I do not consider myself a “gamer.” Twenty five years ago I played Nintendo with my friends, had a subscription to Nintendo Power, and was caught up in the Nintendo vs. Sega debate. But by today’s standards, I am a casual gamer, which means if I’m gaming, it’s usually in brief stints… while on the john.

I do appreciate what gaming has become. As someone who once aspired to becoming a visual story-teller, I recognize that video games have the potential to envelop the player in their narratives – more so than film. You often take the role of a character in the story and have some amount of control over how the story plays out. While a feature length film my last 140 minutes, it is not uncommon for a player to be engaged with a video game for dozens of hours over the course of weeks. So many hours of gameplay, story, music and emotion. It’s no wonder that the gaming industry has eclipsed Hollywood.

Eight years ago, my wife was diagnosed with intramedullary astrocytoma tumors in her spinal cord. The following six months brought us a maelstrom of doctors, surgeons, fear, grief and life-changing consequences. After her surgery to remove the tumors, we spent about a month at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore while she recovered. There were many sleepless nights and often I found myself alone. Hannah had it far worse than I did. At night, in the cold, dark hospital room, I took out my iPad, launched a game I had been meaning to play, and distracted myself

Bastion

Bastion is an action role-playing video game developed by independent developer Supergiant Games. Originally released on Xbox Live Arcade, it had been released for a year or so before I was able to play it on my iPad. In the game, you take on the role of "the Kid" as he moves through a beautifully surreal environment in the wake of an apocalyptic event. For me, the game’s defining feature was the use of a narrator who offers background story while also acting as an observer to your progress, making realtime commentary along the way.

The game opens with the narrator speaking.

Now here’s a kid whose whole world got twisted, leaving him stranded on a rock in the sky. -Narrator

The opening line could not be more poignant. I understand what a feat of projection that is.

By the time Hannah was diagnosed, I had already had my crisis of faith. The religion of my youth had already disappointed me by this point. I had done a lot of questioning. Was I now being punished for my doubt? I was promised I would never be burdened with something I could not handle. Was this a test?

“God is good” became the mantra that I would repeat to myself. Maybe if I said it, he would heal my wife? Or, I told myself this expecting things to get bleak and hoping that he would make the best of it as long as I reminded him enough. Probably some of both.

God did not heal my wife. She continues to suffer in pain. Our life was forever changed. Here’s a kid whose whole world got twisted, leaving him stranded on a rock in the sky.

The kid just rages for a while. -Narrator

In Bastion, challenges appear in front of you as you progress through its colorful, shimmering, and broken world. Sound familiar?

Your primary weapon is your “lifelong friend” a hammer. With this hammer you break objects to find collectables and, when it comes to it, you crush your enemies. Where was my hammer? How would I defend myself from a world that, turns out, is not safe?

I did rage for a while. Bastion gave me the vehicle by which I could clobber the dark thoughts and demons that came into view. Or, at least, pretend like I was while hunched over my iPad as Hannah lay in painful, drug-induced sleep beside me.

For the next year, Hannah and I would rage together. Infected surgery wound? We raged with Manuka honey (it worked). White haired women who stared us down as we parked in the spots reserved for the handicapped? Rage. That nagging feeling that you’ve just been bitch slapped by a cold, uncaring, and perhaps godless universe? I was upset

Bastion features a rich, multi-layered original soundtrack by Darren Korb. It has a tribal, driven feel to it. Mostly instrumental, save for the narrator’s appearance in the intro and a couple of other tracks.

I dig my hole, you build a wall. -Lyric from the soundtrack

When I get a beat from Bastion’s music stuck in my head, I cannot help but recall that hospital, the smell of it, it’s fluorescent hallways, the yellow gowns I was made to wear when inside.

Over the years, I built my own walls (a bead in Bastion’s story). I guarded myself from the expectation of anything positive in my life, bracing myself for the next cosmic blow. I attempted to build wall as around Hannah, to protect her. I built walls between her and I to defend myself from the fear that now infected our relationship.

All this takes a lot of getting used to, and you do get used to it, after a while. -Narrator

After 8 years, with the help of professionals, introspection and medical science, I have broken down some of the barriers between myself and my happiness. The ruins of those walls still surround me. Time heals all wounds, but you’re still left with scars and a limp. You get used to it, after a while.

A few months ago, feeling nostalgic, I downloaded Bastion to my new iPad. I thought I wanted to revisit the game, its lush graphics, soundtrack, and the confident voice of its narrator. I launched the app but could not get myself beyond the title screen. Bastion did what it needed to 8 years ago. It could have been any other game that left such an imprint during a traumatic event. Next time, I’ll lose myself in another game and be happy for the distraction.