Why Was 'The Dinosaur Lords' Controversial?

I get really into the lore for stuff like this, so here's the short and sweet: in 'Red Dead Redemption 2' you have to collect all 30 dinosaur bones scattered across the map and then bring them to the paleontologist stranger who wants them. Once you hand in the full set, you'll receive an in‑game cash payment and a unique collectible reward for completing the set. It’s mostly a completionist payoff rather than a gameplay power-up—more flavor and bragging rights than combat advantage. Beyond the cash and collectible, finishing the bones lights up that chunk of your completion percentage and contributes to the game’s completion list and trophy/achievement progress. I love that it sends you traipsing through weird corners of the map, too—hunting those bones turned several strolls into mini-adventures, and that moment when I found the last one felt satisfying in a very nerdy way.

If you're hunting down every little thing in 'Red Dead Redemption 2', here's the short, no-nonsense scoop I live by: dinosaur bones are a single-player collectible and they don't just pop back into the world once you pick them up. I collected the full set during one playthrough and watched my completion tracker tick up — those bones get recorded to your save, so they vanish for good from the map in that save file. That said, you can always recover them if you load an earlier manual save from before you picked a specific bone. I've used that trick when I wanted to photograph a spot or grab a bone for a screenshot. Also, a heads-up: if the bone feels like it vanished or fell through terrain, reloading an earlier save or restarting the game often fixes the glitch. I usually consult a community map if I miss one, but I treat them like rare trophies now — once they're in my collection, they're mine, permanent and satisfying.

I get a kick out of hunting down little mysteries in games, and the thing about dinosaur bones in 'Red Dead Redemption 2' is that the game doesn’t hand them to you with a big glowing UI marker. In the single-player story you don’t get any special gadget that automatically reveals bones; you have to rely on your eyes, patience, and a few practical in-game tools. Binoculars are the MVP here — they let you scan ledges, riverbanks, and rocky outcrops from a safe distance without trampling past a bone and never noticing it. I also use the camera/photo mode when I stumble across suspicious shapes; taking a picture helps me confirm if that pale shape is actually a bone or just a bleached rock. Another practical trick is just to change the time of day and lighting. Midday bright light or the long shadows of late afternoon make white bones pop out more, and turning HUD elements off for a minute helps me see small details. In contrast, if you’re playing 'Red Dead Online', the Collector role unlocks a metal detector that can really speed things up for buried collectibles — but in solo story mode, there’s no magic detector. Ultimately it’s about environment reads: check caves, cliff bases, river shelves, and the edges of old camps. I love the low-key treasure-hunt feeling when one of those white edges finally reveals itself to me.

The Onyx Lords in 'Elden Ring' are some of the more mysterious and intriguing enemies you'll encounter. Primarily, they occupy the regions of the Mountaintops of the Giants and the Consecrated Snowfield. I mean, these places are drenched in lore and atmosphere that just pull you in. Their dark, unsettling presence adds depth to their haunting environments, almost as if they’re guardians of something deeply ancient and powerful. I remember my first encounter with one of these lords; the way the area was lit by the moonlight, casting eerie shadows that danced around. The Onyx Lords are such imposing figures, with that dark, regal clothing and the powerful, otherworldly abilities that make you really think about strategy in a way that’s quite different from other enemies. They often utilize powerful magic attacks, catching you off-guard if you become too complacent. There’s just something incredibly satisfying about defeating them, feeling that rush of accomplishment when you find those clever strategies to turn the tide in battles that feel almost impossible at times. If you explore deeper, you might also stumble across the slight but impactful connections these bosses share with other characters and lore within the game, adding a layer of interconnectedness that makes 'Elden Ring' such a joyful experience for lore enthusiasts like me.

The Onyx Lords in 'Elden Ring' are such a fascinating encounter! They're like a breath of fresh air among the universe’s many formidable foes. What sets them apart from other bosses is their unique blend of speed and power, which can catch players off guard. Unlike some of the more hulking bosses that rely on heavy, lumbering attacks, the Onyx Lords are agile and can swiftly dodge your strikes. It feels like you’re battling a shadow or a wraith rather than a traditional boss. Their teleportation abilities really ramp up the challenge, giving you that nail-biting feeling—you never know where they’ll appear next. I’ve faced them multiple times, and each encounter felt fresh and intense. For example, while the Tree Sentinel is undeniably tough due to its sheer resilience and high damage output, the Onyx Lords keep you on your toes with their unpredictability. It's almost like a dance! You have to learn their patterns well because one wrong move can lead to you facing a swift demise. The atmosphere during the fight is also different; many bosses are tied deeply to their lore, while the Onyx Lords have this mysterious, shadowy vibe. You can feel the weight of the world around you when battling them, which makes the victory that much sweeter. Every playthrough has its surprises, as they often drop unique loot that makes the grind worthwhile, adding a layer of excitement that keeps me coming back for more. Overall, their combo of speed, agility, and mystery adds a unique flavor to the boss roster in 'Elden Ring' that I absolutely adore!

who handled the full soundtrack. He leans into a cinematic-industrial palette: heavy low strings, distorted synth textures, and an almost liturgical choir that makes the battle scenes feel ritualistic. The theme song, called 'King of Sorrow', is a collaboration between Marlowe and vocalist Maya Vale; he composed the music and arranged the orchestration while Maya wrote and performed the lyrics, giving the piece that aching human center amid the thunderous score. What I love about this pairing is how consistent the audio identity is across the whole project. Marlowe reuses melodic fragments from 'King of Sorrow' as leitmotifs, so when a minor chord progression surfaces during a quiet scene you get that spine-tingle recognition. The production credits also list a small group of session players — a brass quartet, a percussionist specializing in metallic timbres, and a female choir — which explains the organic-but-gritty sound. Personally, I keep going back to the theme because it feels like a compact story: grandeur, regret, and a punch of catharsis that sticks with me.

Whenever people ask whether 'Lords of Chaos' is true, I get a little excited because it’s one of those messy, fascinating blurbs of history that sits between journalism and myth-making. The book 'Lords of Chaos' (by Michael Moynihan and Didrik Søderlind) is a nonfiction account of the early Norwegian black metal scene and the real events around bands like Mayhem, and people such as Euronymous, Varg Vikernes, Dead, and Necrobutcher. The 2018 film 'Lords of Chaos' is explicitly adapted from that book, so both are rooted in actual crimes and sensational moments—church burnings, murder, and extreme ideology. But neither is a straight documentary: the book has been criticized for sensationalism and occasional factual errors, and the film dramatizes, condenses, and invents scenes for narrative effect. If you want the truth in the strictest sense, read court records, contemporary news reports, and multiple accounts. If you want a gripping portrait that captures the atmosphere (with some inaccuracies and bold artistic choices), both the book and the movie give you that. I tend to treat them like historical fiction built on a very dark real scaffold—compelling, occasionally unreliable, and best consumed with a healthy dose of skepticism.

Back when the book 'Lords of Chaos' first hit shelves, I was sipping bad coffee and flipping pages in a tiny cafe, and I could feel why people got riled up. On one level it reads like true-crime tabloid: arson, murder, church burnings, extreme posturing — all the ingredients that make headlines and upset local communities. People accused the authors of sensationalizing events, cherry-picking lurid quotes, and giving too much attention to the perpetrators' rhetoric without enough context about victims and the broader culture that produced those acts. What made things worse is that the story kept evolving into a film, and adaptations often compress nuance for drama. Survivors and members of the Norwegian black metal scene pushed back, saying characters were misrepresented or portrayed with a kind of glamor that felt irresponsible. There were legal tussles and public feuds, and some readers complained that a complex historical moment was simplified into shock value. I still think the book and movie sparked necessary conversations about ethics in storytelling — but I also wish they'd centered affected communities more and resisted the appetite for spectacle.