I love video games. I love buying them (too much), and I love playing them. What I don’t love, at all, is that feeling I get when I finish them. And I think that’s probably a familiar statement to pretty much everyone who reads this! Game’s are more than just stories to me, they’re an escape, a world of possibilities to explore, and most importantly, at times they’re a comfort.

Which makes having to abandon them as soon as the credits roll a real bummer, amiright? The first time I completed Super Mario Galaxy at the age of nine I was confused by the wave of emptiness that overtook me in the following days. Defeating Beast Ganon in Breath of the Wild was a tough one too, how can I just turn away from an adventure I had invested 100s of hours into? My final submission is Tunic, definitely don’t go read my sprawling impressions of that one… Which after reimagining my entire view of video games, promptly ended and took me back to staring at my backlog with a melancholic tinge, wishing to dive back into its mysterious world.

So is there any real logic or science behind this? Are we just hyperemotional beings that can’t handle finishing things we enjoy, or is their something deeper going on here…

The Logic Behind It All

‘Post-game depression‘ is the ascribed term for this whole situation, and is the same depression experienced by book lovers, or someone who’s just finished the finale of their favourite show. Why though? Why do we form some an attachment with fictional experiences that once we no longer have that experience we miss it as if it was real? The scientific answer is that we’ve all been had, by a devilish thing known as parasocial attachment theory. Primarily seen through relationships formed between fans of pop stars, athletes, and so on, parasocial relationships are one-sided attachments, and sound exactly like the kind of relationships gamers build with not only games, but the characters and the worlds within them.

We (those who play games) fall into scenarios where we will have entirely one-way interactions with the games we play. Whether this is certain locations, a in-game quest, or even an entire RPG party’s worth of characters, all those (sometimes repeated) interactions are very real from our brains perspective. In fact, the act of continuing to engage with those same things further perpetuates this whole schtick. Humans, and our brains, love the familiar, so even a war-torn, monster-filled Hyrule becomes more comforting as we spend more time there.

In the same way you grieve the loss of a family member, a friend, or even a relationship, a similar emotion takes hold after you see the credits roll on your favourite game of the moment. Your brain recognises several things in this instant, firstly that the experience is over, and then, more importantly for this subject, it begins to process the ending of that experience. Most of the time, especially if we’ve invested a good chunk of time or emotion into a game, this processing of an ending will lead to sadness and emptiness, as our brain struggles to fathom moving forward after severing the strong emotional ties we’ve developed to a game’s lovable cast.

I find it quite beautiful that video games are capable of stimulating such responses in people. It is entirely legitimate to experience various degrees of sadness after closing down a game for, potentially, the last time. It isn’t relevant that this emotion has been created as a result of a fictional experience, your brain knows no difference.

Can We Avoid It?

After spending many words explaining how inevitable and acceptable all of this is, now I’m talking about how to dodge those feelings?! Hear me out, because although I think post-game depression is a completely normal response to finishing a great game, I have found a few tricks that help me along the way.

Firstly, the most obvious thing to do is immediately boot up something else and dive right into a new game. Essentially the rebound route, its quick (and easy in theory), and with the state of most people’s backlogs nowadays there’s plenty of choice. Maximise your odds of finding a game that fits by making a note (real or mental) of the best parts of the game you’re trying to get over, and looking for a game in your library that shares a few of those traits. Or… do the opposite! Go a bit crazy and search that backlog high and low for something weird that offers up an entirely different experience from the one you’ve just wrapped up. Both methods have worked for me before, and can kick start your recovery.

If you’re not quite ready to say goodbye there’s another option. Wrapped up a 100% run through of Breath of the Wild or Tears of the Kingdom and still desperate for more Hyrule? You know you can just replay it right? Why not try a harder difficulty, or set some of your own restrictions nuzlocke style? Even if a game doesn’t give players a lot of options to vary up repeated playthroughs, self-imposed challenges can offer up experiences that are even more enjoyable than a vanilla run. I personally don’t enjoy replaying games, especially so quickly after I finished them first time, but I know a lot of people who gain a lot from playing their favourites over and over, so this is for you!

Method number three is similar. It’s quite hard nowadays to experience long-lasting video games series in the ‘correct’ order, how many times are we going to play through the ‘Final Fantasy’ for example. This can serve you well though, especially if you’ve just wrapped up your first experience in a series with a boat load of entries. I had a similar experience myself when Breath of the Wild launched. The empty sensation I felt upon completing the main game, and eventually all DLC offerings, was somewhat placated by my consequential deep dive into the epic history of Zelda. I’ve done the same with Pikmin more recently, and it’s a brilliant way to spend a bit more time with your favourite games by revisiting the foundations that brought them to where they are today.

Probably my favourite ways I process that empty feeling after finishing a game is by diving into subreddits, Youtube videos and other similar styles of content that can easily extend the time I spend with that game’s world even if I’m not literally playing it. Earlier this year I wrapped up a Tunic playthrough and proceeded to spend a lot of time reading and discussing theories with fellow players on the games subreddit, something which was super fun and let me invest even more time into one of my favourite games of the last few years.

‘The End – Thanks For Playing!’

So if you’ve ever had that melancholy feeling after seeing the credits roll on your latest great adventure, know you’re not alone. It’s normal, and if anything it shows just how valuable videogames are in your life, and that’s ok too. Ultimately, to me at least, videogames are an escape from reality, they’re a way for me to temporarily rid myself of the confusion and fear that I experience in my own life. In a world full of uncertainty, I find comfort in travelling to great kingdoms, or discovering strange new lands, or even experiencing the complex time-travelling plot of <insert your favourite JRPG here>. So when they come to end and you finally leave those places and characters for perhaps the last time ever, I don’t just lose those ‘virtual’ relationships, I also suddenly find myself back in the real world again.

That means I am no longer embodying the rebel spirit of fallen Samurai Jin Sakai, nor am I the latest iteration of Hyrule’s chosen one who must rid the world of a dark evil, and that can suck a little. Call me a bit cheesy but that’s how I experience games, and it makes it all the harder when those incredibly journey’s end.

So what’s the point of this then, am I telling you to just never finish games? Of course not! Just make sure you enjoy those good times while you can experience them, and make sure you take care of yourself when they come to end. Be grateful that you’re able to allow the wonderful world of videogames to let you feel those things, because that is a gift in itself.

Don’t be sad when the credits roll, be glad you loved the experience enough to see them