Content warnings. Suicide ideation in first few paragraphs.
I've always been a firm believer that games can have a positive effect on players' lives, and I suppose the past few weeks I've proven myself right, even if it's been thanks to unfortunate circumstances.
I haven't written in a month. Before starting this article, I couldn't bring myself to scratch out even the faintest ideas no matter how badly I wanted to write about them. It felt too meaningless in the face of what had happened in my personal life as of late. Why bother jotting down notes for an article I may not even be alive to write? My head was already full of suicidal thoughts and a certainty I was a burden to everyone I've ever known for being saddled with mental illnesses that complicate every aspect of my life when I ran away from home about a month ago. Days later I came face to face with both the results of the presidential election (please pray for marginalized folks in the United States, if you're the praying type) and my first truly painful breakup. My life, it seemed, was over, and I considered making that ending official on several occasions. I never made an attempt on my life, but I didn't make an attempt at much else, either. I stayed almost exclusively in bed for a week and a half, so depressed I was hardly aware of what was happening most of time beyond my constant urge to die.
And yet, I'm still here. I'm still breathing and eating and posting blurry pictures of my pets to Twitter. I made it in one piece, even if things aren't exactly easy. When you're so close to taking your own life, sometimes you just need a distraction, something that takes your mind off things and, when you're not looking, tugs you a few steps farther away from the edge of the cliff. That's what I found, and that's what kept me alive.
I'm sure that if I told many people, they would have to try not to chuckle a little, but here's the truth: Tomodachi Life -- a sequel to the Japanese life and community sim Tomodachi Collection and spiritual predecessor to the mobile app Miitomo -- prevented me from ending my own life. Tomodachi Life's strong game design and quirky charm is satisfying to demographics wider than just that of severely depressed people, but there is something about it that makes it perfect for people who need to be pulled away from that cliff by a little distraction.
Tomodachi Life is a game where the player can only do good. You can improve the lives of your islanders, and that's it. You can only improve them. Feeding them, giving them gifts, dressing them up, playing games with them, and helping them start and manage relationships with other Miis will make them happier, but there is no real way to harm your islanders. Failure on the player's part to complete tasks has no effect on the islanders, and disappearing for a while (the game is in real-time and the time does count) leads to just a comment from islanders, free of any guilt-inducing distress or anger. Tomodachi Life also manages to balance the amount of tasks islanders present to players very well, hitting that responsibility sweet spot between boredom and overflow to create fun and rewarding gameplay. Additionally, the price and payout of caring for Miis balances well, presenting players with enough cash that they don't have to fret over their empty wallets too often (and if they do find their wallets empty, they don't have to feel guilty about being unable to complete certain tasks thanks to the do-no-harm system), but not so much that the money does not become devalued and lose its status as a reward.
Beyond keeping players interested and engaged, the carefully-weighted balances in place in Tomodachi Life make it a near-perfect distraction and soothing agent for depressed players. By allowing players to take on just the right amount of responsibility without being overwhelmed and preventing them from causing harm to others, the game can at least temporarily prevent players from feeling they are useless, burdensome, inadequate, harmful, etc. (this is a huge challenge for many people during depressive episodes). Tomodachi Life gives players a sense of purpose and rewards them for it without punishing them for not doing as well as others might, and as such can be a small but bright spot in the dark for depressed people.
The overarching and often difficult to explain draw of life and community sims as a genre yields yet another benefit to players with depression. Just as in other sims like Animal Crossing, players relax and interact with a community of friendly characters that will almost always be happy to see them and are apt to praise their actions. Though it may be a subtle touch, the kindness and sense of belonging made accessible to players in games like this can help temporarily alleviate some loneliness, a troubling feeling that many struggle with during depressive episodes, and Tomodachi Life is no exception.
Community aspects aside, the game's atmosphere is very playful and friendly, offering a reprieve from the stress and anxiety of the real world. The cartoony visuals of the Miis and their environments are inviting and colorful, and the occasional mix of photorealism into this style emphasize a sort of silly lightheartedness. It's easy to get lost in the uplifting world of Tomodachi Life.
On top of that, the game is full of what can only really be described as fun and charming almost-chaos. After all, it was marketed on how interesting creating Mii versions of people you know would turn out to be, with the slogan "Your friends. Your drama. Your life." written right across the front of the packaging. I found drama was less prevalent than the slogan led me to initially suspect (fights and love confessions are pretty rare) but there is a surprising amount of ridiculousness packed into just this one little game. Between the fashion disasters, witty item descriptions, the option to write musicals for your Miis to perform, and the nearly endless number of wacky couples that can get together in-game, Tomodachi Life is just plain silly. It's this charm that draws players in, depressed or otherwise, and keeps them playing.
As with any game (and any way of dealing with depression), Tomodachi Life is far from perfect. It's quirky nature alone may make it too weird for some players to enjoy, and it certainly has its flaws. Luckily, the majority of these flaws are easily avoided or ignored.
The first is actually a result of the comfortable balance of responsibility in the game: because there aren't consequences for not playing, it's easy to pass it up for more exciting games. The upside, however, is that once you've put it down for awhile, it's easy to pick up for just the same reasons.
The second flaw of this category is the existence of babies. Sure, it's a fun way to add a new layer of gameplay (and a new islander) to the game, but they can be stressful to deal with. Rocking them to sleep is tedious, and the cries can be overwhelming for many. Plus, who wants to be that guy and go into the settings and delete that poor kid when it gets to be too much? Luckily, there's an option to turn off babies, even if it isn't presented outright and takes some looking. My most recent island I turned babies off immediately, and it's been a godsend. Believe me. Turn off babies.
The third flaw is the quality of the minigames. They're kind of fun, but get boring after a while, and some of them are pretty unfair. The good news is you don't actually have to play them if you don't want to, and even if you do decide to play them, they're short and you can end up with a nifty reward if you do well.
Though the rest are forgivable, there's one big flaw that should not be overlooked -- that's why it's actually been addressed many times by players, critics, and even Nintendo. Same-gender couples cannot exist in the game (outside of some unintentional bugs in the Japanese release), eliminating the possibility of same-gender attracted people being represented properly in-game and stirring up plenty of controversy. Nintendo has since clarified they hadn't intended to exclude same-gender attracted people, and intend to include same-gender couples in future Tomodachi games, as the current game would require too large a patch for such a change. It helps knowing that the company has learned from the controversy and that future games will be better if and when they are released, but at the same time, it's a little uncomfortable to be swept under the rug, especially when the game's motto claims it's meant to mirror your own life and then fails to truly take that life into consideration. That said, though it's disenchanting, it's something I can play around.
Despite its flaws, Tomodachi Life is a fun, rewarding quirk of a game, and makes players feel good, even if only temporarily. It's a title worth playing, especially if you're working through depression and need a little relief. It's not a silver bullet, but it might just help you feel a little better for a while.