Play and peace
The surprising non-violence of video games
It’s been two years of trying to re-acquaint myself with rest: its value, quality and, critically, how to do it. I’ve written here before about the books I’ve read on the subject and rest experiments we’ve undertaken in the home. I’ve committed to re-learning the patient uselessness of hobbies - simply enjoying an activity for the sake of it. Two childhood habits have been re-awakened: video and board games.
Believe me, I’m trying to figure out how to write about board games without becoming too niche of a blog that alienates its intellectual, vulnerable, emotionally existential readership (yeah, I’m talkin’ about you - I love you) (but also if anyone wants to talk to me about Magic: The Gathering, Ark Nova, Final Girl, Wingspan, Everdell, hit me up).
Here’s the main thrust though: video and board games give me a sense of peace. It is entirely different to the fraught, over-stimulating sensation of playing games as a young person. As I’ve played more as an adult, I’ve been shocked at the amount of negative space now available in video games. There is a surprising respect towards nature, contemplative puzzling, and often minimalist aesthetics that is a downright balm for the soul.
When I talk to adult non-gamers, they often feel intimidated by the twin-stick twitchy shooters that popularise so much of mainstream tween gaming. A whole other world awaits. TikTok and millennial gamers are drenched in a sub-genre defined as ‘cosy’ games. I could take or leave a lot of these titles, but some of them are beautifully crafted and often rely on a simple, cosy piece of management. You are tasked with looking after a woodland bed and breakfast (Bear and Breakfast), chaperoning magical creatures into the afterlife on a houseboat that you build (Spiritfarer), or simply crafting an island paradise (Animal Crossing: New Horizons). In these titles, controls are simple and tutorials are gentle.
Personally, I can’t stop returning to Red Dead Redemption 2. Not only because of its excellent story-telling and in-depth gameplay mechanics, but for the simple beauty of its great cowboy, pre-industrial world. A fake frontier America awaits, gorgeously embellished with natural soundscapes and great open plains. It’s easy to get lost out hunting in the woods, preparing simple dinners for yourself over an open, warm fire.
Or even in the chaotic open-shooter Fortnite, one of the most popular video games in the world. You are thrown into an open world with 100 other players and try to survive the longest. It’s fun, and incredibly wonderful with friends. It’s also free to play. But that premise doesn’t denote the long minutes that pass in relative silence in Fortnite, as you explore abandoned corners of the map for guns, ammo and armour. The tension slowly builds, but it is truly a game of mostly waiting patiently in big, open spaces. The times I’ve played with my friends, we talk as if we were meeting for a coffee. Even though it’s a shooter and we’re fighting to the death, the game feels peaceful and easy.
There are logistical hurdles in being a working father and playing video games. In the last six months, I’ve become more at ease with using the Nintendo Switch, and have purchased a PS Portal, allowing my gaming to become mobile. I’ve dipped in and out of amazingly epic narrative experiences (like Baulder’s Gate 3 or Elden Ring), and have found more comfort in games that are easier to pick up and put down. These include the endlessly addictive Balatro: a simple card game based on the mechanics of poker. Or Hades, a beautifully rich rogue-like that sees a child of Hades battling with endless swarms of enemies to escape the Underworld, with the assistance of various Greek Gods.
At the moment, I’m playing Dredge. I play as a simple fisherman on the open seas, dredging up shipwrecks and sea life for a cast of characters that grow in Lovecraftian horror. But again, most of the time is spent cruising on an open ocean, collecting fish, driving back to shore, upgrading my boat, going back out…
I am slowly reminding myself of how to engage in play. The stakes are low. The activity feels spacious. Time slips away as I enter into a state of flow. I discover and experiment. My brain had forgotten many of these essential skills. To say it’s integral to healing and well-being is no joke. Play on.
Leave a comment with your video game recommendations and reflections. I talk most explicitly about video games in this past post.
Thanks Dave for sharing your thoughts about gaming. As a non-gamer, I always found gaming worlds alienating until I read Tomorrow, and Tomorow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. It has given me greater appreciation for the intricate narrative worlds game designers build, and through reading the novel, I’ve taken a step back from thinking my son’s gaming addiction to be a complete waste of time. Nowadays, we discuss gaming context and narrative - can thoroughly recommend the novel for a seasoned gamer such as yourself!