On November 6, I was abruptly stirred from sleep by the relentless beeping of my alarm, which seemed oblivious to my restless night filled with anxiety about the uncertain world awaiting me. There was no time for second-guessing; I needed to confront the reality. I quickly opened the CNN tab I had been compulsively refreshing the night before, glanced at the election results I had anticipated, and closed my screen just as swiftly. Time was pressing, as I had only 45 minutes before I needed to catch a cab to the airport. Ironically, I was scheduled for a morning flight to Canada. In the shower, I felt a growing emptiness in my chest and began to question whether I would even return from this trip in three days. This feeling was not unfamiliar; I had experienced it twice before—once in 2016 when I awoke to a shocking political landscape, and again in 2022 when the tragic news of a close friend’s car accident reached me. Each of these instances left me paralyzed, clutching my phone, searching for clarity amidst chaos.
Arriving at the airport two hours ahead of schedule—an ingrained habit reinforced by my parents during my formative years—I was struck by the eerie calm that contrasted sharply with the usual hustle and bustle of John F. Kennedy Airport. After a brisk pass through security, I found myself with an hour of solitude. Should I check my phone? I attempted it for a brief moment, but was met with the anguished posts of others sharing in my distress. Frustrated by my inability to assist, I quickly turned off my screen. Instead, I reached for my Nintendo Switch, hoping to immerse myself in the game I had begun downloading the previous night. But fate had other plans; my download had stalled overnight, thwarting my attempts to escape reality. This minor inconvenience felt like the last straw. Overwhelmed by hopelessness, I sat in silence for an hour, broken only by a man reading news stories to a woman nearby who had buried her head in her knees. When the boarding announcement finally came, I trudged to my seat like a zombie, bracing myself for a long hour ahead filled with my dual anxieties: the fear of flying and the dread of what awaited me upon landing.
In search of a distraction, I pulled out my Steam Deck and began browsing my library, hoping something would provide a temporary reprieve from my worries. My cursor hovered over UFO 50, a compilation of challenging 8-bit games in which I had already invested over 80 hours since its release. Having cleared a significant portion of the collection, I realized that the remaining challenges seemed insurmountable. Yet, I opened the app, needing any form of distraction for the next hour. It was then that my gaze fell upon my most formidable challenge: Velgress. This game, known for its punishing difficulty, had consistently outmatched me since its launch. In Velgress, players take on the role of Alpha, a space pirate ensnared by the malevolent Princess Charkas. The game begins with a brief narrative introduction accompanied by ominous music, and while I had survived the initial fall, I now found myself surrounded by monsters in a dark pit, with the sole mission of escaping—a task far easier said than done.
Like many retro-style games, Velgress is unforgiving. There are no checkpoints, meaning a single mistake sends players back to the start. My attempts to navigate the treacherous terrain often ended in failure, whether from miscalculating a jump or being hit by a projectile. More often than not, my biggest enemy was myself; panic would set in, causing me to hesitate or act impulsively, leading to inevitable demise. Despite my long history with Velgress, I instinctively decided to load it up again, even though it had only ever brought me frustration. I had spent countless nights swearing at the screen, feeling trapped in a cycle of failure. This time, however, I was determined to find a way through. I needed a sign that I could conquer this challenge.
As I began my first few attempts, the familiar pattern of failure emerged; I repeatedly fell to my death. It became clear that my previous strategies were ineffective, necessitating a new approach. With renewed determination, I gripped my Steam Deck tighter, focusing every ounce of energy on controlling Alpha. A transformation occurred; I shifted from skittish movements to purposeful actions. Each press of the A button became deliberate, and I found myself navigating the game with newfound confidence. I began to utilize my enemies to gain height, clearing the first biome with surprising ease. As I progressed through the second biome, I noticed a white line representing my previous best attempt, and I was now surpassing it with every run. Before long, I reached Level 3, a milestone I had never achieved before. Unlike previous levels, this one introduced an underwater theme, where I bounced between bubbles and leaped off fish. However, a massive sea creature soon emerged, obliterating everything in its path, and I met my demise once again. As I replayed, the plane suddenly hit turbulence, sending my heart racing and causing me to lose focus, resulting in another failure.
As fear gripped me, I was reminded of the real-world challenges I faced. A political shift in my home country posed threats to my loved ones, while advancements in technology, such as generative AI, threatened my livelihood. High rent, deteriorating eyesight, and the loss of friends added to my overwhelming sense of despair. But I refused to give in. I was determined to conquer Velgress. With renewed resolve, I launched into another attempt, starting from scratch once more. This time, I leaped confidently from platform to platform, charging through the first level without issue. Upon reaching the second biome, I became acutely aware of my surroundings, distinguishing between bombs and helpful gadgets. I navigated through the obstacles with newfound agility, making it to Level 3 without breaking a sweat. My old nemesis, the giant fish, swooped down once again, but this time, I sidestepped it with ease, recognizing my own strength.
In that moment, I realized that I was no longer the frightened creature; the monster was. It was the one desperately lashing out to protect itself. I took a leap of faith, jumping onto its body, which propelled me to a distant platform. The once intimidating foe was now merely another stepping stone in my journey. As I climbed higher, an elevator platform finally came into view, symbolizing my progress. I had escaped the labyrinth of despair I once thought insurmountable. As I made my final ascent, the skyline of Montreal appeared outside the airplane window, a sight that filled me with hope. As the game concluded, a message appeared on the screen—Princess Charkas was still alive, indicating that my quest was far from over. Upon checking the game menu, I discovered a secret ending that required collecting keys to confront Charkas in a final battle. My adventure was not finished, and neither was my journey. The plane landed, and as I powered down my Steam Deck, a smile crept onto my face for the first time in hours. Though I had not yet won the overall battle, I was confident I could. I had learned to navigate the arduous obstacles life presented, and while I may not defeat Charkas on my next attempt, I believed that eventually, I would triumph. The true fight was just beginning.
