Life in Hades with My Oldest Daughter

In 2004 I was blessed with the first of my three children. In a way, we grew into the burgeoning new age of gaming together. I came of age in the 80s and 90s, wiling away my time first with an Atari 2600 Mom bought at a yard sale, and then moving onto the many classic Nintendo titles that still resonate with so many. By the time my daughter Phoenix was born, I was immersed in games that would have looked like Science Fiction to me at age 8 but were increasingly becoming commonplace in gaming culture. Diablo II and Morrowind were the best of the best to me at the time, and Phoenix would go on to enjoy the Elder Scrolls series just as much.

However, in 2020, Phoenix introduced me to a new game that had only just come out called Hades. I get visions of my dearly departed grandparents thinking of something nefarious, considering the name refers to the underworld, but I can’t imagine that even they would not marvel at such an achievement were they here to witness it.

Hades Won a Hugo Award, and for Good Reason

There are over 600,000 words of dialogue and descriptive prose in Hades, some of which rivals the best of the classic literature which I still routinely revisit. Edgar Allen Poe would be thrilled to see literary acrobatics that are undeniably the long-term manifestation of his own shadowed legacy springing to life in a vibrant, kaleidoscopic landscape of Greek mythology combined with modern morality which, yes, he might find questionable. But who knows, maybe Poe would appreciate that too? He wasn’t a rigid conformist and was known as much for his unsavory shenanigans as he was for his impeccable, unprecedented storytelling.

Phoenix will be eighteen in the coming year. She openly laments this passage to adulthood, and I can’t say I blame her. We all want to grow up for the sake of personal autonomy, but none of us want to grow old, especially when there is so much responsibility to shoulder on the trek out of the proverbial Plato’s cave of childhood to the waiting mystery of the grave—which we must hope is far enough away that we’ll accomplish the dreams we manufactured on the mystic cave walls.

But though I am myself not entirely sure about the direction of modern morality, I am nevertheless reassured that a game like Hades addresses issues that are relevant to my daughter. I won’t go into too much detail except to remark that her reaction to many of the in-game interactions is always one of sympathy for those who struggle to define themselves. That struggle is eternal, the human struggle, and I am glad to see it mirrored in a medium which is fast becoming the most prolific storytelling device in human history.

My Greatest Sympathy Lies with Hades

As a working-class joe and father of three who has been run through the ringer in countless, undefinable ways, I totally understand the point of view that Hades has come to adopt. He got the short end of the stick when it comes to the division of duties between his brothers and himself. He had to hide the love of his life from his extended family for fear of reprisal. He runs a vast underground network which includes all the personalities of every age since his own creation, which means conflict is inevitable.

No wonder he’s so unapologetically gruff and rigid. Like Jack Nicholson’s Colonel Jessup in A Few Good Men, Hades would be right in asserting that the vast majority of those under his command can’t handle the truth; but through the drama that plays out between his son Zagreus and himself, he learns that the truth that everyone can’t handle still needs to be handled differently. Methods and means must be adjusted to the changing times.

More than anything, this interplay between Zagreus and Hades opened a dialogue between Phoenix and myself that made me reflect on the way things have changed, and how I may have failed to change with them. It also helps me understand that no matter what changes I may watch this younger generation undergo, it’s not for me to decide how they inherit this world that I had a part in building.

Unlike Hades, I won’t live eternally to deal with it. Like Sisyphus, I may have become so inured to the task of getting by to get by, I had forgotten how to enjoy anything but my rock, my hill, my life. Yet, I hope that like the old crook, I can smile and give a helping hand to those who pass through my little part of the Underworld, wishing them well on their way.