Josh Miller – The Family Man

That Dragon, Cancer

I can’t imagine anything hits harder than the loss of a child. Nobody should ever have to experience that, and hopefully, I’ll never have to. Amy and Ryan Green did though. To help process those emotions and bring something positive out of a true negative, they brought That Dragon, Cancer to fruition. A game full of life, sadness, faith, frustrations, and most importantly, love. There is no game, and possibly any media, that had me bawling like That Dragon, Cancer did by the time it wrapped up. Even now, thinking back to my experience playing it for the first time last year, I’m tearing up.

It’s easy to chalk the feelings up to being a fellow parent. And maybe that’s partially true. Having basic empathy though takes you a long way. If you have that, That Dragon, Cancer will hit hard. Whether it the tones of a child they recorded before his passing, the actual sympathy cards received by those who also went through a loss, real voicemails left, or even the intimate conversations of two parents struggling to make sense of their emotions; That Dragon, Cancer gives players plenty of reasons to feel included in this horrible event. Even knowing the outcome, which I did, doesn’t soften the emotional blows that come throughout those couple of hours playing the game.

As I’m typing this up, I realize that no amount of words can adequately describe how I feel. Jason Tanz over at Wired did a great job back in 2016, but I’m sure he feels the same way. There’s a documentary about this game called Thank You for Playing that I don’t know if I can sit through without shedding a tear. At the very least, if you want a quick emotional moment from Ryan Green, you could watch his acceptance speech at the 2016 Game Awards. Whatever your poison, this game is pure emotion. From how it was created, to how it was received. It is for all of these reasons and more that That Dragon, Cancer is the game to make me an emotional wreck.