To tackle complex feelings on life and death, should we be playing video games?

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It seems counter intuitive from the outset: playing a video game to better cope with grief? As an activity, video games are typically cast (more or less correctly) as a way to avoid important work—or, at best, as an indulgence once work/homework is done.

But such is the thesis of “To appreciate life in 2020, I can’t stop playing games about death,” a game review from LA Times critic Todd Martens. In it, Martens addresses the growing cache of video games that address the topic of mortality in a decidedly more sensitive way than “Sorry, you are out of lives.”

“I found these games more than simply interesting or unique in their approach [to death],” Martens wrote of the games he reviewed. “[They f]elt like a revelation, the sort of therapeutic reminders I’ve needed on how to find meaning in the day to day. I found life lessons, the danger and waste of our often selfish tendencies, and the miscommunication that too often occurs when we begin to devalue ourselves.”

Martens reviewed the following games (included is his commentary):

  • What Comes After: “[W}hile the interactive work grapples with self-harm, self-hate and a general lack of belief for better days, I found it to be a delightfully charming experience, a fanciful “A Christmas Carol"-like story about the importance of living.”

  • I Am Dead: “[E]xplores how a life’s passion doesn’t always have to be the romantic. We play as Morris Lupton, a small-town museum curator who died at 62. Amid the game’s shapeshifting watercolor art, we explore the minds of the living to learn about the ghosts that helped inform Lupton’s home city and his life.”

  • Spiritfarer: “The game doesn’t confront us with horror stories; [it] simply reminds us what it means to care for others and how we won’t succeed in doing so unless we also care for ourselves.”

  • Before I Forget: “[A] look at the effects of dementia…[w]alls drift away from us, music embraces us and what we discover isn’t pain but a life of wonder and the sense of accomplishment one can feel when embracing all it has to offer, good and bad.”

  • When the Past Was Around: “Eda (the game’s main character) is trying to find a balance between moving on and holding on, using sometimes abstract puzzles to highlight the tension in connection."

  • Hades: “[R}eminded me of my family’s wakes, in that it wasn’t until a relative died that I learned, say, what they studied in college.”

What Martens writes above shouldn’t be such a surprise. The scope of video games, and the creativity that’s gone into their development over the last few years, has helped them become the next frontier in entertainment. As a safe, sanitary substitute for a social gathering, they’re great not just for dealing with complex emotions but—in a pandemic year especially—for connecting with others, potentially revising the whole notion of community.

Indeed, this once-solitary experience could have massive social implications. Recently, virtual reality simulators allowed individuals to experience the awful effects of being subjected to racism. This groundbreaking application may well produce substantial progress in breaking down racial (and sexual) barriers, allowing whose who’ve been reluctant to address social inequalities to access empathy, and purpose.

But if we can address racism in these realms, why not grief? With at least a few more months of confinement to look forward to, compounded (for some) by the harshness of winter, it may be worth taking Martens at his word.

Perhaps this slate of video games is just what the CDC ordered. Give them a try, or suggest others in the comments, and tell us what your experiences have been with this new frontier in the processing of grief.

Bryan Kelly