Playing Video Games during the Pandemic to Control the Uncontrollable
Sarah Gzemski
after Luigi’s Mansion 3
There is no beautiful way to tell you I’m depressed. Faced with so many compounding
horrors, my body sets to slow fade, a phantom. I’ve been losing my days running headlong
into battles full of predictable violence. Rules set. Weapons provided. Each level one shade
harder than the last. This monotony is cold comfort, but at least my hands are busy.
Sometimes I need metaphors to deal with all the ghosts. I imagine being Luigi’s therapist
to help us both confront our trauma: Every room you’ve entered was a new opportunity
to die, but somehow, you’re still here. It’s okay to be afraid. The specter of death is
frightening, and how could either of us have known it would creep into every corner?
I say to my partner: Luigi is a mentally healthy man. What I mean is: He celebrates even
the smallest victories of being alive. The game is not over yet. Wahoo. Together, Luigi and I
are becoming the version of ourselves that approaches the sum of our hauntings, shaking in
our boots. Shining a steady light until they materialize, tangible and shrieking. Here we go.