Solid response, Unseeingeye. Kudos. I'll try and provide another viewpoint.
Whether or not that is lazy I couldn't say, I don't know enough about the man or the team to form an opinion but given the interconnected complexity of those details to be found in the many particulars supplementary to the broader mythopoeia and considering that they aren't riddled with unintentional contradictions (at least to my knowledge), I would guess probably not.
I'll fully admit the reasons I call that approach to storytelling lazy remains somewhat hazy and unformed in my mind, not fully graspable; I've never actually tried to come to a definite conclusion as to why I consider it such. And, sadly, it is intrinsically linked to the fact I can not engage with the story in any meaningful manner.
Mostly I think it comes from a definite inconsistency in how carefully the worlds of those games are crafted. I'll try to proffer a couple of examples.
The first would be in my post you quote, that of the ember-holding statues can be found in Dark Souls 1. They are identical in every single detail to Andre the blacksmith—so surely, if the world is well thought out, is possessed of interconnected complexity, well then the likeness of these statues
must mean something. But no, they do not; they are placeholders that were never replaced.
I think it's fair to call that lazy.
A second one would be in Dark Souls 3. When I first made my way into the highest parts of Lothric Castle, while I fought the Dragonslayer Armor, I could see lining the balustrade small statues of a weird aspect and mien. Upon closer inspection after the fight, I immediately recognised they represented primordial serpents, such as Frampt and Kaathe from DS1, but with a sort of cape, and little feathery wings jutting from their shoulders. And reading the descriptions of various items I collected along my adventure, and scrutinizing the environment, I had learned of supposed angels, and in the room were takes place the fight against Lothric and Lorian the floor was verily carpeted with white feathers.
So, what is the story? Have the primordial serpents somehow conned men and lords into thinking of them as angels? To what end? What does it all mean? Well, it means nothing. We now know, from interviews, that at one point during development it had been decided a primordial serpent would surge from under the floor or come crashing through the windows while fighting Lothric and Lorian. Then, for unknown reasons the plans were changed, the idea was dropped—but the work done so far (the statues and feathers and talks of angels) was left there, as is.
Again, I think it's fair to call that lazy. It puts me in mind of a bad wannabe-writer of fantasy who has no plan whatsoever while writing his novel, is just jumping from one idea to the next, sometimes connecting one with another, but eventually abandons most ideas to the benefit of new ones. And when he's finished writing his novel, he doesn't bother with a second draft; he his content to leave all the threads unlinked and unfinished, no matter they are now deprived of sense.
You mention the details in these games "aren't riddled with unintentional contradictions." But how could they? Too often said details, which are the shadows of concepts of uncogent ideas, mean nothing—and how could nothing contradict nothing?
We can see that by perusing through the various fan theories anent various aspects of the games' stories. Starting with the same tidbits of informations, regularly people can, convincingly, come to opposite conclusion as to what it all might mean (which is entirely by design on the producers' part, if I'm not mistaken). And if conclusion A is equally plausible as conclusion B, but A and B stand opposite one another, then it can mean everything; and if something can mean everything, I'd argue that it truly means nothing.
The present-tense story we engage with is almost entirely secondary to the work that went into the environmental details, for me. I'm only slightly interested in the fates of the demigods, empyreans and my own character, because for me the enjoyment comes from learning about the past of the Lands Between, just as history is my real-life focus.
Ah, see, now that's interesting! With that I can understand and come to appreciate why—or more precisely
how—someone can enjoy that manner of storytelling.
Because I have a diametrically opposed approach to playing such games: I want to
engage with the story. I do not want to merely spectate (for that, I have rows upon rows upon rows of books). I want to ask questions and participate, as I think would befit a video game which by definition is an interactive experience.
I have what I think is a couple of solid examples of that.
First, the happenings surrounding Sellen in Elden Ring. How properly infuriating! the way FromSoft's storytelling combines with the lack of possible interaction on the player's part. I see Sellen under the Waypoint Ruins, and I can talk with her (or rather:
she can talk
at me); but also I found another Sellen evidently kept prisoner under the Witchbane Ruins; and finally I have found yet another, third Sellen behind two illusory walls near Ranni's Tower. I can see all that, but I can't
do anything about it, and in fact I can't so much as ask her or anyone about it.
Second, Ranni's and her cohort's search for Nokron. I had explored the Siofra River before hearing of Nokron. Then I was tasked with finding the eternal city. And at one point, via one of the Four Belfries, I actually went to a very small part of Nokron, where I fought a Crucible Knight I had earlier seen in the distance but could not reach. After this I couldn't wait to go back to Ranni, Blaidd, Iji, or Seluvis, to share information. But I can't. Again, I can see it all—but I might as well not even exist, so inexistent is my involvement in this world.
For a series of games often praised for their supposedly brilliant version of 'show, don't tell,' I sure am told a whole lot of things, but I, in turn, can't tell nor show anyone a single thing. People rave about the way these games draw them in with their wonderful, immersive worlds; yet here I am, perhaps more conscious than ever before that these are games, and I'm here, sitting in my chair, controller in hand, wishing but wholly unable to be a part of these worlds.