Something that I’ve come to understand more and more throughout adulthood is my mental health and the complicated issues that come with it. I’m a mixed bag of diagnoses that through therapy, medication, and introspection I have managed to get a pretty good handle on over the years, although bad moments still happen. Now, along with all of the aids mentioned above, Aggro Crab’s Peak has become an unexpected panacea to the pesky demons that lurk inside my head.
I first started playing Peak because my friends and I are going through a co-op renaissance of sorts right now. If there’s a hot new co-op title available, we’ll log onto Discord en masse and see where our adventures take us. Of late, those adventures have driven us right up a giant, unrealistic monster of a mountain.
In This House, We Respect Co-Op Gaming
I should start by noting that as much as I love multiplayer and co-op games, I’m not great at them. I play Fortnite almost every day and I’m definitely the worst in my crew. I don’t think I’m necessarily dragging the team down – and the few times I do feel that, I quickly log out before my brain starts grinding gears to a halt so I properly feel bad about it.
I experience pretty much all of my emotions at full volume most of the time, especially guilt for inconveniencing people.
That’s easy with a game like Fortnite, where your teammates can quickly resurrect you with a Reboot Van or protect you from opposing teams. Besides, matches are around 20 minutes, which gives a viable exit strategy even if something does go sour. Oftentimes, my friends can tell when those moments are happening because I’ll go quiet on chat for the remainder of the match until we’re ready to go again or call it a night.
Climbing The Tallest Peak, Ready To Die
Peak is a different beast entirely, though. If you die, there are no Reboot Vans dotted around the map. Sure, you can be resurrected, but only after your surviving team members reach the end of the current biome you’re climbing. If you die in Alpine, you’re not coming back unless someone makes it out of the snow.
And if they do resurrect you, you’re still screwed because the next biome is a lava-riddled hellscape that wants to burn you alive. After that is yet another biome with equally horrific hazards. And if you quit before everyone’s game is over, so you’re basically screwing your team – out of storage space, out of an extra hand to pull them up, and leaving the crew without one more person that could potentially make it to the end of the biome to resurrect the others.
That’s a lot to put on someone who already feels bad about most things regardless. It’s made even more ridiculous by turning you into a ghost following your teammates after you die. So not only do you not make it, you then watch them successfully do what you couldn’t. In the moment it doesn’t feel very good.
Once the moment passes, though, I’m happy about it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy feeling like a burden to my friends, in a video game or otherwise. And when I let them down, it hits me hard – harder than dying in Fortnite or any number of other games makes me feel. And yet, I’m forced to move forward and carry on. The mountain doesn’t wait for my feelings to get better and my team needs me.
This is a game so deeply steeped in teamwork that I’m made to set my feelings aside – after a proper few minutes of being quiet and feeling dumb – and push on while still having so much fun. It makes me want to be better for myself and my team in the next biome. I may have died in the Tropics, but I’ll be the king of Mesa, just you watch.
I’m never the king of Mesa. I somehow got shot back and forth between two tornadoes last week until landing on a cactus. But I survived!
There’s just something reassuring about working as a team to slowly make your way up a mountain, attempting to keep each other safe and moving forward at every turn. And sure, sometimes you misjudge a jump or fall short of a ledge as you tumble to the ground and die, leaving a pile of bones next to your gear. But if you’re like me, that simply makes you want to do better.
It’s The Strategizing That Keeps Me Coming Back
I think what I like about Peak is that, at least among my friend groups, most people have a role. I have one friend who is always a couple jumps ahead of us, looking for the best route forward. Another who keeps a keen eye on the game’s achievements, which also unlock cosmetics. The third member of our crew is, I think, the voice of reason. Almost everything he says makes a lot of sense, and hopefully we have the wisdom to listen to him. (We probably don’t.)
Then there’s me; I like carrying stuff. Strap the backpack to my back and let’s go. And I know what you’re thinking: Shouldn’t the backpack be carried by someone who doesn’t die a bunch? And maybe you’re right, but let me have this. What keeps me coming back to Peak is I have a role on a team full of friends, climbing a virtual mountain. And slowly, little by little, I’m learning to be more patient with myself when I mess up. It’s a far cry from the chaos of Fortnite where, while there are strategies to have, it’s also a battle royale shooter.
Sometimes I need to let go of the chaos and embrace the danger and excitement of climbing a mountain with my buddies. At least, virtually. I have no interest in climbing a mountain in real life. That was the stuff 22-year-old Chris did. Now I climb in Peak, then have a cup of SleepytimeTea before bed. That’s the real gamer move.
