself in my room more than ever. Joining the longest after-school programs and visiting my friend’s house whenever I got the chance. Something my closest friend noticed most, he asked me what was wrong, but I told him it was nothing. I didn't expect him to believe anything about what happened, and the event was too awful for me to bring up. Meanwhile, my mother kept telling me I had a bad dream and that I was just moody. I showed her the scars as evidence but she accused me of making them myself to make her look bad. The next few years were tumultuous and before I knew it the initial incident became one of many. Every year she’d do it more often than the last, and each time it would take longer for me to recover.
It got to the point where the mere sight of gardens would scare me. The scents of my once favorite flowers grew sour, I didn't want to touch butterfly pea tea, and eventually, I couldn't even handle consuming things that are blue. It took me a long time to write this, as I’ve cried at multiple points by recounting what happened. There is a long road to recovery for me, which is even harder since everyone I’ve opened up to has called me crazy, but I'm done letting these memories fester and consume my life. I'm more than the worst things that happened to me.

I really like the theme of necromancy, and I wanted to play a game where instead of summoning a army of undead, it’s just one big undead. A undead that follows you around and is bigger than the player, or how some of the tibia mariners in elden ring can have a giant skeleton do a attack would be examples. Any type of rpg is fine, but I lean more towards ARPGs.

All the discussion about Elder Holland giving the commencement speech at SUU has made me think about a experience I had with Holland in 2018.
My brother was graduating from BYU and Holland was the commencement speaker. The weather the day of graduation was really hot. That’s key to the story.
The plan was for the graduates to line up and then cross the walking bridge and enter the Marriott Center. Elder Holland and a bunch of VPs were set up on a shaded platform outside the MC to “greet” the graduates as they walked by.
There was a temporary barrier set up to keep the family and friends crowd a comfortable distance from Holland. When my family and I first got there, we crowded up to the barrier with 100 other people to get a good look at an apostle. However, we didn’t know when the graduates were coming so after a while, most folks retreated further back to the shade of some trees. Everyone except my mom.
My mom has Multiple Sclerosis and is confined to a wheel chair. She lost most of the use of her legs years ago and the rest of her body has been deteriorating ever since. MS is a heart breaking disease because it only gets worse; never better.
My mom is a true blue TBM. In some ways the church gives her comfort. She often talks about all the things she’s going to do in the Celestial kingdom when her body is whole.
In other ways I see the church cause her pain and cognitive dissonance; why did God give me this trial? What am I supposed to learn? Don’t I have enough faith to be healed?
On this day, everyone backed up from the barrier to the coolness of the trees, except my mom. She sat there in her wheel chair, baking in the heat, just staring at a Holland.
I’m sure it was uncomfortable for him; one lone disabled woman just staring at him. My dad and I offered several times to take her to the shade but she declined. She didn’t read a book or play with a phone, she just stared at him.
Eventually the graduates came. We all came back up to the barriers to cheer for them. The procession probably took 30 minutes.
When the last graduate entered the Marriott Center, most of the crowd dissipated. My mom wanted to wait a minute longer.
Holland’s security detail ushered him off the platform and towards the MC entrance. He had to pass right in front of my mom. They were 20 feet apart. She didn’t say anything to him. He didn’t acknowledge her.
When Holland went inside, my mom finally let us wheel her into the shade. She was very quiet. Her face was red and she was dripping sweat.
We hadn’t brought any water. My dad ran up to the platform where the VIPs had sat. Several of the chairs had unopened bottled waters under them. My dad gave the one under Holland’s seat to my mom. The rest of the family thought it was so cool that she got to drink an apostle’s water.
I’ve never asked my mom about that day. My impression was she felt profound disappointment.
I wonder how Holland felt? I know he saw my mom. I partially feel bad for him. It must feel pretty crappy for people to think you can heal them, but you know deep in your heart you can’t.
I feel anger towards him too though. He could have said something to her. He couldn’t heal her, but he could have lifted her spirits. But even that was too big of a miracle.

First of all, that's not a game for everyone, I get it, you don't need to tell me.
So, introduction, you might skip it till the line.
Not this line, the next one.
At first I was skeptical about From Software games, because most of what I heard was "they're very hard". Then I've tried Dark Souls II, didn't get what's going on and abandoned it.
A few years later I've got my hands on Dark Souls: Remastered. Oh, boy, was I surprised. Yeah, it's hard as nuts, but it's so beautiful, and the atmosphere pulls you out of real life. That's what I've been looking for for a long time. It really gets that adventure feeling. And finally you're not an invincible superhero, closer to an ordinary guy.
I liked it very much, but it's really hard. I decided to try Elden Ring as people say that it's easier.
Ok, Elden Ring. Even more beautiful, really easier and a lot of free choice. Loved it. But I've seen a few YouTube shorts with Sekiro gameplay, and it really captivated me.
Sekiro. In the beginning you get to fight an impossible enemy and meet key characters this way. Classic for From Software games.
While being kinda the same, this game is quite different. You're not a knight, you're a ninja. Or shinobu, as it was called back then.
Maybe it's my playstyle, but I rate this game as the best one of From Software ones. It gets the atmosphere just right, the immersion is incredible, the cutscenes are made so well that you can't really tell at first if it's the game engine or a video, and yeah, the playstyle. There's stealth, there's action, you get to choose. It's not really an open world, but feels like it. And when you get cutscenes based on events, they don't stand out, they're so smooth, they're part of both the gameplay and the story.
And the boring part of getting back to the fight you just lost is made easier with a grappling hook. And you don't need to repair your armor or weapons. They took away those parts I didn't like in Dark Souls in both Elden Ring and Sekiro.
So, Sekiro took the things I like in those games and skipped all the parts that I don't like. Well, I liked different weapons and armor, but still. It's kinda the arcade version of souls-like without over-complication, and with upgrades to make it more smooth.
And unlike other souls-like games, you can just block all the incoming damage from the start, you just need good timing, and the cues are quite more obvious than in other games.
10/10 would recommend if you don't mind a game with tough enemies and testing you reaction timing.

I really liked elden ring and I really want dark souls 3 but it’s 60$ for a 7 year old game… should I?

ROMANS   Epistle [אגרת, ’eeGehRehTh] [of] Shah’OoL [“Lender”, Saul = Paul] unto the Romans  
Looming more ominously for me than for most, apparently, is the approaching destruction of Jerusalem and of the Jewish nation precipitated by its revolt against Rome less than 20 years after this epistle was written. The end was coming like a deluge. Was that the source of Paul’s zeal? Was he trying to get as many people on the ark as possible? Did he suppose that if his evangelizing mission could be completed before all hell broke loose, the Lord of Hosts would then intervene, upon which occasion it would not matter which army one was in (Roman or Israelite), but whether one was part of the remnant worthy of salvation?  
I think we now see the gospel as transcendent, supra national, and personally spiritual. But in Paul’s day, there was a clear realization that history was coming to a head, and that God himself would write it as imagined by the authors of Daniel and Revelation. Paul speaks so forcefully to his audience that to this day many readers expect the rapture to come before they finish reading the book.  

“The times are known to you, now is the time to rouse from sleep, for our salvation is closer now than it was on the day we began to believe.” Chapter 13, verse 11ⁱ  
“At many points there has been occasion for comment on the importance for Paul of his eschatological expectations … Salvation is primarily and essentially future, but is even now in a secondary or derived sense available, since the future age is already beginning to break in on us. It is this fact which gives the present time (καιρος, kairos) its crucial importance and imparts to the ethical exhortations Paul has given a supreme urgency. It is noteworthy that Paul has not made any of his injunctions conditional upon the fact of the rapidly approaching consummation, he has not mentioned the crisis at all in the ethical section until this point, and he mentions it here only to provide an additional incentive for allegiance to standards which have been set up and refined without any reference to it. The near approach of the final salvation and judgment does not make these practical teachings more true; but as Paul sees it, the coming event does make them more relevant and compelling.” (Knox, TIB 1954, pp. IX 608-610)ⁱⁱ  

INTRODUCTION  

“This letter shows signs of having been composed under conditions of greater leisure, and therefore with greater care, that any of the rest, and thus comes nearer to being a systematic and inclusive statement of Paul’s faith. It is thus the principal source book for the study of Paul’s gospel, and in consequence it is unquestionably the most important theological work ever written.” (Knox, 1954, TIB p. IX 355)  
“To read Paul’s words is to hear his voice.” (Knox, 1954, TIB p. IX 355)  
“His major preoccupation … has been the disastrous rift between the conservative Jerusalemite body of Christians and their Gentile brethren.” (Knox, 1954, TIB p. IX 359)  

THE CHURCH AT ROME  

“The most probable ancient account of the beginning of Christianity in Rome is given by a 4th century writer known as ‘Ambrosiater’:  

‘It is established that there were Jews living in Rome in the times of the Apostles, and that those Jews who had believed [in Christ] passed on to the Romans the tradition that they ought to profess Christ but keep the law [Torah]ⁱⁱⁱ … One ought not to condemn the Romans, but to praise their faith, because without seeing any signs or miracles and without seeing any of the apostles, they nevertheless accepted faith in Christ, although according to a Jewish rite.’ Ambrosii Works iii 373.” (Knox, 1954, TIB p. IX 367)  

From Adam Clarke:  

“The occasion of writing the epistle: … Paul had made acquaintance with all circumstances of the Christians at Rome … and finding that it was … partly of heathens converted to Christianity, and partly of Jews, who had, with many remaining prejudices, believed in Jesus as the true Messiah, and that many contentions arose from the claims of the Gentiles to equal privileges with the Jews, and from absolute refusal of the Jews to admit these claims, unless the Gentile converts become circumcised; he wrote this epistle to adjust and settle these differences.” (Clarke, 1831, p. VI 3)^iv  
“God had rejected the unbelieving Jews, and had substituted in their place a society of believers in Christ; collected indifferently from Jews and Gentiles.” (Clarke, 1831, p. VI 3)  
“… the Jews were the subjects of God’s kingdom under the old form [unlike Gentiles] and therefore could be called only to submit to it, as it was now modeled under the Messiah. Or they were called to repentance, to the faith, allegiance, and obedience of the Son of God, and to hope of eternal life through him; whom rejecting, they were cast out of God’s peculiar kingdom.” (Clarke, 1831, p. VI 19)  

Chapter One  

Introduction [מבוא, MahBO’, “what’s coming”] [verses 1-15]  

-1. From [מאת, May’ayTh] Shah’OoL, slave [of] the anointed YayShOo`ah [“Savior”, Jesus], who was called to be a sent-forth [apostle] and singled out [ויחד, VeYooHahD] to tidings [gospel] of Gods,
-2. tidings that Gods promised from before [מקדם, MeeKehDehM], in mouths of His prophets, and writings the sacred 3. regarding [על-אודות, `ahL-’ODOTh] his son, YayShOo`ah the anointed, our lord, that according to [שלפי, ShehLePheeY] the flesh, his derivation [מוצאו, MOTsah’O] is from seed of David,
-4. and according to Spirit the Holy was demonstrated [הפגן, HooPhGahN] that he is son [of] Gods, in power [בגבורה, BeeGBOoRaH] in his resurrection from the dead.  

“Many commentators see [this] … as a concession [by Paul] to the supposed ‘adoptionist’ Christology of the Roman church … [-] the view that Jesus became the Son of God (or the ‘Christ’ or ‘Lord’) at some point after the beginning of [his] earthly life, that God chose or ‘adopted’ him to be the Messiah. … early Christology was almost certainly of this type, the Resurrection being the moment of adoption. … the primitive ‘adoptionism’ represented by certain statements in Acts (e.g. [for example], 2:36) was not immediately replaced by incarnationism … There was almost certainly an intermediate stage represented by the letters of Paul and to some extent by the synoptic Gospels. At this [intermediate] stage the pre-existence of Christ is affirmed … only gradually was it realized that [this] entailed a re-telling of the entire story.” (Knox, 1954, pp. TIB IX 382-385)  

...  

…………………………………………………………………  
Energy [of] the Tiding
[verses 16-17]  

-16. “I have no shame in tiding of the anointed, that behold she is energy [of] the Gods to save …  

“The word salvation [save] … in the New Testament period … had among Jews come to mean … the great deliverance which God would bring to pass in the last days. So it is used by Paul … an eschatological term … for … Paul believed that the ‘last days’ had already begun to come.” (Knox, 1954, TIB p. IX 391)  

-17. “For has come justification of [צדקת, TseeDQahTh] the Gods,  

“Generally speaking, in the Old Testament it is those who are already righteous whom God vindicates. The meaning is literally ‘justification’ – i.e. [in other words], … the being treated as righteous, of those who are in fact righteous. It is at this point that Paul’s doctrine of justification diverges from the O.T. [Old Testament, the Hebrew Bible] conception, for the distinctive thing about the justification made possible by Christ is that it involves the declaring righteous, the treating as righteous, of those who are in fact not righteous. Commentators often seek to get around the difficulty here – the apparent validation of a fiction – by insisting that the verb δικαιοω [dikaioo] meant to ‘make righteous’ … the final sigma [ς] … dropped from the adjectival form (δικαιος [dikaios]); such an interpretation can be sustained only by rather violent exegesis.” (Knox, 1954, pp.TIB IX 390-391)  

“revealed [מתגלית, MeeThGahLaYTh] from within [מתוך, MeeThOKh] belief for the purpose [לתכלית, LeThahKhLeeYTh] [of] belief, as is written: ‘and justification will be by faith.’” [Habakkuk 2:4]  
-18. “And truly [ואמנם, Ve’ahMNahM] fury [זעם, Zah'ahM] [of] Gods is revealed from the skies upon all their evil and their wickedness of sons of ’ahDahM [“men”, Adam], the suppressers [המעכבים, HahMe'ahBeeYM], in their wickedness, [את, ’ehTh (indicator of direct object; no English equivalent)] the truth.”  

“Those who believed the declarations of God when the Chaldeans besieged Jerusalem, having acted conformably to them, they escaped with their lives.” (Clarke, 1831, p. VI 70)  

………………………………………………………………  
The Denial [ההתכחשות, HahHeeThKahHayShOoTh] to truth and her outcomes [ותוצאותיה, VeThOTsah’OThayHah] [verses 18 to end of chapter]

 
-18. “And truly [ואמנם, Ve’ahMNahM] fury [זעם, Zah'ahM] [of] Gods is revealed from the skies upon all their evil and their wickedness of sons of ’ahDahM [“men”, Adam], the suppressers [המעכבים, HahMe'ahBeeYM], in their wickedness, [את, ’ehTh] the truth.”  

“We cannot ‘absolve’ God of responsibility for judgment without accepting in effect the Marcionite belief in two Gods – one of judgment and the other of love.”  

...   An Amateur's Journey Through the Bible

Elden Ring is the first From Soft game I’ve actually committed to playing and am interested in the DLC. Since it seems like the expansion is on the horizon and I’m only now getting closer to the end of my first play through, I was curious how they’ve handled their DLC in the past? Has it just been an extra place that’s easily accessible right from the get go, or is it “whoops, you killed this boss or this character is now dead, sorry no dlc for you on this run”?

I leveled up a Rogue for the puppy last weekend and was happy enough with it. Giving Druid a shot today because it's the class I really planned on maining.
I do not understand how - even for a beta - Blizz is presenting melee gameplay for public consumption. It feels so unbelievably bad vs. ranged options.
My druid is currently level 11, and here are the issues I see:
1) Werebear is terrible - at least early on. Like, "shouldn't even be an option" terrible. Here's the problem: it presents itself as the "bear tank" meat grinder option, but the survivability feels no better than I did on my Rogue last week. Fortify feels more like a buff to manage like a glass cannon class vs. beefy survivability unique to my class.
2) Resource generation is awful, especially on bosses. I see a lot of the Elden Ring problem where the bosses get "their turn" and all you can really do is dance around and dodge their stuff and get your pokes in when it's "your turn". I don't feel like I'm cleverly weaving my attacks between a learnable move-set; I feel like I get 1 second every 8 to build my resource, and the rate of regeneration is really, really bad. I swapped out of Werebear and switched to a lightning build, and while that whole kit feels immensely better and more satisfying, building resource with melee attacks still feels grossly underdeveloped. I tried Den Mother w/ Storm Strike & Lightning Storm and the full defensive suite and didn't even bother to give it a 2nd attempt - the lack of uptime was that bad.
I don't know what all the knobs and levers are that Blizz has to fix these problems, but like a good patient that's not trying to WebMD my own treatment plan, I'm just going to post what feels bad to me - and so far, the melee gameplay elements of druid feel really, really bad, which is a shame because everything else feels really, really good.

I recently got a Series X along with a copy of this game. It looks incredible and I can't wait to really get into it. But one thing is really bugging me. I can't move backwards without turning around and running. I've watched other people play on YouTube, so I know it's possible to just back up or move side to side while still facing enemies, but for some reason I am unable to do this. Some people have suggested making sure target lock is on, but whether it is or not, it doesn't seem to matter. Forgive me if it's something simple, but I'm stuck on this. Any info to help with this would be greatly appreciated.