SPARE LIVES
How RPGs and simulation games became the antidote to my failures.
I have to admit that I found, and continue to find, a massive escape in the video game industry. I got a taste of this incredibly dense world from a very young age.
My earliest experiences were limited to Flash games. The website Friv comes back to me with absolute clarity; it was a goldmine for the little boy I was, someone who knew nothing of that universe. Consoles? Multiplayer? I hadn't a clue. At that age, I already thought I’d reached the pinnacle of entertainment just by cycling through a dozen small daily games.
And then, there was that one day. During a wedding, I accidentally "borrowed"—which is to say, stole—a Nintendo DS from a kid I’d actually been getting along with all day. Inside was Pokémon Black. In the moment, I was fully aware that I was doing something wrong. But deep down, I also knew I had just opened a door; I had stolen what would become one of the pillars of my survival for every time my world started to crack.
I grew up through dozens of franchises. I could talk about my obsession with CS:GO or Team Fortress, my sleepless nights under the covers with the sound muted to hunt for Shinies in Pokémon, or the sound of controllers smashing against my apartment walls because of Dark Souls.
But the heart of my sanctuary lies in role-playing games (RPGs) and simulation games. Why this visceral attraction? Because through the screen, I can contemplate all the alternative lives I could have had—the ones that vanished along with my hopes.
Take NBA 2K, for example, a series I’ve been grinding since the 2017 edition. For someone who plays basketball in real life, it’s an incredible feeling to live out a dream career: the high school years, the fervor of the NBA Draft, and those championship rings weighing down your hands season after season. The game lets me build a dream legacy, stripped of the fear and doubt of failing.
I also have a particular soft spot for Crusader Kings and Football Manager. These management games offer infinite choices. For someone living with ADHD, it’s therapy. I literally drool over these screens filled with boxes, statistics, and tabs. I love this suffocating density of information. It channels my focus, lets me escape, and allows me to step into the shoes of these leaders. For a few hours, I have the illusion of accomplishing great things.
Today, these simulations are at the center of how I play. Whenever anxiety rises or the opportunity arises, the mechanism is always the same: I unplug the cable connecting my mind to reality, and I plug in another to forge a new one.