Nǐ hǎo, I'm Julia.

Most video games I play are digital pacifiers, comforting little escapes from reality's constant barrage. Push button, get dopamine, repeat. But lately? I've found myself drawn to games that don't just entertain me but actually make me feel something. Games that stick with me long after I've put down the controller, like emotional barnacles clinging to my psyche.

This shift has steered me toward narrative-driven games like Old Man's Journey, where you guide a regret-laden old guy through his memories (fun times!), and more significantly, Spiritfarer—where you play as Stella, a young woman whose job description is literally "ferry the dead to their final resting place after helping them sort out their psychological baggage." You know, light stuff for a Tuesday evening.

why i played spiritfarer

Spiritfarer kept ambushing me in those "top cozy games" YouTube videos—you know the ones, where content creators speak in hushed ASMR tones about games that won't spike your blood pressure. Its adorable aesthetic caught my eye (who doesn't love a playable cat companion?). But what truly drew me in was its premise: managing relationships with spirits who need your help before they can move on. At this point in my life, with reflections on mortality becoming more frequent and my parents ageing, the theme of helping others find peace before departure felt strangely relevant.

I wasn't specifically looking for a game about death and transition, but perhaps subconsciously I was. The more I read about Spiritfarer—how it blended resource management and relationship-building with themes of acceptance and letting go—the more it seemed like exactly what I needed but hadn't known to ask for.

Finding it on sale for under £4 during an eShop promotion wasn't just a coincidence—it was the universe saying, "Here's your existential crisis for the price of a fancy coffee." How could I resist that bargain?

why it resonated with me

Games that deal with weighty themes often struggle to balance philosophical depth with enjoyable gameplay, but Spiritfarer struck that balance with remarkable grace. As I sailed my spirit-ferrying boat from island to island, building comfortable spaces for my spectral passengers and fulfilling their final requests, I found myself thinking about my own life trajectory.

I'm approaching middle age now, that weird limbo where you have enough life in the rearview mirror to spot the patterns in your choices, but hopefully enough road ahead to course-correct if you're heading for a cliff. Playing Spiritfarer became an unexpected mirror for this midlife reflection. Each spirit's story—their regrets, their attachments, their desperate need for closure—made me examine my own potential for future regret.

What hit home hardest was the game's gentle but persistent message: we can't control everything. I know, shocking revelation, right? Each spirit's journey toward acceptance involved recognising the limits of their control and finding peace anyway—kind of like realising you can't force your phone to update any faster no matter how aggressively you stare at the progress bar. This paralleled my own evolving relationship with control—the slow, sometimes painful realisation that much of my life has been shaped by circumstances as random as a cosmic dice roll, and that true maturity might lie in acknowledging this rather than fighting it.

My parents are getting older. They won't be around forever, a truth I intellectually understand but emotionally struggle to process. Helping spirits in Spiritfarer complete their unfinished business before saying goodbye became a poignant metaphor for ensuring I don't leave important things unsaid or undone with my own family. Nothing like a cute video game to serve as a memento mori, huh?

what i've taken away

🧘🏻‍♀️ On mindful decision-making

• Making peace with decisions is as important as making them well. We can only decide based on the information available at the time—holding onto regret about past choices with incomplete information is both painful and pointless.
• Sometimes the journey matters more than the destination. Many spirits in the game discover that their fixation on specific outcomes blinded them to the beauty of the path they were on.

🎁 On acceptance and control

• We control far less than we imagine. The spirits' stories illuminate how much of life happens to us rather than because of us—a humbling but ultimately liberating perspective.
• Our reactions are our true domain of control. While we can't dictate circumstances, we can choose how we respond—with bitterness or gratitude, resistance or acceptance.
• Acceptance isn't resignation; it's clarity. Acceptance doesn't equate to giving up but as seeing clearly what is and isn't possible, then acting from that truthful place.

🦸🏻‍♀️ On living without regret

• Family relationships deserve intentional care. The game's focus on helping spirits resolve family conflicts underscores how these connections, though complicated, are worth the effort to maintain and repair.
• Gratitude transforms ordinary moments into treasures. A life well-lived contains countless small pleasures we often speed past without noticing—like scrolling through social media during a sunset.
• Present awareness prevents future regret. By staying conscious of life's impermanence, we can appreciate what we have while we have it—a practice that may be the ultimate regret prevention.

other interesting bits

• The game characters' stories are based on the creative director, Nicolas Guérin's (and other team members') own experiences of loss.
• Giovanni and Astrid's story was based on Guérin's grandfather and my grandmother. 😢 Check out this interview for more insights.