Butterflies and Hurricanes

This morning my husband and I woke up with the Xbox controller between us—like it was our baby—snug and cradled. It was pretty clear I was gaming in bed the previous night until my eyelids became sandbags and gave in. 

That’s the thing with me. I don’t just play games. I adopt them. 

What am I playing, you ask? Well, it’s a game that got me back into gaming a few years ago. A gateway game, if you will. Let me give you some context first. 

I first played Life is Strange in 2017. I hadn’t played a video game in years. My then boyfriend (now husband) gave it to me as a birthday gift. 

I loved playing video games as a kid and a teenager, but at 26, I felt like I was too old for them. I’d spent hours playing Batman, Spiderman, Tekken, GTA—basically all the popular ones back in the day. And while they were fun back then, I felt like I had outgrown all of them in my 20s. 

Most of them were hyper masculine, except for something like Tomb Raider, but even that was for the male gaze. So I wasn’t particularly attracted to that sort of thing. I did enjoy American McGee’s Alice in Wonderland though. It was terrifying to me as a 15-year-old. 

And then, several years later, Life is Strange happened to me. 

Turns out, there are hundreds of games out there that offer the right blend of story, characters, music, and animation. Many of them make you feel an entire spectrum of emotions, and as a player making active choices in the story, you feel deeply invested. 

I’ve had the pleasure of playing scores of such games. In fact, games kept me sane through the pandemic. My favourites so far have been: The Walking Dead, A Plague Tale, and What Remains of Edith Finch. 

Anyway, back to Life is Strange. It’s a story about an awkward, introverted teenage girl who goes to a new school, reunites with her childhood best friend and realises she has the power to rewind time. And she can also predict the future. Kinda. And also go back in time. And also there’s a missing girl. And a storm is coming. And some dark things lurking. You get the idea. 

So I fell into it, head-first, ready to get my heart broken. Replaying it reminded me of all the emotions I’d felt the first time I’d played it. Oh, to be a sweet sixteen-year-old again. I got nostalgic about a pre-pandemic version of myself. 

And then there’s the post-gaming experience. Watching reviews, watching in-depth analysis of the story, easter eggs, interviews of the game makers. So many rabbit holes to fall into.

I have a feeling I’ll go back to this game in a few years, and get nostalgic about the current version of me. Maybe it’ll be a ritual. Who knows? 

Look, I wouldn’t say it’s a spectacular game. It’s got loopholes, the story is far from perfect, and the dialogue is cheesy at times. But there’s just something about it. It’s mushy and dark and lets you be someone else for a while. It’s the brilliant soundtrack, the characters, and the fact that I can be a teenager in a college again. Or maybe it reminds me of the time I was falling in love.

To quote a YouTuber I follow: “I honestly can’t even tell you if this game is good. I can’t even tell you if I liked it. But I think… I think I loved it?”

Sometimes that’s it. You can’t explain things. You can only feel them. 

P.S. You know that period when you’re done with dinner and you’re in bed but it isn’t bedtime yet? The golden hour? That’s when I’m at my best. And playing this game on cold, dark Berlin nights in my PJs brought so much comfort to my soul.

And while I look for my next game, I’ll just revel in its music, and be thankful I got to dip into the experience again.