Right now, I’m guessing a whole bunch of you are putting a lot of time into Animal
Crossing.
The talk I’ve seen surrounding New Horizons seems to focus on the fact that there really
couldn’t have been a better time for a game like this to release, given how utterly wild
and unpredictable and, well, scary things are right now.
In tough times, here is a game that, while far from mindless, provides people with a
comforting feeling of normalcy.
You can busy yourself with routine tasks during a period of unexpected downtime; watch numbers
go up without too much in the way of strenuous effort.
Hell, you can talk to people and make friends while you yourself might be feeling quite
lonely (which, look, I really hope you’re all doing OK out there, we’ll get through
this weirdness, just stay at home for now and keep washing those hands, thanks everyone).
Anyway, far be it from me to tell you that this is somehow not a valid way of coping
during all of this—it absolutely is and anything that gives you even a small amount
of comfort you should hold onto for all it’s worth.
I made a video earlier last year about racing games and how the purity of that action, the
lack of equivocation in start, go fast and finish first provided a compelling escape
from my own head during periods of extreme stress—I often rely on video games for pure
escapism, it’s a hugely valuable thing to me.
But lately, even with everything that’s been going on, I can’t help but notice it’s
a couple of other recently released, big name titles that have been demanding my attention
over the more overtly relaxing stuff I’d normally gravitate towards.
Games that are, shall we say, a little more intense.
The original Nioh was a game I adored but never got super far into it because the sheer
fury of its incredible combat system, the speed with which you would get cut down if
you weren’t 100% on your shit at all times was legitimately panic-inducing for me.
But here we have a sequel that retains all of that speed, that same fury (that might
actually be harder, up front at least) and suddenly I can’t get enough of it.
Make no mistake, I am abysmal at this game, and yet for some reason, not only do I keep
coming back to it, but I feel calmer coming away from it, like a weight has been lifted.
Same with DOOM Eternal, which might not be the most difficult game in the world, but
certainly builds upon the framework set by 2016’s entry with enough weapons and modifiers
and techniques to turn every encounter into a fraught, non-stop ballet of carnage; forcing
me to constantly switch up my strategy on the fly in a continual cycle of blasting through
my resources and desperately seeking out more, trying to maintain momentum with a million
enemies and projectiles on my tail, all amounting to me emerging from certain gunfights liiightly
physically shaking.
And like with Nioh 2, I’ve found this to be a weirdly therapeutic experience.
It’s inspired a spree of installing notoriously difficult games that might otherwise have
been too daunting, or revisiting titles I haven’t played in years because of the battle
scars they left me with.
I still plan on getting into Animal Crossing at some point, the racing games are always
there if I need them but suddenly, it seems, I’m a glutton for video game punishment.
But the question is… why?
Why add to my already heightened anxiety and existential dread with media that arguably
makes me feel more anxiety and dread?
Why do I find myself craving that challenge in this already challenging period?
Well it’s not like there isn’t precedent for this seemingly masochistic mindset in
other media.
The appeal of horror films, for example, for those suffering from some kind of stress or
anxiety is long documented, with some researchers going as far as to posit the phenomenon as
a form of exposure therapy; asserting that these films allow people to “vicariously
experience negative emotion in a controlled environment”—your brain can focus on the
bad stuff happening in front of your eyes, while very clearly recognising it as fictional.
You might experience a kind of catharsis as you transfer your fear and tension onto this
on-screen threat and, for lack of a better term, spend that negative, restless energy
built up inside you.
For me, it feels like challenging games (of whatever genre, really) are in a unique spot
to fulfil a similar purpose, but also maybe even go further in the benefits they offer.
The speed of a game like DOOM Eternal offer me those same feelings of tension and release
but in a far more concentrated, personalised form.
Unlike a horror film, I am directly experiencing these negative emotions of anxiety and fear—these
creatures are coming for a character that I inhabit rather than someone I merely watch—but
I’m also in direct control of the danger here.
I choose to immerse myself in it.
It is the height of controlled exposure to negative emotions and what’s more, in these
intense experiences, these are negative emotions that I am incentivised to overcome.
See, the same way many people might use time like this to pick up an instrument or learn
a language, these games represent a project of sorts—something I start off terrible
at, but can sense myself actively making progress in over time.
I have spent legitimately hours in the early game of Nioh 2, getting absolutely bodied
left and right by its unbelievably tough bosses, wondering in what possible reality I could
ever progress past them.
But then I’ll return to previous areas, ones that had me stuck on even regular enemies
for a not-insignificant amount of time, and suddenly I’m the one doing the bodying.
No matter how glacial that progress may seem, no matter how frustrating it might often be
to lose and lose and lose again, I am learning this game the more I play it.
It may not be some massively transferrable skill like learning carpentry or something,
but I can feel my reflexes getting faster here.
My brain is constantly engaged which, when stuck inside for prolonged periods of time,
can be as important as physical exercise.
These games might seem outright brutal at times, but as a result, they become training
exercises in calm, focused play.
Don’t become overwhelmed—this is all conquerable if you put your mind to it and if there was
ever a more important message for where we’re all at, I don’t know what it is.
All in, you might not be able to cope with such stressful experiences right now and that
is 100% fine—whatever gets you through.
The purpose of this piece isn’t to tell you “hey, if you’re really anxious, try
out this really stressful thing that will definitely help,” but more to suggest that
if you are finding that same kind of investment in these tough games during this time, you’re
not alone and there might be some legitimate psychological benefits in that mindset.
In thinking about my own experience battling mental health issues, it occurs to me that
the video I made last year about racing games discussed two in particular that were so absurd
as to allow me to confront my own weird anxieties that I couldn’t make sense of at the time.
Now though, it appears as if the whole world is submerged in absurdity—feelings of powerlessness
and inertia seem more universal than ever.
Like I say, escapism is valuable and distraction is a critical component of many people’s
recoveries but for me, right now, I guess I’ve felt the need to directly combat those
feelings that have so often led me into crippling depressive episodes.
When it comes to my own mental health issues, it seems that while every fibre of my being
is screaming at me to hunker down in my comfort zone, more demanding games give me the opportunity
to rip and tear myself out of it.
So I hope you all enjoyed this piece!
I’d just like to reiterate that this is based purely on my own experience and however
you choose to get through this weird time (as long as it involves staying inside, staying
safe and washing your hands) is A-OK by me.
I really hope you’re all doing OK.
I’d like to sincerely thank my patrons for making videos like this possible.
I know these are incredibly weird times so I am even more grateful for your support than
I normally am, if that’s even possible.
You absolutely allow me to keep doing this and rest assured I will be doing my damndest
to make it worth your while during this whole mess.
Other people’s content has helped me a great deal in times of stress and hopefully I can
help ease that a little for some of you.
Needless to say, if you feel you can support the show on Patreon, you’ll be directly
allowing me to continue and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.
You are the absolute best.
An extra special thank you to Mark B Writing, Artjom Vitsjuk, Lea Chinelo, Constantinos
Tsikinis, Henry Milek, Edward Clayton Andrews, Hibiya Mori, Rob, Bryce Snyder, Tommy Carver-Chaplin,
David Bjork, Lucas, Dallas Kean, William Fielder, my dad, Timothy Jones, TheNamlessGuy, Ham
Migas, Samuel Pickens, Shardfire, Ana Pimentel, Jessie Rine, Justins Holderness and Charlie
Yang.
And with that, this has been another episode of Writing on Games.
Thank you so much for watching, stay safe and I will see you next time.