Remember 2020? Turns Out 2025's Games Did Too, And They Got Bloody Deep.

AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·

Remember 2020? Turns Out 2025's Games Did Too, And They Got Bloody Deep.

In 2025, games like *Clair Obscur*, *Avowed*, and *Keeper* subtly yet profoundly grappled with the lingering impacts of the 2020 pandemic, weaving themes of grief, societal exploitation, and the quiet resilience of life into their fantastical narratives.

Right then, gather 'round, mates. I've been doing a bit of digital spelunking, sifting through the timelines, and stumbled across something rather intriguing. You know that feeling when you've finally processed something traumatic from years ago, and suddenly, it's popping up in the most unexpected places? Like finding a pixelated ghost in your new favourite RPG?

Well, apparently, that's precisely what happened in the gaming world back in 2025. According to some rather clever observations I've unearthed – originally penned by Giovanni Colantonio over at Polygon – the games hitting our screens that year were riddled with the lingering echoes of the 2020 global pandemic. Five years on, you'd reckon we'd all be well over it, right? But the invisible tendrils of that lockdown era, the isolation, the uncertainty, the mass grief… they finally seeped into our beloved digital escapisms.

It makes perfect sense when you think about it. Game development cycles are longer than a wizard's beard, aren't they? So, while we were all cooped up in 2020, probably stress-eating crisps and binging Tiger King, the brilliant minds behind our future adventures were also living through it. And, surprise, surprise, that lived experience, those anxieties, those quiet moments of contemplation – they eventually manifested in the fantastical worlds we were exploring in 2025.

Take *Clair Obscur: Expedition 33*, for instance. This one sounds like it ripped a page right out of a collective nightmare. It's not about a virus, no, but the pandemic parallels are so clear they practically glow in the dark. The story drops you on Lumière, an island where a mysterious 'Paintress' causes a glowing number in the sky to tick down. When your age matches the number, poof! You're gone, dissolved into a cloud of blood-red petals. Bloody hell, talk about an instant classic opening – a sea of happy people, then gone in a flash.

Colantonio points out how *Clair Obscur* doesn't shy away from the long-term pain of this 'Gommage' event. We're talking PTSD, constant anxiety as people realise they're next, and the daunting task of fighting back while still grieving. It really makes you think about those darkest moments of 2020, doesn't it? The race for a cure, the rising death tolls, the sacrifices made, the sheer collective effort. This game, launching in a world perhaps a bit too 'over it,' was a stark reminder of *why* we fought, *why* we shielded each other. It’s a testament to the idea that the luxury of being 'over it' is built on the backs of a powerful, collective battle. Fair dinkum, that’s a poignant bit of magic right there.

Then there’s *Avowed*, one of Obsidian's two big RPGs that year. Now, Obsidian usually crafts worlds so rich you could get lost in them for years, and 2025 was no exception. This time, their fictional Eora realm, specifically the Living Lands, is struck by a disease called the Dreamscourge. It corrupts living things, turning them into fungal monsters. Sound familiar? The game explores those societal dynamics we all lived through: some isolating, some downplaying it, nobody quite agreeing on the threat.

But here’s where *Avowed* gets clever and, frankly, a bit unsettling. Amidst this chaos, a powerful political group, the Steel Garrote, led by Inquisitor Lödwyn, muscles in. They’re not there to help, mate; they’re smelling blood in the water. They're an authoritarian regime, preying on a weakened society, trying to impose fascist rule under the guise of 'order.' Your fight isn't just against the monsters; it's against those who seek to capitalise on a crisis for political gain.

It’s a chilling parallel, isn't it? As Colantonio eloquently puts it, we've seen this play out in our own world, with political institutions trying to spin collective trauma into power plays. From 9/11 to current public health debates, the pattern repeats. *Avowed*, for all its high fantasy, serves as a grounded reminder to keep your guard up. Never cede ground to authoritarianism in a moment of weakness. Always question the narrative, especially when it promises simple solutions to complex problems. A bit of healthy skepticism, even in Eora, goes a long way.

And then, for something a bit different, we have Double Fine’s *Keeper*. At first glance, this meditative little game about a sentient lighthouse traveling a quiet, colourful world with a bird companion might seem a million miles away from COVID. But project lead Lee Petty revealed to Polygon that the idea sparked during the social isolation years, when all he could do was go hiking, imagining a world devoid of people.

*Keeper* visualises that future with striking beauty. Nature has reclaimed the planet, animals rule, and inanimate objects have gained sentience. It’s a serene world, less about frantic puzzle-solving and more about soaking in the landscapes, listening to the world’s songs, finding your place. It brings me back to those eerie, quiet walks during lockdown when bustling city streets became ghost towns, filled only with birdsong. There was a strange, haunting calm to it, a reminder that life, in all its forms, always finds a way. It fostered a quiet hope that even if humans stumbled, the natural world would rebuild, and perhaps, so could we, creating something better.

What’s genuinely fascinating, and perhaps a touch optimistically chaotic, is that these games, for all their dark reflections on grief and exploitation, ultimately imagined a future worth saving. They held space for the pain, sure, and called out the power-hungry opportunists, but they also reminded us that giving up isn't an option. They nudge us, subtly, to stand by one another and fight for those who come after. Because even when reality feels like a spell gone rogue, there's always a chance to craft a better tomorrow.

Tags: Gaming Insights, Game Development, Pandemic Themes, RPG Analysis, Narrative Design

Original article: Polygon