A few days ago, I went through an emotional moment, not directly my own, but involving a friend of the family. It was one of those situations that makes you stop and think about grief, about difficulty, and about how we deal with those moments when life doesn’t go the way we expect.
When something like that happens, people respond in different ways. Some shut down. Others try to stay busy. Some go outside, take walks, or try to reconnect with the world around them. And then there are those who stay inside, not quite ready to face everything all at once, but still needing something to help them process what they’re feeling.
That’s where my mind went.
I started thinking back to the pandemic. That time when everything stopped, when we were all suddenly confined to our homes, dealing with uncertainty, stress, and a lot of quiet moments with our thoughts. And I realized something about myself.
I was lucky.
Because right before everything shut down, in February of 2020, I had made a simple decision. I decided to go back to gaming after almost ten years away. I picked up a Nintendo Switch, thinking it would just be a way to relax, maybe revisit something I used to enjoy.
I had no idea how important that decision would become.
When the pandemic hit in March and we were all stuck inside, that small choice turned into something much bigger. Like everyone else, I felt that cabin fever. That restlessness. That sense of being stuck. But I also had something that helped me manage those feelings.
I had my Switch.
And more specifically, I had Pokémon Sword.
Now, I’ll be honest. It’s not the best Pokémon game. And as someone who grew up with the series, I’ve realized that the traditional RPG style doesn’t always fit into my adult life the way it used to. Time is different now.
But during the pandemic, I had time.
And that game gave me something I needed. At night, when sleep didn’t come easily, I would find myself exploring the Galar region, catching Pokémon, moving through the story, just being somewhere else for a while. It wasn’t about escaping reality completely. It was about managing it. About giving my mind space to breathe.
It helped.
And that got me thinking.
If a game like that could help me through a difficult time, how many other people had similar experiences?
So I reached out.
I invited other writers and readers to share a moment where a video game helped them through something meaningful in their lives. What they sent back wasn’t just about games. It was about grief, stress, illness, change, and the different ways we all try to move forward.
Here are their stories.
FriedBiscuits from YouTube
Before Covid, I would say there was this moment in my life where I was very nihilistic. I was very bitter about every aspect of life, it seemed. At the time, both my grandmas died pretty close to each other. To say it affected me greatly would have been an understatement. I was fighting at home all the time, and when I was out at work, I would fight there too. By “fighting,” I mean verbal arguments and lashing out verbally. It wasn’t great, and I was increasingly isolating myself from friends and family.
Now, there was a game that I had zero intention of playing, mostly because, in my current state of being, I loathed the fandom and the memes. The game in question was Undertale. I’m not sure why, but I was gifted the game on Steam. It was from a friend of mine that I haven’t spoken to in a while, but I greatly respected their opinion on games. The message that was left with the gift was, “I have no words for you, just play this game.”
The game changed my outlook on media and games as a whole, but not only that, I found myself not being so nihilistic anymore. I started to be more accepting of people, even if I didn’t realize it. I wasn’t so nasty anymore, and I think it made me realize how much I genuinely love a good story, how I love the characters of that story. In short, it’s like Undertale helped me remember something.
That things did matter to me. There was a reason I was so moved by the characters and the story, to the point I could never even bring myself to do a genocide run, because I couldn’t bear to see the characters I loved so much in pain. That things always mattered to me, maybe a little too much, and to move on with my life and accept the things I can’t change and change the things I can.
I know I could never bring my grandparents back, but I can accept the life they lived and the love we shared and move on. So when you asked me a question, if video games ever got me through a tough or meaningful moment in my life, I can unequivocally say yes, it most certainly has.
Evan C. Moore from Play Moore.
I owe quite a lot to Horizon Forbidden West: Burning Shores.
Three years ago, I hit a really low point. I’ve had panic attacks most of my life. During a particularly difficult time in April 2023, I had them consistently and couldn’t find a way out. I wasn’t eating. I enjoyed nothing.
I was part of the way into my second playthrough of HFW, and the “Burning Shores” DLC was about to come out. It took everything I had to play again, but I did. I spent a couple dozen hours over a few weeks guiding Aloy through her story. Upon the DLC’s release, I was ready to embark to the new area for a new adventure. Going to the DLC area for the first time was pure magic. I got to relax, overcome difficulty, explore, and escape.
And it worked. I had to reinvent myself with the confidence that I could still tap into something I love. After that April, I doubled down on games and play. I got on some medication and found a great therapist. I felt like myself again.
fawn from thoughts & trinkets
When Gris was first added to my Steam library in 2018, I was in a very dark hole. I had given up on hope, and I was just waiting for my end of the line. I launched the game for the first time, and in under a minute, I was in tears. It felt so good. I didn’t know what message the developers were trying to portray yet, but I knew it was for me.
In Gris, you play as Mae, a girl who has lost her voice and whose world has quite literally fallen from under her feet. Accompanied by what, to me, is the most powerful game soundtrack by Berlinist, you navigate the world, regaining Mae’s color and voice. The beautiful thing about Gris is that it’s about whatever you want it to be about, and in that time, it gave me much-needed hope. It pushed me to get out of the hole. It helped me save myself.
Fast forward to my mother’s passing in 2025: I replayed the game, and suddenly it wasn’t about depression. It was about grief. Gris held me close and tight in the time I had to navigate that loss by myself. It has remained a love letter and a vessel of hope.
Mo from from Retro Mo - Game Reviews
Chrono Trigger was there for me many years ago when I was very sick. I was about 11 years old, and I had contracted whatever nasty virus was going around rural Kansas at the time. It was one of the worst bouts of sickness I can remember from my childhood. I missed at least a week of school.
I was so weak I could hardly do anything. My throat was so sore, I couldn’t talk, and it hurt to swallow. Like a sack of potatoes, I sank into the recliner in our living room, sipping water through a straw and playing Chrono Trigger.
I escaped into this incredible fantasy world, able to muster up just enough energy to keep up with the Active Time Battle system. Thanks to Chrono Trigger, what could have been one of the worst weeks of my childhood became one of my favorite memories.
ROP from ROP’s Passions
There was a period when work felt like a constant uphill sprint—heavy workloads, daily deadlines, and so much stress and pressure that even my free time felt… heavy. I needed to relax, but nothing worked. Slower, cozy games couldn’t hold my attention, and even my usual stress-relief old-school shooters, like Serious Sam, felt like too much. I was too tired to aim, too restless to unwind.
Then, somehow, I stumbled onto Clustertruck.
I don’t remember why I picked it. Maybe I wanted something simple, almost childish… it’s basically a “floor is lava” game, but with trucks. And what I found was… unexpected chaos. Fast, unpredictable, ridiculous chaos. Jumping from one wildly moving truck to another, barely holding on, failing, retrying… and laughing.
No story. No pressure. Just pure gameplay and pure joy. It was exactly what I needed.
I didn’t need to think too much, so it cut through the exhaustion. It was fast enough to burn off stress and simple enough not to overwhelm. Every run was messy, unexpected, and always hilarious, on the brink of comedy.
I remember it dearly. A game I never expected to have such an impact and to be one I would replay many times since.
Maddie from Maddie The Game Traveller
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. It’s a recent game, you probably heard the name a lot last year. This game was probably the best distraction while still being present in my partner’s life.
Last year in April, my partner shared something deeply personal with me. This was an amazing moment and I was so proud, but I knew a lot of change was coming, and that scared me. I’m the kind of person who would wear the same thing every day, keep a routine to make sure I didn’t forget to do something. Change is hard.
A month later, it was our anniversary, and I had been hearing about this game for a while and wanted to try it. We started the game, and we were blown away by the music, world, and characters. It was absolutely charming.
This game took us months to play, but we never stopped talking about the topics it tackled about reality and family. It gave me something to think about while being present in my partner’s life. We experienced something together without the weight of the world. This gave me a moment of peace while trying to figure out what to do next.
Tobias James from GameThink
Just like many of my peers, my formative years were spent on Call of Duty. I have since moved on, but I will always cherish my early memories with the series, especially Black Ops 3 in particular.
I will always remember the excitement I felt on Christmas Eve of 2015, opening my very own PS4 alongside a copy of Black Ops 3. That same night, I recorded my first attempt on the new Zombies map, Shadows of Evil, and every time a new DLC dropped thereafter, I was up at 4 a.m. to livestream before school. By the time Zombies Chronicles released, I had amassed a community of over 1,000 subscribers on YouTube, all of whom shared the same passion for the game that I did.
This took place during a turbulent time in my home life, but Black Ops 3 gave me something to look forward to. Despite my dad’s constant protesting, I continued creating, and it helped shape who I am today. I learned that there were like-minded people out there.
I wasn’t alone.
Back To Me
After reading through these, one thing becomes clear.
We all cope differently.
There isn’t a single correct way to deal with grief, loss, or difficult moments in life. Some people go outside. Some people talk. Some people create. And some people pick up a controller and step into another world for a while.
And that’s okay.
Video games aren’t always the negative escape they’re sometimes made out to be. Like anything else, it depends on how we use them. In the right space, at the right time, they can offer comfort, structure, connection, and even healing.
What matters is that we find something that helps us move forward.
Not to avoid what we’re feeling, but to process it, little by little, in a way that works for us.
—- Prof. Rock
I want to thank everyone who collaborated with me on this article. Here are their Substacks so you can quickly subscribe if you want to read more interesting thoughts from them.
You can follow FriedBiscuits over on BlueSky, X and on YouTube!
Once again Thanks for reading!
Wow so many lovely stories about the effects of games on our lives. 🥰 I love this little community
A great article and collaboration! If you do another one of these, I'd love to be a part of it ( Octopath Traveler 2 and Silent Hill 2 got me through some wild times).