I never expected a game to have an effect on me the way Firewatch did. Bioshock Infinite was an emotional experience, but it was at the revelation of what happened to another person’s life. Dragon Age Inquisition was a similar experience. Yet to play a game that seemed to parallel my life, well that was certainly new.

The mechanics of the opening sequence of Firewatch isn’t terribly exciting or groundbreaking, but the story that unfolded sucked me in right away. I felt a connection to Henry, yet it was open enough that I could place myself in Henry’s shoes. The story was nice and sweet, the decisions were relatively simple. Then, when I decided that Julia should take the job at Yale, and received the first report of things going wrong… That’s when the game intersected with my life.

Now I should mention that the person I had been dating for three years did not have Dementia. However the forgetful nature, and the resulting breakdown in the stairwell, were of a similarly common event between us. Many a times a simple thing such as setting down a pair of shoes the night before, only to be “lost” the following morning would result in a panic attack before needing to leave for work. Or perhaps forgetting that certain things were said the day before, resulting in mixed plans for the following day or week. And so it goes.

At this point, the game to me, was no longer about Henry. It was about me, and what I had been living through for the past three years with someone that I loved very much. When the next story portion came along, that Julia had to be sent home on permanent leave, I was certainly beside Henry. What brought me down, and caused me to cry at my desk, was the choice between sending Julia to a 24 hour care home, or be determined to stay with her and take care of her. The latter was something I was fully prepared, and had discussed with my girlfriend--that I would be there for her no matter what, and would absolutely be there with her when talking to a doctor. I loved her, and would have done anything (and did do quite a lot) for her [this past tense sucks].

When the game finally opened up, and you arrive at the base of the watch tower, I was there. I had been wanting to escape as Henry did, and now I was, in the game. Despite seeing the beginning be played through on GiantBomb, I still relished every detail inside the tower. I made my dialogue choices with Delilah. And I carried that damn boombox all the way back to the tower. I wasn’t just exploring the forest to complete the game mechanic at the time, I wanted to see what was there because I wanted to be there.

Throughout the dialogue with Delilah, I felt a sense of ease, as perhaps Henry did, that I found someone new to talk to. To take my mind off things, perhaps to think that I have found someone else to be with, or at least let my mind go there. When the finale of the game came along, well, to quote a coworker of mine: “The ending sucked!”. Yeah kid, it did. It does suck when someone you’ve grown attached to in one way or another leaves your life. For Henry and Delilah, it was a summer. For me and my girlfriend, it was three (almost four) years of our lives.

This game couldn’t have come at a better time for me. While I do have friends to look to for comfort, they’re not as available as video games are. The added touch of taking photos in the game, and then being able to order prints, just completed the package for me. A physical object of a time spent in a virtual world, helping me overcome real emotions, by playing a character trying to overcome his.