Shovel Knight: King of Cards - Opinions

What makes a knight, a knight?

There remains no more important question in history than this, which has for centuries plagued the minds of the greatest (and the not-so-great) scholars in the land as they search for a solution which cannot be learned by knowledge alone. For it is only *in* knighthood that true understanding is acquired, as it is the goal of all who follow the oath to discover their own answer to this eternal riddle, however silly it may be. Indeed, throughout the ages past, there have been no shortage of maverick solutions to this age-old dilemma, but despite such a storied tradition of oddball approaches to the problem, there was yet one in all this time who was bold enough to reject the very notion of the debacle entirely, daring instead to ask a greater question:

What makes a knight, a king?

What sort of man could even ask such a question, anyway? Could he be a renegade squire, who merely feigns heroism out of envy? Or perhaps a true prophet of chivalry, whose musings quake the very foundation of knighthood itself through such turnabout? Whatever it is that the masses might think of his motivations, one thing is certain: the knight who calls himself king has never much cared about all that nonsense anyway.

This begs the question, though: if the noble pursuit for such an answer does not itself inspire a knight to reach ever higher, what could even exist that compels them to become king? Is it money? power? or the recognition that comes with such a position? Well... yes; all of that, as it would seem. But how does a paragon of valiance even find themselves allured by the garish qualities of nobility? After all, kingly authority is not simply an extension of knightly justice, nor is a crusader's spirit typically any more at ease in the grand halls of a castle than in the throes of a heroic destiny. So truly alien are the two concepts to each other, in fact, that before the King Knight came along, no one had even considered the possibility of such a juxtaposition, yet here we are.

On the surface, King Knight is an impressive figure (despite his stature): a gleaming, gilded gladiator in full regalia: the finest armor his mother could make given the time and money she had. With no expense spared on his appearance (mostly because there was no budget), King Knight is the very embodiment of how one might expect a kingly knight to look, if one were to exist. Yet despite all the glitz, this beacon of bravado remains wholly undeserving of the moniker he has so chosen. For it happens that King Knight doesn't actually know the first thing about being either a king or a knight. In reality, he understands so little about himself that he has no other choice than to shoot for the stars, as he cannot even comprehend what it might cost to achieve it.

Lacking even the most basic cognitive faculties necessary for holding an engaging conversation with anyone other than himself (and even that's pushing it), King Knight is by far the most interesting character in the Shovel Knight story thus far. He is irony incarnate: the bearer of the most noble title among his peers, and yet the least worthy of them to claim it; a showboating facade of a man who is no more a shining light of heroism than the so-called "villains" of his own story. In a world where nearly all the world’s inhabitants are quite literally *defined* by their titles, the presence of such a phony individual isn't just peculiar, it's outright disturbing.

As we follow King Knight's attempts to shoulder-bash his problems away one stage at a time, it becomes apparent that he is neither hero nor knight, and certainly no king. His desire to ascend the throne out of sheer arrogance is not sympathetic, it's pitiable: a sad attempt by a petulant man to steal something he should not rightfully have. By the end of it all, King Knight becomes almost universally renowned for his brutishness and cheating, even among those few who might still consider him an ally. It is here, on the verge of attaining his goal, that he is offered one last chance at redemption. It is here that he has a final chance to save those he has wronged and reject his own selfish behavior. It is here that he is faced with the ultimate test to judge if he is indeed worthy of all he desires, to truly be the King Knight, and it is here that he fails most severely.

The resultant decision to once again disregard the plight of others in this moment is at once both a natural and shocking occurrence: a logical conclusion that somehow also seemed too improbable to actually occur. Unlike the other campaigns, there is no change of heart here, only the conclusion to a tragic arc. And while it is this decision that ultimately leaves King Knight finally in possession of all he ever wished for, only in this self-described victory do we finally see a crack in the facade. For the first time, King Knight appears to show true remorse in his eyes (or at least his helmet) as it dawns on him just how many genuine relationships he’s had to throw away in order to win a plastic trophy, realizing that in his quest to win the crown, he ended up suffering the greatest loss of all.

Whether this emotion is a hopeful sign that King Knight might seek atonement for his misdeeds at some point, or rather a confirmation that such treachery was actually borne out of malice all along, we might not know for sure. What I do know for sure, though, is that King of Cards is easily my favorite Shovel Knight campaign. I loved every second I spent playing it and quickly learned to appreciate the depth to be found in both the platforming and card-playing. It is by far the longest campaign of the four, but it's the only one I really didn't want to end.