stress going back into the darkest dungeon

In the hamlet, you are the omniscient master of the land, deciding who to hire, who to send on adventures, and which institutions to upgrade.

The violence of your ancestor’s grand estate, overrun with monsters and turned into a pit of terror and malice, crashes full-on into the psyche of your mercenaries, leaving them ruined, shaking, hollowed-out shells of themselves. The quips are limited to vicious cursing, gleeful celebrations of cruelty after a precision strike, and the occasional surprised exclamation that something good has happened for once. There are no doe-eyed youths fighting for justice to be found, only grizzled veterans, zealots, and criminals who share a lust for coin. Violence is neatly compartmentalized in one area, and the personality and sanity of the protagonists are kept safely quarantined away in another, never to meet. Nathan Drake, with his ability to break a man’s neck one minute and make a lighthearted quip the next, is the poster child for video game psychopathy.

RPGs see parties of cheery young adventurers slaughter their way through entire countrysides worth of kobolds and giant rats for the sake of justice and good.

Most games gloss right over the psychological effects of combat and stress.

Stress going back into the darkest dungeon