Clementine Words

Let Me Simulate My Stress

[This blog was originally written on MAY 3, 2025. I am reuploading it here as an excuse to keep paying for this and to (hopefully) motivate me to write again. Pictures are removed.]

Sometime in late April, I smoked my first cigarette in a few months. I only did it because I felt so stressed in anticipation for an upcoming Counter Strike 2 ESEA League match in a few hours, even despite my girlfriend’s staunch disapproval of the habit. It’s something I picked up during highschool for dumb reasons, but, unsurprisingly, haven’t really learned how to put it down completely. This isn’t just a piece about trying to excuse my addictions or vent out my guilt, but instead about the other part of this story. The stress that can come from playing a video game. Games are supposed to be a leisure activity, a rather expensive hobby that’s akin to pottery, painting, and crocheting, so why am I, and I’m sure many others as well, taking this stress-relieving activity and making something out of it that’s seemingly making things worse. Well, fortunately for me, there’s a whole genre of games that are meant to be the perfect remedy and maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure out the details of this fucked up relationship I have with stress. Cozy games are a genre of games that came into existence decades ago, but didn’t become a commonly understood term until circa 2020. It’s a genre that is derived from the life simulator genre, but specifically focuses on providing peaceful, relaxing, and almost explicitly non-stressful gameplay. I have my own personal issues with the term, not the genre itself, only because of the fact that the concept of being ā€œcozyā€ can really vary in terms of aesthetics, gameplay, and of course, actual stress relief. However, last year I came across a really intriguing sub-genre of cozy games I’d like to talk about, which I call ā€œstress simulatorsā€. Yes, I know, it doesn’t sound like it makes any sense, but they’re perfect.

Starting it off simple, the game Galaxy Burger was a hit amongst me and my friends, as the co-op multiplayer cozy cooking game was the perfect game for us while we spent late nights chatting away. Earlier, I mentioned how cozy games are a derived genre from the ā€œlife simulatorā€ genre which might be a little confusing for some. For those uninitiated into the confusing and often silly and obtuse field of video game genres, the genre ā€œlife simulatorā€ generally refers to a wide range of games that includes games like The Sims, Euro Truck Simulator, and, of course, Galaxy Burger. Cozy games often are about taking ordinary parts of life that some people find comforting and relaxing and turning that into a game, mixing interactivity with art and music in order to somehow end up evoking the same feelings as if the player was feeling this relaxed doing it in real life instead. Galaxy Burger is all about being a food service worker, although the sci-fi setting, cat chef that’s played, and various types of alien customers are all parts that might take away from any immersion the player might have been hoping to find. The simple gameplay of taking orders, crafting meal after meal, and slowly becoming a better chef and owner as you become the favorite burger joint of multiple star systems, without being forced by any sort of timer or customer annoyance, makes the game a truly relaxing experience. The developers of Galaxy Burger have taken a job that many take for granted, as the experience of working food service in real life is known for rushes of customers, impatient and disorderly people, and the minimum wage, all pointing towards stress being something unavoidable. It’s not like you can’t get stressed in Galaxy Burger still, as customers can pile up on your screen and patties, buns, or vegetables might get left on the grill too long, letting them get burnt, and as you unlock sodas, sides, and increasingly complicated recipes, the game can become quite overwhelming quickly. However, Galaxy Burger gives you the choice to not go that far, just simply asking you to do whatever pleases you, since progression is only asked, not required, making it a stress simulator only if you take it that far. Perhaps taking over the burger competition across the galaxy and just sticking to Earth was the perfect setting for you to relax, but even this cozy game cannot truly escape stress for the player. Stress isn’t always just the consequence of doing too much, but often it can be the result of feeling like you aren’t doing enough.

This spring I played Wanderstop, a cozy game and the newest release from one of my favorite game developers, Davey Wreden, who is known for his subversive narratives and interpretations of genre. In full honesty, I thought the game was going to be initially seeming like a cozy game, but with some sort of out of left field twist at some point that turns the game’s direction towards highlighting the flaws of the ā€œcozy genreā€ term or questioning the genre’s genuinity as it grapples with the intrinsic conflict the medium has between being art and a product meant to be consumed. Instead, what I got was just a cozy game, one that struck me particularly because the trademark subversive writing Wreden is known for wasn’t about the genre at all, but the stress of trying to relax. It’s a confusing phenomenon, but I’m sure that everyone reading this has felt it at least once in their life. It’s the feeling we get trying to calm our nerves before a presentation or awaiting a message or email back from someone, despite the fact you know its out of your hands. In Wanderstop, the protagonist Alta has a serious case of burnout. She’s not only no longer the strongest fighter in the world, but it seems that she cannot even get herself to pick up her sword. The game starts with her lost in a magical forest, serving tea and providing hospitality to wandering travelers at the tea shop Wanderstop while she focuses on trying to recover her strength. Wanderstop is a really cute sort of game, since it feels like the epitome of cozy games with its relaxing music, beautiful visuals, and various chores available creating an atmosphere where you can’t help but just want to take things slow and enjoy the people and space around you. However, the same can’t be said for Alta, as she seems to be constantly worried and complaining to Boro, the owner of Wanderstop, that she always needs something to do. Talking to people, brewing tea, and being a gardener are not only things Alta is used to doing, but things she’d really rather not be spending her time doing. If she has to be here in this clearing, then she’ll be here, as long as it means that she’ll get strong enough to fight again. By the end of the game, it becomes very clear to both Alta and the player that the stress of trying to rest isn’t one to be fought because as Alta puts it, ā€œEven relaxing feels like a job.ā€ Wanderstop is less about stress, but more about rest and the effort it takes to find the right kind of rest, letting us ask what stress we are making for ourselves and if there are ways to change that. The game does this by letting you not have to worry about the actual logistics and issues that come up from running a business or being unemployed, but just to focus on practicing some mindfulness. Just being yourself can be stressful since the expectations and goals we make might not always be the most reasonable or forgiving, so Wanderstop asks us to think about letting those concepts go. It’s clear that stress can be remedied through keeping life slower and simpler, not pushing and pulling ourselves in directions that don’t seem compatible, but sometimes avoiding stress isn’t an option, but maybe it isn’t as complicated as it might seem, just like Wanderstop.

Hardspace: Shipbreaker is a game that is first, a scathing and thorough critique of capitalism and experiencing the life of what blue-collar work is like, and then second, a rather relaxing game about salvaging junk spaceships. The premise of the game is that sometime in the future, long after humanity has learned to make profits in space, that the junk that now surrounds everyone has become a real issue and a new essential job, Shipbreakers, has been created as a result of this. You, a person who needs to make money for some reason whether it be supporting others or yourself, applies to Lynx, the premier company of this salvaging industry. First of all, you are launched into immense debt in order to work at Lynx, starting off at a whopping $1,252,594,441.92 credits because of the fact that you must work under horrendous working conditions and, in the case of death, your consciousness has been constructed in a digital form so that you may be cloned until you pay off your debt. It’s a bleak seeming future for you, but the fact is that there’s no other option. Whether you want to tear down capitalistic systems, someone who argues that capitalism is ultimately beneficial, or really have no clue about any of that, the stress of debt and making money is not a foreign concept to anyone living today. Debt is an essential part of our society, it keeps us afraid from spending too much, not making enough, and reminds us that our lives are only as stable as the economic value we have since things, historically, can quickly snowball out of anyone’s hands. The stress of debt is enough to keep most from ever dipping too low into their funds, but the stress of attempting to get out of debt is a different kind of beast. Hardspace: Shipbreaker has plenty to stay narratively about the value of labor, the risk of revolting, and what it means to just a regular nobody, not a hero, just like everyone else. Most of the gameplay comes in the form of floating around a junkyard with a ship in front of you, your task is to figure out how to cut down the ship into its individual parts so you can correctly junk it and make a profit. The controls are, at first, hard to get accustomed to, but quickly become second nature as you continue cutting down ships and when paired with the game’s Americana soundtrack, you quickly start to forget about the fact you’re even working a job. When you’re in that junkyard, sure there are dangers like highly flammable fuel lines and gigantic pieces of space debris that could kill you instantly, you still are focused on the work at hand. Making sure you’ve planned out your salvage right and that you have enough resources to get through the entire ship without dipping too much into your wages can quickly start to make you feel very detached from the reality of your situation because the work itself is fulfilling. It’s a lesson I had already learned from Galaxy Burger and Wanderstop, but here it seems more prevalent than ever. If the stress and reward of work can pay off to an extent that nothing else seems to matter, there’s a genuine sense of relief there. A way of resting that is about making the best out of what you have around you already, despite the obstacles and the obligations.

A game very near and dear to my heart known as Citizen Sleeper is by no means a traditional ā€œcozy gameā€. It’s interactive fiction at its finest, with hundreds of thousands of words in text, it is essentially a visual novel matched with a life simulator. To quickly explain what Citizen Sleeper plays like, you control a runaway Sleeper, a company's proprietary synthetic clone meant purely for labor, looking to make the most out of their life on Erlin’s eye, a space station meant generally for shipping and trade that has its own moderate population as well. This game is also a critique on capitalism, but with a much different approach to tackling the topic than Hardspace: Shipbreaker, as life on the space station is decided by rolling dice. Every morning that you wake up on the station, you are provided an amount of automatically rolled dice according to your current state–ranging from healthy to nearly dead–and these dice results correspond to the level of effort you can put into tasks during the day. To put it simply, if you’re almost dead and exhausted, you might get two dice with low rolls, making it nearly impossible to complete any work, feed yourself, buy medicine, or defend yourself from corporate hitmen, compared to if you were fully healthy. The game creates this elaborate balance between needing to spend your energy, that you do not have that much control over, in order to pursue your interests and also spending energy on essentials to live. It needs to be said how this can be quite stress inducing, but also how much this style of gameplay does a good job in simulating real life. It’s the constant stress and struggle of living life when you know that anything can go wrong, at any moment, for any reason, and there might not be anything you can do anything about it, but suck it up. Well, that’s not all of it of course. On Erlin’s Eye, there’s a lovable cast of characters that range from stoic ramen booth owners, back alley doctors, ship mechanics, and many more, all of which are other people trying their best to survive and make the best out of life. The game presents many different endings for the Sleeper which all relate to specific options that involve the Sleeper leaving the space station in one form or another, but I didn’t take any of those escapes. It’s not that I thought there was some sort of catch, but that I found to appreciate the Eye for something more than what it actually was. It was a failing, half-built, space station only created for the profit of others, but for many, including my Sleeper, it was the one place I could truly call home. One of my favorite parts about Citizen Sleeper is its soundtrack by Amos Roddy. The music acts as an ambience that turns the constant reading and emotions of disappointment and helplessness into a quietude that encourages not just reflection, but to try to keep going. Citizen Sleeper helped me understand that the stress of completing complex tasks or even just simply existing was almost as important as the relief from stress that might never come because without it, there is no way to truly appreciate the progress and struggle we make in order to get there. And now, I want to talk a little bit more about that cigarette I had.