I downloaded Celeste on my Switch a couple years ago! I loved being able to dive back into it for this assignment. Celeste is a pixel platform released in 2018 by the indie game studio Maddy Makes Games. It’s available on a bunch of platforms, including PC, Nintendo Switch, Xbox, and PlayStation.
Celeste puts the player smack dab in the middle of a snowy mountain by the name of Celeste. The player acts as Madeline, a trans girl ascending the Celeste Mountain. Along the way, Celeste interacts with characters and has conversations with them that allowed me to understand more about the Madeline herself. Madeline seems nonchalant and uninterested.While I played the game, I got the vibe that Madeline was going on this crazy adventure trekking up a dangerous mountain all in an attempt to find herself. The more time I spent playing the game, the more I found myself wound up in Madeline’s personal development. I watched her make choices (I made them right along with her) and watched the way she spoke to everyone she met—from abandoned hotel ghosts to the dwellers of the mountain. Using dialogue is a very clever way of establishing an emotional connection between player and game. The mountain becomes a metaphor for the anxiety Madeline faces and her self-doubt and depression. Madeline’s mental health struggles end up turning into this alternative character that chases her around for part of the game. This narrative device makes her inner conflict a tangible part of the game and pulls players into her emotional dilemma.
I believe what also makes the story resonate even more with Celeste is how it is integrated with the gameplay. The platforming challenges get a little bit hard at times (There’s an easier mode just for situations like these!) but they end up being accomplishments that add to Madeline’s personal growth. The writing for the dialogue between the characters and Madeline’s own thoughts made me root for her to succeed and grow and heal. The writing is empathetic, with dialogue that is vulnerable, authentic, and even humorous at times, making Madeline feel like a real person rather than just a player avatar. This narrative-gameplay integration makes her journey feel personal, which in turn makes players genuinely root for her to succeed—not just to beat the game, but to grow and heal.
I think one ethical question that Celeste raises is how responsible should game designers should be when depicting mental health struggles in interactive media. The game deals openly with anxiety, depression, and self-doubt, using metaphor and gameplay to reflect Madeline’s emotional journey. While it’s widely praised for its sensitive and authentic portrayal, it also invites reflection on whether gamifying such serious topics risks trivializing them for entertainment. Is it ethical to turn mental health into a game mechanic, even if the intent is empathetic and educational? Or can interactive storytelling actually be one of the most respectful and powerful ways to represent these issues—by giving players agency in the healing process? Celeste walks this line thoughtfully, but it prompts a broader ethical discussion about the balance between narrative authenticity and respectful representation in games tackling deeply personal themes.
