"Quit Game Now? You Will Lose All Unsaved Progress:” How Games Taught Me How to Progress in Life
Photo/Ruby Dietlein.
By Ed Guzzo
I don’t like the word “progress.” That is, as a noun. It’s stagnant, it’s fixed, a goal, and like most goals, either a bit of a disappointment once achieved or somehow always out of reach. It’s a useful concept, but far too often treated as an end unto itself, the highest good or the ultimate aim. I like the verb “to progress” much better. We always progress.
Thinking about what it means “to progress” has become incredibly important for me and my family. Like many, the 2020 pandemic lost us our primary income, our home, our healthcare, and any kind of economic stability. Amid the chaos, we’ve turned to various games to keep ourselves sane. These games, I think, have taught me an important lesson about progress. Games can work as some kind of relief, an escape, when we’re not interested in the “real world.” However, they have done more for my family than provide mere escape.
We’re a small family: one husband, one wife, and one toddler who has yet to toddle. Before March, I struggled with depression, my husband with a job he didn’t want, and our daughter couldn’t crawl. (The latter problem would redeem itself with time, but when you’re so small, you have no concept of time, only frustration.) We weren’t unhappy, but we had no idea how to progress. There was no obvious direction or path forward.
Then things began to shut down. People panicked and bought all the toilet paper at the grocery store. Students and instructors had to move online regardless of whether they had the resources to do so. I became more aware of each ambulance ripping through the streets toward St. Mary’s Hospital in downtown Reno. It felt like there were more than before. At the very least, their presence became more ominous.
My husband lost his job due to lack of business, and my teaching contract with the University of Nevada, Reno, was coming to an end. Our daughter suddenly saw a lot more of both of us, and she was thrilled. We all learned how to play more baby games. We learned how to eat on less than $30 of groceries a week. Then the apartment filled with packed boxes and trash bags; the boxes would move with us, the bags, full of items we couldn’t donate because the thrift stores were closed, went into the green dumpster in the parking lot. The day we left, our daughter figured out how to drag herself across the floor. Thankfully, our next home would have no staircase.
My daughter knows best how to progress. When she falls over, she tries again. When she accomplishes a goal, she smiles and then pursues another. She is always progressing. Growing up is a continual progression without end, milestone after milestone, moving forever forward despite daily setbacks. When our daughter gets upset, it’s only for a moment. She moves on to the next game of peek-a-boo. Slowly, my husband and I learned to move on to the next game, too: a solo game of Sudoku, a round of Scrabble, Egyptian Senet, Magic the Gathering, Dungeons and Dragons, Skyrim. Out of work, we had time to play.
Progress as a concept is helpful because it gives us goals. In a video or board game, a goal makes the game happen but the objectives “slay dragon” or “use the free market to bankrupt your competition with a Monopoly” are not the point. The point is to have fun. Philosopher and game enthusiast C. Thi Nguyen, author of Games: Agency as Art, took this observation to what I still believe is the most empowering and heartwarming conclusion about gameplay there is: gameplay is like yoga for your agency. To play a game—any kind of game—has the potential to strengthen your own capacity for living.
When we talk about “progress” in public discourse, we usually refer to creating more social and economic justice in the world; LGBTQIA+ rights, less war, more freedom. The goals we discuss come in the form of marriage equality, a single-payer healthcare system, an end to police brutality, housing for all, and all manner of other good things. But life does not stop at these milestones. In reaching and fighting for them, if we forget how to live, we’ll lose our way. Peace, love, justice, health, and wellbeing; these are all active, ongoing things we must continually create, not mere accomplishments. You cannot check off “peace” in your bullet journal and call it a day.
The struggle for justice and wellbeing is grueling. Nothing happens soon enough. People who shouldn’t die continue to leave us, people who need homes don’t have them, systemic oppression continues. Anger, despair, and loneliness are natural and appropriate responses. I’m afraid for the future of this country, the health of my loved ones, and my own ability to provide for my family. A better healthcare system, more responsible governance, more justice for Black Americans, all represent much needed progress long overdue.
Swept up in these hard feelings, we can forget to live. We will burn out and give up when these goals are not met right away if we forget about the act of progressing. The point of playing any game is not the act of winning, but the act of playing. The point of any life is not the degree, the job, the court ruling, the revolution—none of that. If we only focus on what needs to be done, life will pass us by. If we focus on what we’re doing, we’re present for every minute of it. Every step in a march, every mask, every hug and kiss, every good nap, every warm cup of coffee, is an act of living out a life worth living. So long as we continue to progress, we do not fail, we succeed because we live.
For us, continuing to progress has been fraught. My small family lives in California on my in-law’s property. We’re lucky. Still, we continue to come back to Reno for one reason or another; for friends, healthcare, the possibility of work. But it’s unlikely we’ll be able to stay in California long. The latest round of California fire surrounded the property, forcing us out. We lived in Reno until it was safe to go back. The home survived, and for now is surrounded by blackened hills, grey smoke and air-born ash. My in-laws plan to sell the property.
I continue to look for work in Reno. My husband has become a top tier DoorDash delivery man. My daughter has learned how to dance standing up. Her favorites are Ozzy Osborne and the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim theme song. With the help of a small amount of medication, my depression has become almost a non-issue. My husband no longer feels trapped by his work. By the time this is published, my daughter will probably be able to walk. Our family always makes time for games. We struggle now more than ever before, but we progress, despite everything.
Ed Guzzo is a pen name for Erica Dietlein. She studied philosophy at the University of Nevada, Reno, and graduated with an MA in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. She keeps home for her family by day and writes by night. She floats between Reno, Nevada and Vacaville, California out of necessity during these uncertain times. Her personal writings can be found at edguzzo.com.
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