Why Ludwig Was Right: Elden Ring Speedruns Have Become Cringe by 2026

I was scrolling through Twitch archives last night when I stumbled upon a clip from a Ludwig stream back in early 2022. He was watching an Elden Ring speedrun, and his reaction went from pure amazement to visible secondhand embarrassment within minutes. As someone who has sunk over 500 hours into the Lands Between across multiple playthroughs—and who still gets obliterated by Malenia on a regular basis—his verdict hit home: Elden Ring speedruns are cringe. Not in a gatekeeping, elitist way, but in a deeply disappointing, “where did the game go?” kind of way.

Ludwig’s initial curiosity was relatable. The any% record was slinking under seven minutes at the time—an absurd number that somehow shrinks further with each passing year. Even in 2026, that category hovers around four and a half minutes thanks to increasingly refined zip glitches and wrongwarps. I remember watching Distortion2’s run from that same era, the one Ludwig ultimately called cringe. The pace was frantic, the visual glitching spectacular. The zip—a physics exploit that launches the Tarnished across the map with a jittery, almost nauseating flicker—was the star of the show. Seeing Leyndell’s ashen rooftops flick past in a single frame genuinely made my jaw drop. Ludwig said it looked exciting because the visual chaos was novel. I agreed. For the first twenty seconds.

Then came the revelation. Distortion2 beat Maliketh, triggered the crumbling of Farum Azula, and warped back to Leyndell without ever swinging a weapon at a living enemy. Not one. No Margit, no Radahn, no Godfrey. The entire run consisted of menu glitches, fall damage cancels, and teleportation exploits that skipped every single encounter meant to define the journey. Ludwig rescinded his praise mid‑stream, calling the run unwatchable more than once.

He wasn’t wrong. That moment crystallized a growing sentiment within the community, one that has only intensified in the four years since. Speedrunning, at its core, should be a celebration of mastery—using finely honed reflexes, game knowledge, and decision-making to complete a challenge faster than anyone else. When I watch a Hollow Knight 112% run or a Sekiro Immortal Severance any%, I’m seeing a player dance through boss patterns, optimize routing, and execute pixel‑perfect movement. It’s thrilling because I can grasp the skill involved. The gameplay still resembles the game.

Elden Ring any% speedruns, however, have become a parade of exploits. Imagine explaining that world record to a newcomer: “They don’t fight bosses. They menu‑swap to wrong‑warp to the final area, trigger a cutscene, and the credits roll.” It’s technically impressive, sure, but it’s also a hollow experience. The essence of the game—the weight of exploration, the tension of combat, the narrative beats—evaporates the moment you realize the runner hasn’t even unsheathed their weapon.

This isn’t just armchair criticism. Viewer numbers and community discussions back it up. Back in 2022, Elden Ring speedrunning hit a peak of mainstream attention thanks to streamers like Ludwig reacting. By 2024, that hype had fractured. Glitchless categories surged in popularity, with runners finally treating the run like a boss rush rather than a wiki of engine bugs. The All Remembrances category, for instance, now demands that you actually fight the major bosses, and those runs regularly pull in higher concurrent viewership than the glitch-heavy any% attempts.

Let’s break down the emotional journey of watching a modern any% Elden Ring speedrun using a few cheeky emojis:

• 😲 “Wait, he just skipped Stormveil Castle entirely?”

• 🤔 “Is that falling animation intentional?”

• 🙄 “Another menu buffer, another teleport, another unloaded area…”

• 😴 “I’ve literally fallen asleep and the run is still just visual noise.”

Ludwig’s “cringe” label was perfect because it captures the awkward feeling you get when something that should be awe‑inspiring becomes tedious. It’s cringe not because the runners lack talent—Distortion2, Arham, and the rest are phenomenal executers of glitch mechanics—but because the product feels detached from the game we love. It’s like watching a concert violinist perform a beautiful piece, then realizing they’re only playing the backing track while their fingers madly press buttons that trigger sound effects. The skill differs, but the soul is gone.

I’ve heard the counterarguments. Speedruns are about pushing the boundaries of a game’s code. Glitch hunting is its own art form. The zip requires frame‑perfect inputs and deep memory manipulation. All true. But let’s not pretend that’s what makes watching someone “beat” Elden Ring compelling. The fantasy of the Tarnished rising from nothing, overcoming demigods through sheer grit, is what hooked millions of players. When the world record involves barricading yourself behind a fog wall and resetting the game’s memory state until the final boss just… dies, the fantasy shatters. You’re no longer watching Elden Ring. You’re watching someone deconstruct its filing system.

By 2026, the speedrunning community has made peace with this split. Major leaderboards feature separate tabs for any%, any% unrestricted (the old glitch‑allowed category), and glitchless. The unrestricted runs still grab headlines for their short times, but the glitchless runs have become the emotional core of the hobby. I watched a glitchless any% race at Summer Games Done Quick last year, and the crowd was electric. The runner died to Radagon once, adapted on the fly, and clutched the victory with a sliver of health. That was speedrunning at its finest—human skill under pressure, not a menu‑loading simulator.

So, was Ludwig right? Absolutely. As a player who adores Elden Ring for its atmosphere and brutal fairness, I find the zip‑driven any% runs cringe because they forfeit everything that makes the game special. They’re a fascinating technical oddity, a side dish best enjoyed in a five‑minute highlight reel. But as the main course of competitive speedrunning? They leave a bitter aftertaste. I’ll stick to watching someone parry Malenia to death with a wooden club any day.