Since these games explore the same story from different angles, I’ve opted to discuss them together.
Please note that Weird Grief contains some adult (i.e. sexual) content, which I comment upon here, albeit only in the vaguest terms.
The Dead Account and Weird Grief, by Bez
These tell the story of people left behind by a person who died, and the ways in which they experience and cope with their grief.
They present a thesis and antithesis, which together paint a nuanced (or maybe I should say, multifaceted) picture of the whole ordeal.
There are certain things that need to be done when a person dies. People need to be informed: friends, relatives, government agencies, commercial entities. Phone calls need to be made, death certificates mailed, attorneys consulted, affidavits processed, funeral arrangements made, etc. All of this work adds to the emotional burden on those closest to the deceased, and unfortunately, the processes are often not designed to make it any easier on them.
I think The Dead Account evokes the worst of this, showing what happens when the needs of mourners come into conflict with the demands of bureaucratic hell. Spoiler alert: the latter stomps upon the former.
Basically, you’re a person whose new job is to close dead people’s accounts on some kind of furry social website. AI used to do this. Then some higher-up(s) decided, in their deep empathy for their fellow human beings, that this delicate task requires the warmth and discernment of a human moderator. They have thoughtfully codified the following steps for you to take in carrying out your job (actual spoiler alert):
- Snoop on the account’s PMs to determine whether it belongs to a dead person.
- Upon determining beyond all doubt that it belongs to a dead person, summon all of their surviving friends/lovers/relatives into a group chat.
- Waste their time by demanding that they all state their names and pronouns, despite already knowing these from having snooped on them two steps ago.
- Use your authority as a moderator to push every single one of them to individually repeat to you what you already know: that their friend/lover/relative is dead.
On the one hand, this process feels like a caricature of some of the inconvenient, emotionally-difficult hoops that people are forced to jump through (for other people’s sakes) after losing a loved one. On the other hand, I also have a sinking feeling that someone, somewhere, has instituted or will one day institute the same process in a real organization. That person, no doubt, did/will feel very proud of themself.
You can probably tell by now that I had a strong emotional reaction to this piece. I found it effective.
If The Dead Account is the thesis, then Weird Grief is the antithesis. The latter is about the actual warmth of friends and lovers acting to support one another.
Like the other game, I can’t go so far as to call it unrealistic, but it feels a bit exaggerated to me. As the group of four main fellows-in-grief interact with each other, they always seem to know when to give intimacy and when to give space. Their trust in each other is deep and abiding; they feel free to speak their thoughts openly no matter the subject. Their interactions build each other up at every turn. As a group, they have an astounding ability to respond to each others’ needs while also maintaining each others’ boundaries without anyone ever coming into conflict with another - even if you, as the player, choose the most contrarian options possible. And they ease their longing for the affection of their lost loved one by enjoying lots and lots of mildly kinky sex with each other.
I don’t doubt that a support network like this could exist, and I’m sure it has existed for some people at some points. But I don’t feel that it is at all an accurate representation of how most social circles adapt to a death, because everyone’s moves are too perfect. It feels more like an ideal that folks could strive toward.
Taken together, then, the two stories offer complementary takes on mourning: one offering bitter catharsis, the other offering some hope and comfort, both close enough to their respective extremes to provide a stark contrast between them.