I played Depression Quest, a 2013 interactive fiction game developed by Zoë Quinn, Patrick Lindsey, and Isaac Shankler. I played it on the Chrome browser on my laptop. The game is a text-based story where you play as someone living with depression. It’s pretty different from other games I’ve played. There are no battles or puzzles or graphics, just choices, paragraphs, and can be quite emotional.
What immediately stood out to me is how the game limits your choices. Sometimes you’ll be presented with a few options, but a lot of times the one that seems healthiest or most logical is grayed out and unclickable. I kept trying to click the grayed-out line, but eventually I realized it was intentional. I think in this way the game did a great job of simulating what it’s like to know what the “right” or most logical thing to do would be, but not feel capable of it. It made me feel stuck, exactly like the protagonist of the interactive novel feels, which was frustrating, but also accurate.
Depression Quest is very simple. There’s no music or animation. The visuals are just a grey background and red links, but I think it works for the game. That minimalism made me think of reading someone’s private diary, which adds to the discomfort, but in an intentional way.
Playing this game through a feminist lens after reading Play Like a Feminist made me think about how rarely games focus on feelings like this. Most games are about winning or solving things. Depression Quest does the opposite. Instead of trying to make you“win”, it’s trying to make you feel something real. Shira Chess discussed how we need more games that “affirm the labor of emotionality”, which is exactly what Depression Quest does. The game doesn’t have any sort of “chapters” or any indication of how long the story is, which really makes it seem like you’re living a real life, not working towards any specific action or solutions.
There are 3 text boxes at the bottom of the screen indicating your current depressive mood, your status of seeing a therapist, and status of taking medication. In this way, although the game doesn’t directly say it, it is encouraging you to take steps to change these 3 boxes. The progress was quite slow, but eventually I was able to get to a moderate level of depression.
Although overall I enjoyed the takeaways from this game, there are some things I thought about that could have been done differently. For example, the protagonist is never really described, which at first lets you project yourself onto them, no matter what your identity is. However, the protagonist is also working in an office job, has access to therapy appointments, a supportive female partner, and a mom who’s sort of aware something is wrong but doesn’t fully understand. Depression would likely show up very differently for someone who identifies as queer, trans, disabled, or not financially stable enough to afford therapy and medication. Although I understand that it is impossible to include every identity in a game, more identity context, or acknowledging how people’s identities can affect their mental health, would have made the game feel more inclusive.
The main mechanic in the game is just making choices, but because so many options are grayed out, the dynamic creates helplessness and frustration. This creates an aesthetic of empathy, and helps you think about what someone else might be experiencing every day.
Depression Quest definitely expanded my lens, but I also want to see more games that talk about depression from different perspectives, including the LGBT community, people of color, people who can’t afford therapy or don’t have family support.nOverall, I’m glad I played Depression Quest. It wasn’t exactly fun, but it definitely helped teach me more about what someone with depression might be experiencing everyday.
