Mega Man Helped Me With the Death of My Grandfather
How a video game character pulled me from the depths of grief
Let me tell you the story of how a video game character helped me cope with the death of my grandfather. The character in question is Mega Man, Capcom’s iconic blue mascot. The connection with my grandfather is quite literal: I first saw Mega Man at his house. I was around five years old at the time. One of my cousins was playing a vivid, colorful game on Super Nintendo. When I asked him what he was playing, he replied: “Mega Man 8 wey.” Wey, in case you’re unfamiliar with the term, is a synonym for “dude” in Mexican culture.
I had certainly played other games prior to seeing Mega Man 8. I loved playing Mario, for example. But there was always some kind of disconnect for me at the age of five; I just wasn’t terribly interested in the characters or universe. But Mega Man astonished me. I asked my cousin who this little blue guy was. He told me Mega Man was a fighting robot that wants to save the world — and then he showed me Mega Man running with a ball as if he was playing soccer, and kicking it around as a weapon.
My jaw dropped. Mega Man looked like a boy — like me, or at least, who I wanted to be. He was a super hero robot that defeated his enemies while playing soccer. I fell in love.
But love can be fleeting — you can move on. And that’s what I did, at least for a few years, especially because my cousin upgraded his Super Nintendo for a PlayStation with Mega Man X5. This gave me a new opportunity to discover a new, edgier version of Mega Man. Now he had a badass companion called Zero, and the game featured gorgeous anime cutscenes. I fell in love again. To an extent, I felt that Mega Man was growing up with me.
Mind you, I was too young to ever pass these games myself. But I still had tons of fun — despite the fact that my cousin didn’t let me play as much as I wanted. I still remember an incredibly difficult boss that killed you with one touch. My cousin left the boss with one energy bar remaining; it would have been possible for me to swoop in and take him out with a single shot. But I panicked, and the boss killed me. My cousin was so upset that he stopped talking to me for the rest of the night. But I still loved playing, even if it was only for a few seconds.
It’ll come as no surprise then that when I finally purchased a PlayStation 2, one of the first games I bought was Mega Man X5. Then, in 2005, Capcom released an anniversary collection of the original games. Since I’d never actually completed any of the games when I was younger, I picked up this collection with the goal of beating every single game in the set. And I did it; well, except for a couple that were incredibly difficult. I might have even smashed the controller back then out of frustration.
I actually gave a copy of this collection to my cousin. It brought a smile to his face, as he fondly remembered us partnering up to play the game on his old consoles.
In 2008, Mega Man 9 came out on the PlayStation 3. I bought it on day one. At this stage I was fifteen years old. A few years after the game came out, my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. The doctor said he had six months to a year to live — and he was right. I took care of my grandfather, and although it was a difficult time, I look back fondly on the experience because I got to know him in ways that I’d never imagined. During that time, his impact on my life was even greater than it had been before.
I remember sitting by his death bed, too consumed by grief to function. In times of crisis, we tend to look to the things that give us comfort; the familiar, the safe. For me, that was Mega Man. I remember playing Mega Man 2 on the PlayStation Vita — it wasn’t just a game. It was me visiting an old friend, someone I’d felt a connection with ever since I was five years old. This little blue super hero didn’t just take down enemy robots. He was now my hero, helping me deal with my despair. Progressing through the game became analogous to progressing through the grief itself. It may sound silly, but it felt like we were both going through challenges that were incredibly difficult…and we’d beat them together. My grandfather passed away later that day.
There is a deep association now between Mega Man 2 and my grandfather. Far from being a sad or depressing link, Mega Man 2 reminds me of better times — of my grandfather laughing and having a good time. I remember him as he truly was: a Mega Man.
