I am not a gamer. That's notable since I came of age during the time a lot of people consider the golden age of arcade games. I was teen at exactly the moment Space Invaders, Asteroids, Frogger and Pac-Man were revolutionizing video games. That I did not embrace games or gaming at that time can be attributed to a near-comical lack of hand-eye coordination. My general ineptitude ensured that games were not a great value proposition for me, and I quickly learned that my precious quarters were better invested in other pursuits (scale models and tabletop board games for example).
That preamble aside, I do occasionally play games. In that capacity, and because my hand-eye coordination has not improved with age, I favor only the most gentle of games; that is, ones that don't involve a lot of skill or dexterity or particularly sharp reflexes.
One of the games that fits the bill is called Kind Words. (and in this instance we are using the word "game" in only the most generously interpretive sense). In the first iteration of Kind Words, gameplay was restricted to a single bedroom where a player could sit at a desk to share their thoughts, write letters, offer words of encouragement and send these short, uplifting missives out into the world.
In what's been a wholly unexpected development, Kind Words has become not only part of my morning routine, but also an integral part of my mental health regimen. Every morning, along with my coffee and a light workout, I will open Kind Words and play for around fifteen to twenty minutes. That's usually enough time to answer three requests from other players seeking support or affirmation, send out three uplifting messages of my own, and read three paper airplanes (Don't worry about this part. It makes sense in the game).
The soundtrack to Kind Words is super relaxing (lo fi chill beats), the pace is hypnotically slow, and the chance to get out of my own head and try to craft caring and supportive replies for others is, more often than not, exactly what I need. I like to think of it as a way to practice not being completely self-obsessed before I head out into the world.
Recently, Kind Words 2 was released. In this new version of the game the confines of the bedroom fall away, allowing players to go outside and explore a larger world. I'll admit it was little daunting at first, but once I got the hang of it, I was able to manage. There's quite a few new enhancements that make the game more interactive, but the one I found really fascinating is the ability to sit quietly on a bench outside and "listen" to other conversations.
That sounds creepy and voyeuristic, but the fact is the developers have this little world of earnest positivity locked down so tight that shenanigans are nearly non-existent. The wholesomeness is relentless.
And that brings me to the point of this post. The kids, it turns out, are simultaneously alright, and not very alright at all. Which is to say, there are a lot of people playing Kind Words who are clearly struggling in very real ways. Luckily those people are matched by a seemingly limitless number of people who are ready to offer encouragement, support and a small bit of connection.
In general, every chat starts with a "How are you?" prompt. From there, the players are able to share their concerns and replies in short, anonymous messages. I grabbed a few screenshots of the conversations I listened to this morning to offer at least a small sample of how folks are doing.
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