From Cyberpunk 2077 to House Flipper: What’s Inside My Mental Health Medkit

My name is Darkstar Shady: I’m a lifelong gamer.

My name is Stephan Starnes: I’ve struggled with my mental health my entire life.

A lot of people in the world think that video games are a waste of time. For me, video games are my biggest tool for keeping my brain in check. 

My entire life has been a rollercoaster, and you wouldn’t believe it if I actually did type it out. From instability in my home life as a child, dropping out of college and multiple relationships ending throughout my adult life, video games have been my one true constant. 

From the first time I picked up an NES controller at 4 years old to getting lost in modern worlds on my PlayStation 5, I’ve grown to love almost every genre. The range isn’t random, it’s how I’ve learned to cope with my emotions and the pressure that life throws at me.

Escaping Adulthood

Nearly everyone hits a point when they think “Why did I ever want to grow up?” or “Wow, it’s hard to be an adult.”

In the year of 2025, everything is harder than it should be. The cost of living is astronomical, and every day the news only gets bleaker.

Being a kid meant not realizing how heavy life can get, and video games help me reconnect with that lighter version of myself.

My physical retro gaming collection has shrunk over the years due to space, but it’s still a big part of my life. I sold off my NES, SNES and Sega Genesis and invested in a Retron 5, a console that plays multiple older systems and enhances them with upscaling, save states and wireless controllers. 

Super Mario Bros. and Super Mario World are games I can still get lost in. The muscle memory of running through each simplistic, vibrant world is locked into my hands. It’s easy to tune out the horrors and jump over goombas and find powerups instead.

My Anbernic handhelds are loaded with games, my remaining physical copies packed away with no room to display them. Memories of sitting around the television with my cousins, passing around the controller for turns on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater come rushing back as I lay in bed with a system that looks just like my childhood Game Boy Color. 

When that’s too loud or too action-oriented, I start a new playthrough of Pokémon Silver, the simple RPG that I put 150 hours into as a 10-year-old. The nostalgia of journeying through the Johto and Kanto regions takes me back to a time when trying to get my next gym badge was my biggest concern.

Quieting My Thoughts

There are days my brain won’t stop pulling me in every direction at once.

Other days, the intensity of connecting with others is too overwhelming. Even though I crave that connection, I can’t keep myself in the moment. 

The struggle to keep everything on track makes it impossible to function, even against my own will. The way I cope with it all is laughably ironic.

Games like House Flipper, PowerWash Simulator, PC Building Simulator and TCG Card Shop Simulator are exactly what my brain craves to unwind. 

Real cleaning has depth to it. Real work has interactions with others not in your control. 

House Flipper is just a click to clean the floor; PowerWash Simulator is dirt I can’t feel under my own fingers. PC Building Simulator’s customers leave their computer at my door and send me an email. The card shop’s bad reviews don’t affect my livelihood and mood. And those packs of cards I endlessly open? They don’t cost real money.

I can be creative in House Flipper. Sorting through endless colors and types of furniture to freely design a home is a luxury I don’t have. When even that digital fantasy is too overwhelming, I can accept the in-game jobs and just click away the dirt and broken walls to make things whole again. 

My brain can go into autopilot. I can be productive without needing to be.

Building a Win

No matter how hard I try, sometimes, things just go wrong. 

When I worked in retail sales, I had customers who knew how to ask all the right questions. They would hear my advice, listen to my sales pitches and just walk away. Or worse, ignore my recommendation and buy whatever was the cheapest, throwing off my hard work on improving attachment metrics.

I’ve had relationships where I thought things were going well. I’d put in the effort with someone, only for them to not appreciate the dinner I had cooked, or want to cancel the plans I had been thinking about for a month.

The effort I put in doesn’t always lead to the payoff I crave.

I’ve been playing sports games since I got Tecmo Super Bowl on the NES. Tennis on the NES was one of my early favorites. I have formed a much deeper love of modern sports games.

I’m that guy with every year’s new Madden. I love playing baseball video games, but usually skip a year here and there. I even played the WWE 2K franchise when I was on hiatus from the television product.

Whether it’s Madden 25 or MLB The Show, I can sit and build a franchise that I know will work. I can adjust the difficulty to a place that provides a stimulating challenge, but still get more wins than losses. The Super Bowl and the World Series are achievable year after year by setting the perfect lineups.

I can build my dream roster in WWE 2K25 and put the belts on the superstars that truly deserve them. The matches and storylines are mine to control. My fantasy booking isn’t just a tweet that won’t come true. Even if the matches aren’t received well, there are instant results I can use to adjust.

Entire teams and companies are in my control, and I get to build them up and watch the W’s pile up.

Breathe. Break. Repeat.

A digital win feels good–seeing “Darkstar Shady” in big letters as Super Bowl-winning coach never gets old.

Then there are days when everything snowballs. I get chewed out by upper management, go home and order DoorDash, but the food is completely screwed up.

I drop the last glass of fruit punch, already a breath away from crying. 

Someone ghosts me after weeks of buildup.

Everything builds up until I hit the wall, either I’m going to scream or become a full-on Kyle, chug a Monster and punch through the drywall. 

Those are the days I blast Avenged Sevenfold, Ice Nine Kills and The Word Alive while I spawn into a fast-paced shooter.

Call of Duty: Black Ops 6 and Gears 5 are my go-tos. Even when I’m rusty and the maps feel unfamiliar, I lose myself in the carnage. Running through Blazetown with an XM4, dying, respawning and pushing again is cathartic. 

Watching bodies explode as I rush them with a Gnasher? There’s nothing like it.

After a few matches, the rhythm returns. K/D climbs. Anger drops.

Shared Worlds, Pixelated Company

Companionship has taken different forms throughout my life. I’ve lived with my family, I’ve lived alone. I’ve been married and we made our own home. Now, I’m living with my family again.

Some friendships have drifted, and even the closest ones are hard to find time for in person.

During the pandemic, Animal Crossing: New Horizons felt like a lifeline. My then-wife and I would grab our Switches and visit islands with friends who are spread all across the country.

When I need something more intense, I’d get a few friends and play PUBG: Battlegrounds. A few of us would strategize how best to wipe out other squads. It’s nice to lock in and play Gears 5 without a party, but sometimes I need to release that anger with friends.

A Discord server full of chatter and laughter isn’t always possible. Being alone doesn’t always mean being lonely.

The Last of Us draws me into a beautifully crafted, father-daughter-like relationship. There’s plenty of action, but what kept me coming back was watching Joel’s bond with Ellie grow. Becoming Joel and feeling their connection gave me a sense of companionship, even when I was alone.

Replaying the game at higher difficulties kept it a challenge as I experienced their story all over again.

Whether it’s physical distance or my own overstimulation keeping me alone, the real world can feel out of reach. But a good story with strong connections can still ground me.

Craving Purpose, Finding It in Other Worlds

I have all these ways to cope, yet my brain finds ways to make them meaningless.

Not just the coping methods. 

Everything. 

It doesn’t matter if I win. If the anger is gone. Whether my friends reach out or not.

Nothing helps.

Being alone in my own head is the worst place I can be.

Dark thoughts eat away at me, tearing down the vision of myself I’m trying to hold. Doubt in my own abilities undermines every attempt I make to push away those thoughts.

Maybe I’ll never reach the next level. Maybe I’m not meant for the life I have. Maybe I’m just not good enough to be here.

I complain that my brain can’t finish tasks; I’m always thinking about three other things. But on the other end of the spectrum, my hyperfocus lets me disappear into another world just to make it through.

My Cyberpunk 2077 playthrough was 70+ hours of immersion. I forgot this world and became V. Work had become too much, my relationship too hard. Every chance I had, I stepped into Night City and made it mine. Maybe Night City actually made me its own.

For 70 hours, I created a version of myself that I could actually handle. I was a tough netrunner that hacked my way through the city. I found styles of clothing I liked and cars I enjoyed racing around. I followed every romance thread and obsessed over every dialogue choice.

In Marvel’s Spider-Man, I didn’t have to create a character. I was my favorite superhero. I got to be Peter Parker and live in New York City, swinging across rooftops and fighting crime. I got to fall in love with the best version of Mary Jane Watson I’ve ever known.

These games were more than just stories. These games were lifelines. 

These games were an escape from The Bad Place, helping me survive a world too heavy to bear.

Killing Time? Keeping Myself Alive

Whether I’m playing Valheim with my friend across town–because seeing people in person is hard–or finishing another playthrough of Cyberpunk 2077 (this time as a shotgun wielding Nomad), video games are what keep me in this world.

I find clarity and focus in simulators. I escape to simpler times with something retro. I fight off imposter syndrome through sports games. The relationships I build with other characters give me the community I need when the real one is unavailable.

And sometimes? I’m just pissed off and need to hop online and kill something.

Whatever the reason, one thing is certain.

Video games are never a waste of time.