When I started playing ‘The Escapists’, I didn’t expect it to make me reflect on morality. My first thoughts on this pixelated prison escape game were that it felt absurd and goofy at first glance. However, after about two hours of gameplay, I found myself becoming a skillful rebel and figuring out multiple ways to plot my escape. I found it pretty interesting that between the monotonous and rigid schedule of waking up, roll call, eating, job time, free period, and sleep, the player is expected to tactically find ways to break out. But as I reflected on my experience and read through Weaver and Lewis’s 2012 paper on morality, I found myself feeling oddly guilty, despite being a pixelated character in a pixelated world.
The Escapists doesn’t explicitly present you with moral choices in the same way that Fallout 3 does, as mentioned in the 2012 paper. There aren’t blatantly inhumane or gory scenarios, at least from what I encountered. But I did feel like morality shows up in subtle ways. The whole premise is to help prisoners escape, which is, technically, immoral. The game motivated me to sneak through people’s desks, some of whom were inmates I had just eaten meals with, while they were off at work. I stole files from people I had been helping minutes before. While it didn’t bother me at the time, given the fact that it’s just a game and the goal is escaping, reflecting on it later made me think about what it might be teaching children or impressionable players.
This made me think more deeply about what the 2012 paper discussed: that players often bring their real world moral compass into gameplay, even in virtual spaces where no real harm is done. I found it interesting that in their study with Fallout 3, players mostly behaved the way they would in real life, and behaviors like being rude or violent made them feel guilty, even though it didn’t reduce their enjoyment. I wasn’t actively thinking about morality while playing The Escapists, but it was almost funny how easily I enjoyed deceiving and stealing from characters I had helped or interacted with, just because it was part of the plan.
What’s interesting is that ‘The Escapists’ don’t frame these actions as bad or immoral, but instead as strategic elements needed to play the game. Players are quickly taught that if you want to escape, you’ll need resources, and one of the easiest and most effective ways to get them is through deceit or immoral techniques like stealing. I also consider myself a rule follower who avoids trouble, and I noticed that I kept to that even in the game. I stuck to non-problematic, safe moves whenever possible. I avoided beating up guards unless it was absolutely necessary. Weaver and Lewis mention how moral decisions can emerge spontaneously, even in fictional settings with no real stakes, and I definitely saw that play out in how I made choices.
Another thing that caught my attention was how ‘The Escapists’ is a slow and strategic game, which gives players the space to reflect on their decisions. That makes the morality of it feel more pressing. I imagine that in fast paced action games, even if the gameplay involves harming others, it doesn’t feel immoral because everything’s happening so quickly. But in the game, the ability to plan and execute your actions is where much of the guilt seems to come from: because you’re consciously choosing every step, not just reacting.
Looking back, it’s wild how a silly looking game like ‘The Escapists’ can surface real questions about morality, strategy, and how we see ourselves, even in a totally made up world. I went in thinking I’d just play around and escape a prison and now can agree that in some capacity it feels deeper than that.
