I went on my honeymoon this year, after over three years of being married and saving, to Tokyo. I’d been before in 2008 for a meager three days, making the most of a situation I had dreamed about for so much of my life, and something I’d never thought I would be able to do. But there I was walking the streets of Akihabara to buy games I couldn’t read the language of, fascinated by the culture shock and plethora of lights and sounds from every street. It was heavenly.
While I was there this time with my wonderful wife I bought more games (no surprise there), and to my surprise, I stumbled into a couple at a second-hand store. As a terrible victim of nostalgia, I had to take them back to the US with me as a long-loved symbol of a trouble era of my life. I’d put in the work and rebuilt my life and mental health off the back of one.
That game was Disgaea 2: Dark Hero Days.
In 2012, I was let go from a job and ended up unemployed for 14 straight months. I applied for jobs every day, all kinds of different jobs, hoping someone would just read my résumé and consider me important enough for an interview. Tech support, retail, pet cage cleaner, probably adult-entertainment-something… I applied to whatever I thought would start bringing in cash. My immediate family had all moved away and I felt left by myself, alone and struggling to keep things together in a way I never had before.
Once I was on an unemployment check, all I could do was apply and play games. And that’s where Disgaea 2 did the trick.
Back in 2009, before my first year as a critic was over, I’d actually reviewed Disgaea 2 for the PSP. Not every game I was offered was a winner, and with it being an early one with an attitude I enjoyed, Disgaea 2 was one that stayed in my PSP longer than most. The personality, the jokes, the absurd story, the customization and the structure, almost everything about it was right up my alley. I was already a fan, and so it was more of the same.
When I was let go from my job of over 4 years, I was suddenly left to my own devices. I was still reviewing games and had a little money coming in, but on top of unemployment, I was struggling to make ends meet AND eat all meals every day. I’ve joked with friends about being at a gaming event and eating a beautiful meal, then getting home and having leftovers from a frozen meal the night before.
Shortly after my last day of work, when I was doing nothing but scrolling through LinkedIn for a new untouched listing, I pulled my PSP out and plugged Disgaea 2 back in to start a new game. It was fun, helped me forget for a few minutes the situation that was chipping away at my ego and mental health, and woke up the next morning with my system next to my bed with a drained battery. I charged it again in the morning, and did the same thing in the evening.
It became my “wind down” game. My escape that didn’t cost any money… just time. I could play and work at building my team of silly characters (none of whom had jobs, just aspirations like me) and build their little lives one battle at a time. I build my team, especially my friends Adell and Rozalin (the protagonists) and Ken (my blue/ice mage) and Kimmy (my fighter), and sent them on missions to slog through the underworld. Maybe throw a Prinny or two to watch them go “boom”.
When they would fall, I could pick them back up. When they won, they earned money and skills. When THEY succeeded, I succeeded. I picked who I surrounded myself with and earned my way through the story. It was simple, yet complex. Tongue-and-cheek and strategic. And I was in full control of how fast or slow I went. There’s something about being in charge in any way, even if just pushing around little pixelated mages and demons, that can bring some peace. I now know how rich people feel when they boss people around.
Just kidding, all billionaires are sad and ridiculous people. I was totally broke and breaking, but I’d be in even worse shape if everyone was a yes-person and only wanted to be around me for a paycheck. I’d much rather work for cash by sweeping lava, or bathing cats, or almost anything else.
But that game became a significant part of my world for a full 18 months. Ten minutes here, thirty there, two hours, even firing it up and deciding to try and sleep instead. Being able to focus on that helped stall my rising anxiety and now-diagnosed depression. Since I’d reviewed it, the game was free. And at least temporarily, I was too.
(By the way, if you’re struggling like I was, please reach out to a service like 988 Suicide and Crisis Hotline link here in the US, or one available in your home country. Take care of yourself and, when it’s hard, there are people who want to help too.)
And so, 15 years after I’d reviewed it and over a decade since I’d used it to wind down every night, I found and bought a copy on my honeymoon in Japan. I told my wife what it meant to me, and seeing the price on it (¥550/roughly US$3.50) I immediately added it to my collection, along with the original game I’d owned a US copy of for well over a decade.
I don’t believe in superstition or religious dogma, but I do believe in mementoes and symbols of important moments and experiences. So what better way to show, since I’d turned my life around from one of my darkest moments, then to buy a used Japanese copy of Dark Hero Days?
Maybe it’s just me. But a game can be more than a game. And that’s a game that proves that to me.
Stand Tall friends, and remember: anything can have meaning to you. If it does, there’s no reason why you can’t hold on to a physical representation of it if you’re able. Even if that means struggling to play even a few minutes in a language you can’t read.
