Demon's Souls is not your friend, nor does it want or try to be. Your relationship is on its terms and you can love it or leave it. From Software's dungeon crawler comes from some sick, demented alternate plane of existence, where arcades are thriving and popping quarters into your console is how publisher Atlus recoups the costs of the game. It's a reality where Diablo was a tremendous flop because gamers have accepted masochism as the only measure for a game's quality. Demon's Souls is your leather-clad mistress and -- the worst part -- if you can withstand the pain for almost eight hours, you may, in what can only be described as a horrifying epiphany ... begin to enjoy it.