That Dragon Cancer is an game about the death of a child. It is the real life experience of game designer Ryan Green and his wife Amy’s loss of their young son Joel to brain cancer. It is an empathy game - designed for players to understand their anguish, despair and hope. It challenges what many in the games industry hold as a central tenant: that all games, at the core, must be fun. That Dragon Cancer is very, very sad. I would caution anyone who has lost a child - or supported someone who has - to be prepared for a very intense and exhausting experience. It stuck with me for hours after I completed it. A week later I am still thinking about it.
The game is unique on a number of levels. It is unusual for a designer to create a game about their own personal tragedy while is is still evolving. The Greens also documented their lives during the design process and Joel's treatment for a film which became Thank You for Playing. It completes the player experience. The Green family have strong faith so not surprisingly the game and film have a religious perspective. Ryan discloses in the documentary that one of his main purposes in creating the game was to design a moment when the player must confront their own belief system - an ambitious challenge. I am not a religious person, and I have to admit that moment was lost on me; however the game was still very powerful.
My awareness of the raw authenticity coupled with the family’s courage to attempt such a project under such circumstances increased my engagement and investment in the game. This is a good example of the unintended nature of game dynamics. Green must have known that some people would question and criticize his motives and judgment which makes his bravery all that more impressive and both the game and film more compelling.
My awareness of the raw authenticity coupled with the family’s courage to attempt such a project under such circumstances increased my engagement and investment in the game. This is a good example of the unintended nature of game dynamics. Green must have known that some people would question and criticize his motives and judgment which makes his bravery all that more impressive and both the game and film more compelling.
The visual imagery of the game range between ethereal bleached light and harmonious colour combinations to the harsh, dark and jagged forms representing the cancer. The soundtrack is light piano and cello music punctuated by voice-overs predominantly from Ryan and Amy which are also displayed as overlaying cursive text. This reinforces the children's book aesthetic.
Joel’s actual verbalization and giggles can also be heard in most scenes. The voices of their other two boys in the family asking questions about Joel’s condition provide information and context for the player. The film depicts the difficulty that the brothers had speaking about Joel’s inevitable death in a script. This is one of the questionable moments that feels wrong: where I felt how complicated this project must have been for all involved. Even the programmer also speaks about his anguish skipping over Ryan’s voice track in the editing process.
Players move progress through the game by exploring each scene and clicking on the prompts that emerge. Sometimes they are shoes to indicate walking; other times they are bird feet which are coupled with the sound of wings in flight. In order to advance through the scenes, players must visit all of the prompts. In the process, I found myself getting stuck in a hospital room or a lighthouse island because I had missed one, which forced me to endure some uncomfortable moments. For example, in one scene Joel is crying in pain and Ryan is unable to console him. I knew that somehow I could provide the relief to give Joel by solving the puzzle. but by design, it was not clear. All the while, Ryan is in tears trying to comfort Joel while pleading with God for his child not to suffer. This dynamic if effective for this situation but in other scenes that were less intense, I found myself becoming frustrated that I could not advance and focusing on solving the puzzle rather than feeling the intended emotion.
That Dragon Cancer maintains its surreal, sensory-rich quality throughout the game. The character’s faces are featureless tonal planes. I assume that the intention here is to allow the player to project themselves or people from their own lives into those faces. I did this without thinking about it for most of the game; however when I got stuck, the figures came across as puppet-like. In fact, my only problem with the game was when the emotions that it so effectively elicited could not be maintained when I was struggling with the game mechanics. In the film, Amy does a great job explaining how the game format does not rush the player out of a scene. This is true provided they choose to stay there rather than being stuck, which is why I missed Ryan's pivotal challenge-of-belief moment at the end of the game. Interruptions to these moments could be minimized by some mechanic that provides a hint to the player, keeping them in a reflective state of mind.
The game and the film complement each other beautifully. Both media create empathy but in different ways. The game allows players to pace themselves and consider the loss of a child from various perspectives. The film provides meta-level depiction of this unique circumstance. I completed the game first, then watched the film. I realize that I created my own version of the Green’s lives in my head. The movie provided a ‘pay-off’ effect of actually seeing their faces. I felt more connected to them - and rewarded - when I could see their expressions. This effect could have be lost if I had seen the film first.
Take-Aways
Joel’s actual verbalization and giggles can also be heard in most scenes. The voices of their other two boys in the family asking questions about Joel’s condition provide information and context for the player. The film depicts the difficulty that the brothers had speaking about Joel’s inevitable death in a script. This is one of the questionable moments that feels wrong: where I felt how complicated this project must have been for all involved. Even the programmer also speaks about his anguish skipping over Ryan’s voice track in the editing process.
Players move progress through the game by exploring each scene and clicking on the prompts that emerge. Sometimes they are shoes to indicate walking; other times they are bird feet which are coupled with the sound of wings in flight. In order to advance through the scenes, players must visit all of the prompts. In the process, I found myself getting stuck in a hospital room or a lighthouse island because I had missed one, which forced me to endure some uncomfortable moments. For example, in one scene Joel is crying in pain and Ryan is unable to console him. I knew that somehow I could provide the relief to give Joel by solving the puzzle. but by design, it was not clear. All the while, Ryan is in tears trying to comfort Joel while pleading with God for his child not to suffer. This dynamic if effective for this situation but in other scenes that were less intense, I found myself becoming frustrated that I could not advance and focusing on solving the puzzle rather than feeling the intended emotion.
That Dragon Cancer maintains its surreal, sensory-rich quality throughout the game. The character’s faces are featureless tonal planes. I assume that the intention here is to allow the player to project themselves or people from their own lives into those faces. I did this without thinking about it for most of the game; however when I got stuck, the figures came across as puppet-like. In fact, my only problem with the game was when the emotions that it so effectively elicited could not be maintained when I was struggling with the game mechanics. In the film, Amy does a great job explaining how the game format does not rush the player out of a scene. This is true provided they choose to stay there rather than being stuck, which is why I missed Ryan's pivotal challenge-of-belief moment at the end of the game. Interruptions to these moments could be minimized by some mechanic that provides a hint to the player, keeping them in a reflective state of mind.
The game and the film complement each other beautifully. Both media create empathy but in different ways. The game allows players to pace themselves and consider the loss of a child from various perspectives. The film provides meta-level depiction of this unique circumstance. I completed the game first, then watched the film. I realize that I created my own version of the Green’s lives in my head. The movie provided a ‘pay-off’ effect of actually seeing their faces. I felt more connected to them - and rewarded - when I could see their expressions. This effect could have be lost if I had seen the film first.
Take-Aways
- sound and imagery are key to eliciting empathic emotions
- prompts that are specific to moment depicted contribute to the flow of a game emotions are heightened
- metaphors intensify emotions when player can remain in a reflective moment
- create mechanics to limit interruptions to important emotional points
- companion media like films or websites can extend learning