View source for Patrick Dolan

[[File:Patvatar.png|200px|thumb|right|My Avatar from ''Sunset Overdrive'' (2014) that I look like]]
I am a PhD student in Communications and Culture from the York Side.
My focus is on the rhetorical and affective power of retro-style indie games.

== Meta Texts ==

In taking notes for this class, I have started using an e-reader on my mobile phone. I convert .pdf files to a format that I can highlight and take notes on and then export those notes and edit them into a document.

I will put links to each week's notes here.

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8pwQTA72SxY-CGnAI Week 2 Notes]

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8pxOrGxfNX9TA8k-Y Week 3 Notes]

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8pyw8bB4HcvjAV1Xi Week 4 Notes]

Week 5 Notes: readings were printed and notes were written by hand

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8qAPnofDmSWdnb-eb Week 6 Notes]

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8qlAaHr6ofoZddXKl Week 7 Notes]

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8qyAIKKcRluUgU1tJ Week 8 Notes]

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8q2I9inJ_vujqAEm7 Week 9 Notes]

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8rTdSDOZbshoBd_JX Week 10 Notes]

[https://1drv.ms/w/s!As3vsehK0jb8rVE51PZAP12AGL7M Week 11 Notes]

== Production 2==

Option 2: Create another chapter for Bogost's book


'''Frustration'''

For the mission “Friends of a Feather” in ''Final Fantasy XV'' (Square Enix, 2016), the player must sneak behind Dead Eye, a large creature that has been killing Chocobos, to its resting place, in order to surprise it and gain fighting advantage. Typical of many stealth missions in video games, the player must follow the creature, slowly and quietly, not getting too close, but not trailing too far behind. This procedure is a balancing act of staying in the game-determined sweet spot: being close enough to not loose sight on the target, but far enough to avoid detection. When presented with this task in the game, I was immediately dejected (I do not like stealth in games, I’d much rather rush in), but pushed ahead. Upon reaching a fail state (I got too close), the game allowed me to skip this game sequence. Without hesitation, I accepted the offer, but immediately regretted it. I felt by skipping part of the game, despite it being frustrating, I was missing out on an important part of the game, one fundamental to video games: frustration.

As Ian Bogost (2015) states: “[g]ames are gross, revolting heaps of arbitrary anguish […] You don’t play a game to experience an idea so much as you do so in an attempt to get a broken machine to work again” (157). In likening games to broken machines, Bogost evokes the despondency of a break down, the trial and error of troubleshooting, and the fatigue of repeated efforts. In a sense, many video games simulate the frustration of repair. The video game as a working machine can be seen as a player efficiently completing the tasks presented in order to beat the game. For example, in the ''Mega Man'' (Capcom, 1987), the titular player character must traverse hazardous, enemy-filled stages in order defeat a certain number of boss robots and finally defeat the evil Dr. Wiley (creator of the enemy robots). Break downs occur when Mega Man dies and the player must troubleshoot game areas to best tackle obstacles and defeat enemies. In order to beat the game, and get the machine working, a lot repetition is required and frustration is induced. Yet, when the machine is working again, and the player has finally found a was to thwart Dr. Wiley, the feeling is immensely pleasurable. Dopamine is released and the player is elated from all the arduous work that has finally paid off.

“Nintendo Hard” is a term that has been used to describe the extreme difficultly of many games released on the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES), including ''Mega Man''. There were many factors that led to games upping their difficulty, including making them seem longer and encouraging players to spend more money, whether it was feeding quarters in arcade cabinets or purchasing games that could not be beat during a rental period. While frustration seems like a negative, it was a fundamental emotion in gaming history, leading to one of the many rewards of gaming: the rush you feel when you successfully beat a game.

Modern games have been criticized for being too easy. More often than not, today’s video games allow a player to turn down the difficulty in order to customize their play experience and focus more on the narrative of a game. While I feel this is a positive development, many players feel that there is something wrong with this feature. While easy or casual modes allow for a more varied way of playing, games that evoke frustration also allow players to feel great pleasure once a difficult task has been conquered. Similar to how Bogost (2011) illustrates that video games can be used for drills, or ways of practicing real world tasks, frustration produced through a game could give them a safe environment to encounter frustration and push through. A way to practice keeping calm under pressure or uncover the rewards of determination. 

Although seemingly harmless, frustrating games that reward a certain quality of task are problematic. In these kinds of games, we see a reproduction of ideologies that promote a specific kind of labour and a continuation of toxic meritocracy in gaming culture, as criticized by Christopher Paul (2018). 

Perhaps in response to the criticism of games being too easy, the past several years has seen the release of many games that capitalize on frustrating play. Examples of this include ''Super Meat Boy'' (Team Meat, 2010), and the ''Dark Souls'' series (From Software, 2011-ongoing), and ''Celeste'' (Matt Makes Games, 2018) whose purpose is to frustrate gamers and reward perseverance with their extreme difficulty. And these games have been lauded for this quality. Celeste, in particular, has been championed by Polygon’s Brian David Gilbert for its ability to make you better at not only every other video, but climbing, through its need for repetition, troubleshooting, and learning in order to make the broken machine work.


'''Cited Sources'''

Bogost, I. (2011). ''How to Do Things with Videogames'' (1st edition). Minneapolis: Univ Of Minnesota Press.<br />
Bogost, I. (2015). The Squalid Grace of Flappy Bird. In D. Goldberg & L. Larsson (Eds.), ''The state of play: creators and critics on video game culture'' (First edition., pp. 157–167). New York : Seven Stories Press. <br />
Paul, C. A. (2018). ''The Toxic Meritocracy of Video Games'' (1st ed.). University of Minnesota Press. <br />
Polygon. (2018). ''Celeste will make you better at every video game | Polygon’s 2018 Games of the Year''. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eo7FaVLET3k <br />

== Production 3==

I remember the closest I got to emotional education in school (that was part of the curriculum) was one class (not an entire course, but about 45 minutes of one day) that gamified ethics. This was essentially a G-rated version of the board game Scruples, where we had to answer questions like “if you find a wallet with money in it and no one is around, what do you do?” or “there is only one cookie left and two of you, what do you do?” Although I enjoy Scruples as an adult - and probably liked the exercise at child – me and my fellow students saw through the game to the “right” answers. Instead of educating us on ethics or engage with our emotions, we picked the answers that seemed “correct.” As Nolan and McBride (2014) might say: we were not engaging with the material but seeking pedagogical capital. Or we were seeking “the acquisition of outcomes, practices and dispositions valued and rewarded within formal education rather than those of the player” (597). Our version of Scruples Jr. was an example of a ‘game layer’ (597) placed over ethical instruction, not an efficient way of educating us on emotions.

In “Beyond gamification”, Nolan and McBride (2014) note that “[e]motion is among the most nullified aspects of formal education” (603). Furthermore, they use Flinders et al. (1986) to suggest that ‘affect’ may be the most important part of the null curriculum (603). The only emotions addressed in school system are behavioral regulations that are enforced outside of the curriculum, mostly through punitive measures like detention, sitting outside of class, etc. While they address it, Nolan and McBride gloss over emotional education to emphasize the importance of meaning in maintaining interest for children. While emotional management and intelligence does not translate into usable job skills, I would argue that this is important education to enhance one’s quality of life. I argue that video games can be used to evoke emotions and create spaces to explore them, especially for empathy. 

As Callie wrote about in her Production 2, a big appeal of Bioware’s AAA RPG series’ Mass Effect (2007-ongoing) and Dragon Age (2009-ongoing) is the emotion it evokes. In each franchises’ entry the player assumes a persona and goes on adventures with a diverse group of individuals. A large part of the game revolves around choices made through the dialogue and actions of the protagonist which effect NPCs’ affinity to the player character. These games also allow players to build relationships with character and even engage with them romantically. In engaging our emotions, these games are able to educate players on empathy.

In the worlds of the aforementioned Bioware games, your actions and words have consequences. Unlike the unsuccessful go at Scruples in my schooling, one can see the outcome of your actions. As decisions are relatively ambiguous in the game, they are not so much governed by “right” and “wrong” answers, instead one sees the pluses and minuses of a player’s choice through NPC reactions. A lot of these choices have no effect on the ultimate outcome of the game, only the experience of the game. As the reward is solely in what characters are affected and how the player feels about them, this mechanic allows the player to explore empathy.

The big question, of course, is how to successfully implement this kind of learning into education. The Mass Effect and Dragon Age games implement emotional mechanics alongside other more traditional RPG mechanics, like combat and exploration, but show us a way to tackle emotional education. In “Learning Through Game Design”, Thumlert, de Castell, & Jenson (2018) explore how the production pedagogy suggests that game design can be used to best teach students with gaming. Using the Bioware games as a model, students could create situations like the Scruples exercise, but it would be up to the student/creators themselves to decide the outcomes of the actions.


'''Cited Sources'''

Nolan, J., & McBride, M. (2014). Beyond gamification: Reconceptualizing game-based learning in early childhood environments. Information, Communication & Society.<br />
Thumlert, K., de Castell, S., & Jenson, J. (2018). Learning through game design: A production pedagogy, The 2018 European Conference on Games Based Learning Book: ACPI Press.

==Production 4==
'''Option 2: De-Composing a Game'''

'''Passage (Jason Rohrer, 2007)'''

''Passage'' is a highly affective video game where very little happens. The game follows the life of an unnamed protagonist from youth, through marriage (this is optional), to death. There is no dialogue and no text (save for the title at the beginning and the end), the player only navigates the environment, opens treasure chests (again, this is optional), and dies. There is graphical variation in the different settings the character traverses, while the blurry graphics ahead become clear and blurry graphics appear behind. The protagonist’s hair slowly darkens, grays, and goes bald and they eventually turn into grave stones, marking the end of their life. The playable area is 100x16 pixel resolution (including a 4-pixel scoreboard at the top) and the graphics are heavily pixelated. Essentially, the player moves from left to right for five minutes and the game ends. 

This game is often used as a shining example in the debate for games as art. It has also been criticized for not being a “real” game, but more of an interactive poem. As such, I thought it would be interesting to break down some of its gamic elements as outlined in the assignment description.
You can play the game for free [http://hcsoftware.sourceforge.net/passage/ here]. 

You can also download it on Android devices and, I think, Iphones.


'''Premise:''' live a life in 5 minutes

'''The goal and/or win conditions:''' once 5 minutes has past your character turns into a gravestone. There is nothing the player can do to change this “win” state.
Player relations to non-player characters: there is one NPC that presents as female. You can move to them and have them follow you throughout the game. They represent your life partner. They dying a bit before you do. Having them accompany you throughout the game is optional. 

'''Use of narrative:''' while simple, this game tells the story of someone’s life through the actions they take and choices they make. 

'''Use of simulation:''' The progression of the player character’s position on the screen, the blurring of graphics in front and later behind, and the change in setting simulates the passage of time in one’s life. There is so effort made to make the game world look hyper-real. 

'''Boundaries:''' While you seem to be able to move forward indefinitely (or at least as far as you can before the time runs out), your movement up and down seems to be twice as large in both directions as the playable area. You also can’t move over obstacles.

'''Rule sets and systems:''' a player can only move in a designated area and they can only move (there are no action buttons). The games progression (moving the avatar position and graphical blurring) continues with or without player interaction.

'''Key mechanics:''' taken from website “Press any button (or key) to start the game. Use left analog stick (or arrow keys) to move character (up, down, left, right).” There are only movement mechanics.

'''Challenges and obstacles:''' Although you just use movement controls, there are spatial obstacles that you must move around. These can delay your progression as you maneuver around them and get in the way of getting a higher score or seeing more of the game space. If you decide to join with a mate, you can not move through smaller spaces. 


If we ignore the paratextual information on the game (the many articles, blogs, and forums that discuss the game), the player is given limited instruction on gameplay. They are only told how to move. It is through playing the game, the minor experimentation of running into an obstacle and moving around it, that the learn how to play the game. I feel what the game teaches us, or what it wants to teach us, is more meta. The developer is trying to expand the definition of what a video game is in 2007. It uses primitive, Atari 2600-style graphics and limited movement to tell what is a surprisingly moving story. Moving the character through life in such a simple stripped-down way is very poetic and moving. I think the developer is trying to get to the core of how games effect our emotions by stripping of the hyper-real graphics and complex gameplay of modern AAA games. 

As an addendum I also want to quickly problematize the game for its reproduction of hetero-sexual norms. I think that as such a low-resolution game it could have created characters that were genderless. Instead, the player character presents as a male (he experiences male-pattern baldness) and the mate presents as a female (long hair and a dress). In addition to experimenting with and teaching us how simple graphics and gameplay can still affect us emotionally, it could be forwarded that this game is teaching societal norms.

==Production 5==

'''Option 2: Gameplay Analysis – Theories of Play'''
 

In the opening chapter of Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture (1938), Johan Huizenga outlines main characteristics of play. In this production, I will be outlining what I found to be Huizenga’s definition of play and critically applying these aspects to Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Nintendo, 2017). I will also discuss which aspects of Huizenga’s defition of play bring out Caillois’ (1958) notions of paidia (that has to do with instinct, chaos, and playfulnes) and ludus (for aspects that are refined, disciplined, and require mastery) (Note: my page references will correspond to chapters in the book The Game Design Reader: A Rules of Play Anthology.)

Amoung the first things Huizenga identifies is that play has meaning (p. 97). Although this is true, it is a vague assertion. Within Breath of the Wild, meaning is partially built-in as the Zelda franchise has a large fanbase with great affection for the games. However, within the game world, the narrative does a lot of work to set out an ultimate plot (defeat the big baddy, Calamity Ganon) in order to build meaning within the specific game world. Ever action, whether it is advancing the narrative, exploring the space, or solving puzzles, in meaningful progression toward the ultimate goal. 
Rules are important in Huizenga’s play. Breath of the Wild unfolds its rules in an incremental way, similar to many Nintendo games from Super Mario Bros. (Nintendo, 1985). Zelda begins in a small room, that the player character, Link, must navigate his way out of. As more challenges, no matter how minor they seem, as completed, the game world appears to expand exponentially. The rules of the game are incredibly important, as they gauge the limits of play, but they are notable in how they are introduced. In order to learn rules, you must explore and discover more of the game. For example, one rule is that weapons break over time (sometimes very easily), you discover this not by being told, but my fighting enemies and experiencing the shock of your weapon shattering into pieces in the middle of battle. While rules here primary work toward the ludus of the game, as it forces players to adhere to prescribed limitation, you become more refined through play, making rules feel instinctual and leaning toward paidia.

Huizenga points out that games are voluntary (p. 102), outside of ordinary life (p. 99), and “within certain limits of time and place” (p. 104). These apply quite easily to my game of choice: no one is forcing me to play my Nintendo Switch; the game world is decidedly outside of reality, set in a fantasy world, and within a digital space; and I am only able to play the game during the time I am using the console. Being on the Switch, the place of play changes as I can play at on a TV or anything in its portable mode. 

Two poles are defined by Huizenga, who states that play is either “a contest for something or a representation of something” (p. 108). But this is not a clear dichotomy in video games. Breath of the Wild is a representation of a fantasy world and epic story within in, but within this representation are many small contests. Enemies encounters, environmental puzzles, or even making your horse go as fast as possible without tiring out are contests against the AI of the game. Even defeating the final boss (which I have not got to yet) is a contest. Again, we see ludus emerging in the need for in-game skills to be honed in order to progress in the game. 
Huizenga highlights that play is non-materialistic and has no moral function (p. 97, 102). He joins these too elements to emphasize that there is real to me gained from play, be it objectified or embodied. Similarly, he states that there is disinterestedness in play. It is “a temporary activity satisfying in itself and ending there” (103-104). Morality certainly enters video games as ideologies govern representations and actions that are allowed in a game space. For example, hunting is a normalized activity in the game. In turn, players make moral decisions in dialogue options and actions whether they are consciously doing so or not. Although they may not intend it, developers are teaching morality through how things are treated and represented in the game. I would also argue against disinterestedness. Playing and beating Breath of the Wild, can be used as subcultural capital denoting someone’s embodied knowledge of and worth within a particular fan community. In this way play, and the level of which you are successful can extend beyond the game.

The idea of play being non-serious is addressed in the piece, and Huizenga states that “some play can be very serious indeed” (p. 101). While I am only playing Breath of the Wild for fun, to a certain extent I take the story seriously and there are many fans who have strong emotional attachments to the characters and plot of the game, which makes playing through the narrative very serious.

Huizenga also mentions that there is an air of secrecy in play (p. 107). I can see how this is works in way that those in play are within a certain fiction that those who are not are outside of and unaware, but the term secrecy implies an intentional clandestine aspect which I do not find in Breath of the Wild. Unless we’re talking about in-game secrecy, in that case there are many aspects of the plot that are kept from Link and the player, and are revealed incrementally. There is also a clan of fighter who are secretly out to kill Link. You only discover who those people are by talking to them. You also have the option in many cases to sneak. This allows your character to move in secret and gain advantages in combat. Secrecy relates to the paidia in relation to games, especially in sneaking. Very often in games, when I see a camp of bokoblins (a low-level enemy), I will sneak near by and strategically place or throw a bomb in a critical area to cause the most damage and chaos. However, as touched on earlier, this paidia is achieved through the refinement of Link’s controls and abilities.

While it does not apply directly to Breath of the Wild, I really like Huizenga’s point that “the enjoyment of [play] makes it a need” (p. 103). While video games seem frivolous and un-serious, the enjoyment players get out of the game make them an essential and fundamental part of existence. Thanks for making me feel better about my hobby.


==Pitch Video==

[https://youtu.be/wnhcbN2GVG0 Patrick's Super Fun Video Game Idea]

I'm worried I come off too cool, too natural, and too unawkward in this video.

==Final Production==

'''"Just Breath": ''Celeste'' and Mental Health in Video Games'''

[[File:Sounds crazy.jpg|600px|thumb|center]]

In June of 2018 the World Health Organization added “gaming disorder” to its International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems. Certain sources sensationalized this news claiming there was now authoritative “backup” for viewing video games as “digital heroin” (Scutti, 2018, para. 1) and conflated health issues in teenagers with a rise in video game playing (Scutti, embedded video). Others called for more awareness of mental health and gaming, saying “nobody’s properly talking” about the subject (Judge, 2018, title). While more game-centric sources took a defensive stance claiming that “gaming can improve your mental health” (Cooper, 2018, title). 

What was ignored in this debate was how video games affected gamers through depictions of mental health. There has been little academic research into the representation of mental health and mental illness in video games. I was only able to find one study on the topic, “Graphic Depictions: Portrayals of Mental Illness in Video Games” by Samuel Shapiro and Merrill Rotter (2016). This qualitative content analysis shows that in mainstream, AAA games from 2011 to 2013, the majority of portrayals of mental illness were violent and 69% displayed character traits of the “homicidal maniac” archetype (p. 1594). Other tropes identified in the sample included, “zoo specimen”, “nassisistic parasite”, “dysfunctional invalid”, and “comic eccentrics” (p. 1593).

Shapiro and Rotter show a highly problematic portrayal of mental health in video games, but by focusing on AAA games they ignore the number of independent video games that tell personal stories and in doing so address mental health. Examples of these include, ''Neverending Nightmares'' (Infinitap Game, 2014), ''Actual Sunlight'' (WZOGI, 2014), and ''Depression Quest'' (Zoë Quinn, 2013). ''Celeste'' (Matt Makes Games, 2018) in particular, tackles mental health in a responsible and affirmative way, enhancing its depiction with gameplay. ''Celeste''’s gameplay even emulates and teaches techniques of dealing with mental health issues. Using Technocultural Discourse Analysis, this essay will examine the how ''Celeste'' represents mental health through both narrative and gameplay mechanics. My aim is not to ignore the problematic portrayals of mental health in video games, but rather show how this issue can be represented responsibly and empathetically. 


'''Methodology'''

Due to factors such as interactivity, the study of video games requires a diverse toolset to address several aspects of the gameplay experience that go beyond simple narrative analysis. One method of doing this is what André Brock (2011) has termed Critical Technocultural Discourse Analysis (p. 431), which combines interface analysis with Critical Discourse Analysis. Brock’s interface analysis is similar to visual and semiotic analysis in that it interprets meaning from the visual data, but pays particular attention to meaning that emerges from the interaction of the player and the discursive power of this interaction. Critical Discourse Analysis is employed in reading the game as discourse, but also analyzing paratexts to further inform the analysis. For Brock this took the form of reading comments about trailer ''Resident Evil 5'' (Capcom, 2009) for reproduction of racist ideologies. 

My analysis operates under a less transformative paradigm: I am not concerned with how oppressive ideologies are reproduced in ''Celeste'' or aligning my analysis with Critical Theory. However, Technocultural Discourse Analysis (without the Critical element), allows me to interpret the game’s visual and interactive elements as discourse, while measuring it against paratexts. Using a discourse analysis of Jennifer Hazel’s “Representation of Mental Health in Games” (2018), I will classify ''Celeste'' as a positive representation of mental health. Using interface analsysi, I will then analyze the game’s mechanics and narrative for how it represents mental health. I will also describe elements of the game's second stage, "The Old site", to illustrate how the game emulates anxiety disorder and depression and teaches techniques for coping with it. My goal is not to ignore the problematic portrayals of mental health in video games, but rather show how this issue can be represented well in both visuals and mechanics. 


'''Discourse Analysis'''

Despite academic silence on the subject of depictions of mental health in video games, there has been a considerable amount of non-scholarly coverage on the topic. Jennifer Hazel (2018), for one, outlines a number of portrayals of mental illness in video games for CheckPoint, a charity that provides mental health resources to gamers. Hazel classifies a selection of games under three categories: “games that represent mental health well”, “middle-sitters”, and “games to avoid”. At the top of the list are mostly independent games that delve into personal experiences with mental health and illness, her examples include the indie games I mention above. The “middle-sitters” tend to be games that give agency to sufferers of mental illness, but use said illness as a plot device, may be triggering, or depict mental health clumsily. Examples of these are ''American McGee’s Alice'' (Rogue Entertainment, 2000), ''The Evil Within'' (Tango Gameworks, 2014), and ''Until Dawn'' (Supermassive Games, 2015). The bottom of the list includes games that “use tropes that cause stigma, or dehumanise sufferers of mental illness in some way” (para. 34). All of the titles mentioned in this section are psychological horror games that take place in a mental hospital, such as ''Outlast'' (Red Barrels, 2013) and ''The Inpatient'' (Supermassive Games, 2018), or in the case of ''Manhunt 2'' (Rockstar Games, 2007), features a lead character who falls into the “homicidal maniac” trope and murders the mentally ill. While she does not spell out her criteria, Hazel privileges games that give agency and are compassionate or empathetic to those who suffer from mental illness. Negative games for Hazel fall in the psychological horror genre, use mental illness as a plot device, and reproduce stigmatizing tropes of mental illness, such as those discussed by Shapiro and Rotter. While she identifies ''Celeste'' as a positive game, Hazel does not elaborate on how the game specifically adheres to her criteria.

Decidedly not a horror game, ''Celeste'' is a 2-D side scrolling, puzzle-platformer that adopts a 16-bit-style pixel aesthetic. The game’s narrative follows Madeline, a young woman who is climbing the eponymous mountain in an attempt to conquer personal struggles. Agency is given to those who suffer from mental illness primarily through Madeline, who has depression and anxiety disorder, but drives the games’ narrative forward. While Madeline does display character traits of someone with depression, such as her lack of emotional response, she does not fall into any tropes outlined by Shapiro and Rotter. Side characters also exhibit mental illness, such as Mr. Oshiro, a reclusive hoarder from "Chapter 3 – Celestial Hotel". While Mr. Oshiro could be seen as a “comic eccentric,” he is given agency in several instances throughout the game level as he tells Madeline how people stopped visiting his hotel and he withdrew further and further from contact with others. This portrayal avoids tropes through its compassionate portrayal of Mr. Oshiro as a troubled, fleshed-out character, not a shorthanded plot device.

Mental health is addressed in the narrative gradually and not explicitly stated. The player is never told that Madeline has depression or anxiety but it is inferred through her interaction with Non-player characters. A fellow mountain climber, Theo, is encountered throughout the game. In dialogue, Madeline’s gloomy disposition is contrasted with Theo’s cheery optimism, revealing her mental state. Theo even tries to encourage Madeline with comments like “don’t be so hard on yourself.” In another instance Madeline’s mental health is addressed when she calls her mom at the end of Chapter 2. Madeline is flustered and anxious and her mother asks if she is having another panic attack and reminds her to breath. Instead of stigmatizing Madeline’s mental state, the conversation with her mom normalizes her anxiety as she attempts to calm her. Instead of standing out, mental health is integrated into the narrative, normalized, and something that adds to characterizations instead of standing in for development. Through giving agency, avoiding tropes, and integrating issues of mental health into the plot, rather than highlighting them as plot devices, ''Celeste'' stands as a positive depiction of mental health in video games. However, its portrayal is further enhanced by its gameplay.

[[File:Hardonself.jpg|600px|thumb|center|Theo attempting to encourage Madeline]]

'''Interface Analysis'''

''Celeste'' has been categorized as “masocore”, a sub-genre of puzzle platformer, such as ''Super Meat Boy'' (Team Meat, 2010) and ''1001 Spikes'' (Nicalis, 2014), that prides themselves in being incredibly hard. These games promise outrageous difficultly and typically appeal to hardcore gamers. Repeated failure is expected. While staying true to the sub-genre, ''Celeste'' creates a safe space for failure. One method is through its loading screens which give affirming messages and encourage players to see their death count (the game prominently displays how many times you died in a stage) as a badge of honor. It instructs the player to see the death count as evidence of how much they learned and how hard they worked in each stage. This is a very important technique for mental health therapy. When sufferers of mental illness have set backs, they are encouraged to focus of how much they achieved and what they have accomplished, as well as ways they have succeeded, instead of focusing on their failure. 

Sufferers of mental illness need help sometimes, the game recognizes this and allows players to use its “assist mode”. The assist mode is like a built-in cheat engine: when turned on it gives users the option to have invincibility, infinite stamina, increase the number of mid-air dashes, and slow down motion. While Celeste encourages you to try your first play without it, it does not shame you for using it, and allows users who are unable to play masocore games the ability to play through ''Celeste''. You can turn any element of assist mode on and off at any time during the gameplay, allowing players to easily and accessibly get help when they need. 

The second stage of the game, "The Old Site", is a strong example for how ''Celeste'' represents mental health and teaches coping techniques through gameplay. "The Old Site" begins with many pathways blocked by an unknown substance, preventing Madeline’s traversal through the level. After finding a mirror that allows the character to see differently, the substance turns into a sort of goo that propels Madeline forward. While this substance initially prevents Madeline from crossing the stage, when looked at differently they become a way to help her. This is similar to mental health techniques that get you to look at situations in different ways, such as rewording negative self talk.

The boss of this stage is Madeline herself, or rather the negative aspects of Madeline, called Badeline. Badeline further represents negative self talk and how someone can work against their own interests. When encountered both characters engage in dialogue and Badeline explains that she is part of Madeline. When asked “[a]re you the weak part of me, or the lazy part?” Badeline answers, “I’m the pragmatic part.” Badeline then proceeds to discourage Madeline from climbing the mountain. Not only is Badeline a personification of Madeline’s doubt and fear, but Madeline herself puts down that part of her using totalizing language like “weak” and “lazy”, something common in distorted thinking. In calling herself “pragmatic”, Badeline is also conflating pessimism with reality, a common practice for those suffering from self doubt. 

[[File:Weaklazy.jpg|600px|thumb|center|Madeline putting herself down with totalizing language]]

The boss fight (or rather boss evasion) has the player running away from Badeline while traversing increasingly complicated platforming puzzles. Cleverly, Badeline follows the players movements closely behind. For example, if I player takes an upper pathway and jumps at a particular point, Badeline will do the exact same thing milliseconds after. Simple evasion is complicated with puzzles that have the player hit switches to move to another area. In doing so, the player must return to pathways previously traversed. In order to avoid Badeline, the player must judge their movements, and not land on the exact place they were before to avoid running into the enemy. This section of the game requires thoughtful movement and timing to successfully complete. This game mechanic emulates techniques of critical and mindful thinking, encouraging players to consider how they have acted before and how their former actions can have lasting consequences. Its ever more effective in its message as it is the player character who is avoiding herself and learning from her own mistakes. 


'''Conclusion'''

A high level of anxiety is induced in Chapter 2, but after defeating Badeline, a phone call informs the player that you have been in a dream. Madeline wakes up and the game calms the player by giving them the opportunity to explore the defeated stage without enemies or obstacles, in a relaxed state. The player also encounters Theo and soon after Madeline reaches out to her mom who, as mentioned above, encourages Madeline, and by extension the player, to breath. 

[[File:Focus.jpg|600px|thumb|center|Madeline's mother encouraging her to breath.]]

The World Health Organization has brought a lot of attention to the connection between mental health and gaming, but little scholarly work has been done to see how video games depict or even aid mental health. As evidenced by Hazel, Shapiro, and Rotter, there is need for more video games that responsibly depict mental illness. ''Celeste'' stands as a positive example that not only represents mental illness in a realistic and even positive way, but works to help players with their own mental health through its gameplay and narrative. This is little more that a cursory look at the issue of mental health representation in video games and how they may help mental health. For a fuller study a larger sample, stronger criteria of positive and negative depictions of mental illness, and authoritative data on therapeutic techniques for mental illness is needed. 


'''Works Cited'''

Brock, A. (2011). ‘“When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong”’: Resident Evil 5, Racial Representation, and Gamers. ''Games and Culture'', 6(5), 429–452. 
Cooper, D. (2018, January 1). How Gaming Can Improve Your Mental Health. Retrieved March 27, 2019, from Game Rant website: https://gamerant.com/how-gaming-improve-mental-health-disorder/<br/>
Hazel, J. (2018, September 6). Mental Health Representation in Games. Retrieved March 20, 2019, from CheckPoint website: https://checkpointorg.com/mental-health-representation/<br/>
Judge, A. (2018, July 14). Video games and mental health: “Nobody’s properly talking.” ''BBC''. Retrieved from https://www.bbc.com/news/newsbeat-44662669<br/>
Keaten, J., & Cheng, M. (2018, June 18). Video game addiction listed as a mental health problem by WHO. Retrieved March 27, 2019, from Global News website: https://globalnews.ca/news/4279894/video-game-addiction-gaming-disorder-mental-health/<br/>
Scutti, S. (2018, June 18). WHO says “gaming disorder” is a mental health condition. Retrieved March 27, 2019, from CNN website: https://www.cnn.com/2018/06/18/health/video-game-disorder-who/index.html<br/>
Shapiro, S., & Rotter, M. (2016). Graphic Depictions: Portrayals of Mental Illness in Video Games. ''Journal of Forensic Sciences'', 61(6), 1592–1595.