Always Move Forward

“How do we explain Black Lives Matter to Mom and Dad? You know how they are.”

My sister and I were sitting in my bedroom back home. It’d been a few weeks into quarantine, and we’d been texting and talking constantly, trying to navigate our feelings, find ways to support the movement, and generally absorb what felt like the cultural conflagration of change and opportunity. Our lives have been particularly separated from Black lives, having lived in suburbs and gone to schools in neighborhoods with fewer Blacks than Asians. Nonetheless what we grew up loving, from arts and entertainment to sports and scholars, we recognized and owed our lives to Black lives: we hit up J. Cole every time he toured in LA; we stan Denzel Washington like he can do no wrong; we schedule our lives around the NBA calendar.

At the same time, we were experiencing the same friction and frustration many other Asian households did. My parents watch newsmedia incessantly. There’s this rigor of truth that the Nightly News has on Asian-American households that I have never been able to push them out of. For a while, because of work, they weren’t quite as tuned in, but now, since neither of them were working, they went through the laundry cycle of CNN, MSNBC, and whichever local network happened to be available. With Trump in power, it made it all too easy to sit there and consume whatever shitstorm of the day was being discussed, and so the habit was reborn. For them, the anchor was the truth, the sensationalism was reality.

I was a teenager the last time I asked them why they felt the news was so important. It was their duty to be informed, they said. The world is dangerous, and being informed is half the battle. Despite the truth in their sentiment though, I couldn’t get them to understand that being critical of the news was equally important. They bought in so long ago that even in an era of news flailing at Trump, they still took the anchor’s words as gospel.

And yet, as my parents watched people fight for their lives across the nation, they could not understand why it was so damn important. To my parents and other Asian immigrant families that had managed to find success and stability in the States, protest was uncivilized. After all, that success came from the system: refugee sponsorship paved the way to employment sponsorship, leading to opportunities to become a skilled workforce that paid well enough for a family to do more than survive. My parents did not see that there was a conscious decision from a post-Vietnam government that allowed them to get the work they did, when those opportunities were routinely denied to Black families.

On some level, they understood that people were dying, that police had terrorized Black families for centuries. I challenged them, if they could understand that kind of fear, could they recognize the echo of their own experiences back in Vietnam? They should be able to sympathize, because here they were having survived and escaped a place where they were terrified of authority. Hell, when we visited family in Vietnam, my dad showed us where he used to hide, under the stairs at the back of the family shop. My mom pointed out which homes were rebuilt in her village, when her last memory was a scarred crater from an explosion. 

How do you go through that and not feel some sort of kinship with the protestors?

“That was then, this is now.”
“They don’t need to do that, this is America, there are other ways.”
And worse: “This is what they asked for. If they didn’t want to be criminals, they should change who they are.”

And so here we were, my sister and I, sitting in the middle of the bed, somewhere between cry session 4 and 12, wondering how the pain, the guilt, the appreciation and the sorrow that we felt as the ancillary supporters of Black Lives Matter could be explained to our family. What kind of hope did we have to actually bring them around, when their views were so deeply warped, when they were so stubborn in their prejudices? We knew we weren’t alone in this frustration either, our cousins were dealing with the same with their parents, and of course, it was hardly exclusive to Asian families either.

Reflecting on it now, even having that conversation with my parents was a victory. To say I have a relationship with my dad would be an overstatement; he’d been working shit hours and grueling jobs to keep us going for most of my life, so it’s not like we’ve had time to bond. And my mom, she’s the type to turn any attempt at a real conversation into a guilt-trip, so any attempt to bond was a carefully-navigated journey. Having any sort of honest dialogue with them was a big step, and even if I failed to change their minds in the moment, at least I put my real self in their minds and planted the seeds for a follow up. I have to believe that we can move forward, and that the best way to do so is with tempered honesty.

Months later, I would be playing Hades, and as Zagreus fought through the tangle of his own family’s internal struggles, I felt validation and vindication. 

Hades’ story at its core is about learning how to talk to your family. Zagreus’ relationship with Hades is familiar, particularly how poorly they express their opinions and how little patience they have for each other. Zagreus is rebelling against his father due to a Big Secret That His Father Kept From Him, but you also learn that a core part of their struggle comes from Hades’ expectations of Zagreus’ work in the family business. That last part in particular stings the most for me.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ll attempt to express my opinions to my parents, only for them to mishear or misunderstand me and belittle me for it. On top of that, supporting them in the family business gave plenty of opportunity for arguing and shaming. Anyone who’s had to work with their parents can tacitly recall the sting when you fuck something up. There’s the guilt-tripping that occurs when you ordered the wrong thing, even after triple checking, but goddamn if the order sheet isn’t an unorganized labyrinth and the order codes for the whole honey ham are the same as the sliced honey ham. Somehow every mistake is some intentional desire to sink the business, when you were just trying to help and/or guilted into helping.

So yeah, those Zag/Hades arguments resonated quite a bit. I felt that zealous pride when Zagreus reached the end of Styx for the first time, and stepped into the snow to see his dad standing there, wearing his work helmet and holding his work spear, talking about how much trouble was on our way for brazenly doing our job wrong. I felt that frustration when Hades knocked Zagreus back to the start and made sure we knew we had it coming for trying to do things differently than the way they’ve always been.

As you progress through the game, you learn that the friction and hostility extends beyond Zagreus and Hades, to their Chthonic and Olympian family as well. Zagreus bears the impact of his family’s own distrust. He asks his father, “Why is it important to maintain the lie you’ve told my whole life? Why do you insist that lies and mistrust are required to keep things going?” He asks his mother, “When things are broken, why are you trying to maintain the status quo instead of trying to make things better?” Unfortunately, neither of them gives him much of an answer, instead insisting that there is no way for Zagreus to understand, despite understanding being literally what Zagreus is asking for help with.

The family drama directly affects him and me as a player, from having to fight a spurned god’s favor to opening new abilities as Zagreus attempts to repair those ties. The latter is paramount to the synergy between the player experience and the game narrative. I’m encouraged by Zagreus’ attempts to live honestly, to be hopeful in spite of the deeply rooted scars his family bears. I grin when the respect we’ve given Asterius after every encounter wears at his rather toxic relationship with Theseus, and I wince when Artemis questions our integrity when she grows suspicious as to why it’s taken so long to reach the surface.

Zagreus’ rebellion lets him hear and experience everyone’s perspective on the family problems, and he has enough of an open heart to listen to them all. Their individual support of him, even though it’s as much against each other and often expressly against his dad, gives him the strength to always move forward, to strengthen his bonds and try to find a way for his family to spend just one conversation listening to each other, rather than just waiting for a chance to talk. Zagreus often dies trying, and there are certainly times he doesn’t make any progress, but as long as he’s making the effort, there’s opportunity to make things better.

Through Zag’s perseverance, it works.

By the end of the epilogue, there’s real progress towards mending those relationships and deeper understanding. The scars are still there, but at least there’s an open acknowledgement amongst the family.

That’s a hope I want to carry with me in my reality. At the time of writing, recent hate crimes against Asian-Americans have renewed the discussion of justice and identity. While I haven’t spoken to my parents about it yet, my sister just texted me that my uncle is out at a local protest. I never would’ve thought that would happen, and with the door open, I’m excited that there might be a new avenue to build a better relationship with them. Hades helped reinforce my approach: it’s still worth fighting for better, bit by bit; don’t expect instant success; and have faith in the good I know my family to have, there will always be a way to move forward.

That’s why Hades is my 2020 game of the year.

Honorable Mentions and Further Thoughts

This year’s games were intense, and honestly the best ones I played were technically 2019 releases. The beginning of the year hit really hard, with Outer Wilds and Eliza bringing me to tears, and mid-year with the pandemic, Valorant gave me a regular social structure that gave me people to talk to and to drive my competitive passion. Before Hades happened I was ready to publish an essay entirely dedicated to Outer Wilds and Eliza, and maybe in the future I will, but for now, they’ll just have to take some blurbs.

Outer Wilds

Outer Wilds floored me with its heart, its story and its wonder. It’s a game I wish I could play for the first time again, because its progression is as much the game as the puzzles you solve along the way. Every time I hear the campfire song I start to tear up and the feels eat me up like a giant anglerfish catching a spaceship.

Eliza

Eliza floored me with its accuracy and intelligence. I have a hard time with visual novels but this one got me good. I can’t recall how often I sat in silence, thinking about what just happened in the story, and how I would have done things differently. It got me lost in my mind and heart, and as a tech worker, I think about the questions Eliza raises all the time.

Valorant

“I want to play some kind of social game while quarantined; I was already feeling the itch for playing games with people but I don’t know what MMO would do it,” I told Michelle in the middle of last year. Then Valorant came out. I wasn’t sure I wanted to play because 1. Riot and 2. Competitive games can be toxic as fuck. But luckily there was an entire cadre of friends and family to help me get on board. And now we play almost every day, so yeah, I’d say it was an important game for 2020.

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

I gave up on Sekiro when I first tried it in 2019, but after watching some Let’s Plays of Bloodborne I decided to give it another shot. I’m glad I did – the sense of accomplishment in learning and defeating some of the bosses was extremely gratifying, and I do believe it sets an unfair bar for intelligent combat design, but there are undoubtedly some parts of the game that was not fun at all.

Spider-Man: Miles Morales

Spider-Man: Miles Morales is something I’ll revisit once I get a PS5. I’m extremely happy and excited that Miles has had more time to shine, and once he gets a full presence in a game it’ll be even better. The games’ handling of the villain could have been better, but damn did they capture the heart of what makes Miles awesome. Give me more Spider-Man (the cat)!

The List

1. Ori and the Blind Forest
2. Hardcore Mecha
3. Hollow Knight (Switch)
4. One Step From Eden
5. SteamWorld Dig
6. Kentucky Route 0
7. Divinity Original Sin 2
8. AFK Arena
9. Arknights
10. Devil May Cry 5
11. XCOM Chimera Squad
12. Outer Wilds
13. Indivisible
14. Sekiro
15. Slay the Spire
16. Legends of Runeterra
17. Jedi: Fallen Order
18. Eliza
19. Wonderful 101
20. Bloodstained
21. Valorant
22. Ghost of Tsushima
23. Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles
24. Control: Foundation // AWE
25. Hades
26. Spider-Man: Miles Morales
27. Among Us
28. Age of Calamity
29. Gears Tactics
30. Carto