Why I turned Kingdom Hearts on
Lying in bed unable to sleep, generally feeling pretty rotten and overwhelmed by situations surrounding me, I felt the draw to game quietly and try to pull myself out of the slump. I hadn’t streamed in a week, and when I had, it felt monotonous. I didn’t feel committed to the games I’d chosen.
Feeling fragile, I decided to replay Kingdom Hearts III. To be honest, I needed Goofy, affectionate and optimistic, and I needed Donald, grumpy and affected. Both of my spirit animals rolled into one. I also wanted to hit things!!! The Keyblade is pretty satisfying to bash Heartless with while swinging from the architecture at high speed!
There's something about returning to a world you already know, too. I didn't have to learn who these people were or what kind of experience I was getting myself into. I knew Donald would annoy me, Goofy would make me feel weirdly safe, and Sora would probably say something painfully sincere. Familiarity takes some of the work out of existing for a while.
I wanted nostalgia, comfort and a distraction from the hurt life had thrown at me lately. Something that felt close and intimate; a solo experience, but with some supportive chums. Kingdom Hearts III has all of that and more.
“Face My Fears” suddenly meant something
Hikaru Utada & Skrillex - Face My Fears [Official Video]
Sitting on stream, loading up the game, I was struck by the incredible music. I was listening to it in a new way; it was hitting my ears differently than it had when I’d played before, back when I was feeling generally okay about my life.
The “Face My Fears” cutscene played, and the sincerity in Hikaru Utada’s voice cut through the veil of normality and caught me right in the feels! Life feels pretty bleak right now. I’ve lost a connection to someone who meant a great deal to me, and in other areas of my life as well, things just feel hopeless.
I had already started to feel like I needed a “day one” reset — to start thinking about me again and investing in myself. Those lyrics hit me hard and came at a time when I really needed them. I truly do need to face my fears of life right now and rally.
The combination of chocolate-smooth Hikaru, twinned with the glitchy in-and-out of Skrillex’s signature sound, made it hit deeper still. My ADHD brain connected with it, and an itch I didn’t even know I had was truly scratched in satisfaction.
Without realising, I was shaking and nodding my head to the beat, and I found myself feeling markedly better… hopeful, even? Lame, I know.
I felt drawn to “watch me cry all my tears… let me face my fears.” It felt like it was narrating my life currently and showing me what I was going to do next. Powerful stuff when you’re feeling so low you don’t even realise you need a sign to keep going!
Kingdom Hearts has always been ridiculously sincere
Friendship, fear, losing people, finding people again, choosing hope anyway. Those sentiments have always felt a bit… cheesy. Care Bear kind of cringe. DISNEY through and through!
But something about the way they’re presented in Kingdom Hearts feels like a soft hug when you’re needing one.
I could easily have played DOOM, but I CHOSE to play Kingdom Hearts for the same reasons I’d put on a Disney film when I’m feeling crappy: sometimes I just need that. I need to feel understood, and these themes are very present in my life right now. I don’t want something that’s going to emotionally batter me and leave me feeling worse. I need to feel understood, but with kid gloves maybe. Guided through it.
It works because it isn’t entirely Disney love and cuddles. I can still get my rage out with my Keyblade selection, just not in a visceral or violent way. It still feels pretty powerful to do, even while being watched over by your childhood heroes.
I hadn’t played any of the Kingdom Hearts games before III, but I did grab it at release back in 2019. I think back then, whether it was because I was feeling better about life or just generally saw it as a game, I didn’t connect with it like I have this time.
Something has changed. Or maybe I’ve just picked it up at exactly the time I needed it.
Either way, it hit.
It really did.
Comfort games aren’t just escapism
Did playing Kingdom Hearts III solve life’s problems? No.
Did it give me somewhere for my brain to sit for a few hours of peace, without constantly replaying every mistake I’ve made and the pain I feel currently? Yes.
It also reminded me that there is more to life than just what’s around me right now, even if I can’t see it. It felt genuinely therapeutic.
Gaming can be emotional regulation just as much as escapism. When you’re completely alone in the night with nothing but desolation and despair, everything can feel more isolating, amplified by the silence and your surroundings.
Getting into a safe place in a game, being able to switch off while still hearing messages of optimism and hope — even in a really cheesy way — can help. Sometimes the cliché is exactly what you need to help swallow the pill.
I didn’t need someone sitting beside me telling me everything was going to be okay, directly applying that sentiment to my personal situation. I think I needed to absorb it indirectly through the experience of the game.
It felt less obvious, but somehow just as effective, if not more so, because I came to those conclusions myself rather than having them injected into me by somebody else.
There can sometimes be pressure to try and be okay when people are telling you to pick yourself up — and fear around what happens if you can’t.
But when you’re sitting there whacking things literally called Heartless, it felt like I’d taken some of that physical and mental upset out on the demons appearing in the game and, in very Disney fashion… some of the ones inside myself too.
Maybe facing your fears doesn’t look heroic
Sometimes it’s not a Keyblade and a giant boss.
Sometimes it’s getting out of bed, streaming again, exercising, writing, making plans and accepting uncertainty. It’s knowing that whatever is ahead, you’re not alone.
Even if I can’t summon a really cool pirate ship in real life, I think I’ll be okay.
