Death, Games and Play: A Metaphorical-Relational Model
This paper argues that the metaphorical entanglement between games and death offers a relational framework for understanding dying as a dynamic system, suggesting that leveraging this connection can overcome current limitations in both palliative care and game design by reimagining play as a vital practice of care.
Original paper licensed under CC BY 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). This is an AI-generated explanation of the paper below. It is not written or endorsed by the authors. For technical accuracy, refer to the original paper. Read full disclaimer
We often speak of life as a journey or a story, but when we face the end, those familiar narratives can sometimes feel too rigid to hold the complexity of what is happening. In the fields of medicine and the humanities, scholars have long tried to find better ways to talk about dying, moving beyond simple medical facts to understand the human experience. A key tool in this effort is the metaphor: a way of describing something difficult by comparing it to something else we already understand. For centuries, people have used images from sports, gambling, and competition to describe death, such as saying someone "threw in the towel" or "ran out of aces." These phrases shape how we think about the end of life, often framing it as a battle to be won or lost. However, there is another world of human activity where rules, chance, and outcomes are constantly negotiated: the world of games. While games are often seen as trivial compared to the gravity of death, researchers are beginning to see a deep connection between the two, suggesting that the way we play might actually help us understand how we die.
In a new study, researchers Laura Davies and Emma Reay explore this unexpected link between death, games, and play. They argue that games do more than just entertain; they make the hidden rules of life and death visible. When we play a game, we enter a space where the consequences of our actions are clear, where we can try again after a mistake, and where we learn to navigate systems of chance and choice. The authors suggest that by looking at how games handle the concept of death, we can gain new insights into how we care for people who are dying. They propose that the relationship between these two ideas is not just a coincidence of language, but a fundamental entanglement that, if understood correctly, could change how we approach end-of-life care.
The researchers begin by examining how we currently talk about death. They note that many common phrases treat dying as a competition. We speak of "fighting" an illness or "beating" cancer, which implies that death is an enemy to be defeated. If a person dies, the logic of these metaphors suggests they failed to fight hard enough or were dealt a bad hand. This way of thinking can be harmful. It places the entire burden of survival on the individual and frames death as a personal failure rather than a natural part of life. The authors point out that this mindset has seeped into modern medicine, where death is increasingly viewed as a problem to be solved or a mistake in the system, rather than an inevitable stage of existence. This perspective can make it difficult for patients and their families to find peace, as they are constantly measuring their progress against a standard of survival that may no longer be possible.
To offer a different way of thinking, the authors turn to the mechanics of games. In many video games and board games, death is a standard part of the experience. It is often a "fail state," a signal that the player has made a wrong move or run out of resources. However, unlike in real life, this failure is rarely the end of the story. In a game, a character can die and then start again, allowing the player to learn from the mistake and try a different approach. This cycle of trial and error is not about giving up; it is about learning. The researchers suggest that this "learning through failure" is a powerful metaphor for the dying process. Instead of viewing the end of life as a final defeat, we might see it as a period of adjustment and growth, where the goal shifts from winning to understanding. By engaging with the rules of a game, players learn to accept uncertainty and navigate changing circumstances. The authors argue that we can apply this same mindset to real-life dying, helping people find a sense of agency and meaning even when they cannot change the outcome.
The study also introduces a new way to think about the role of those who care for the dying. The authors propose imagining a caregiver not just as a doctor or a nurse, but as a "game master." In a role-playing game, the game master does not control every move the players make, nor do they write the story for them. Instead, they set the scene, explain the rules, and help the players navigate the world they are in. They hold the structure of the game together while allowing the players to make their own choices. Similarly, a caregiver can help a dying person navigate the complex and often frightening rules of their final days. They can explain what is happening, offer support, and create a safe space for the person to make decisions, without trying to force a specific outcome. This approach respects the autonomy of the dying person, allowing them to remain active participants in their own lives until the very end. It shifts the focus from trying to fix the unfixable to helping someone live well within the limits of their situation.
The researchers are careful to note that they are not suggesting we should literally treat death like a game or pretend that dying is fun. They are not arguing that we can "win" against death or that we can simply restart the process if things go wrong. The distinction between the real world and a game is absolute; in reality, death is final and cannot be undone. Instead, they are suggesting that the logic of games offers a useful tool for thinking. Games provide a safe space to practice dealing with loss, uncertainty, and the limits of control. They show us that it is possible to find meaning and connection even when the outcome is not what we hoped for. By using the language and structures of play, we can create new ways to talk about death that are less about fear and failure and more about relationship and acceptance.
Ultimately, this work suggests that play is a valuable form of care. It is not about escaping reality, but about engaging with it in a way that allows for flexibility and creativity. When we play, we learn to work with others, to adapt to changing rules, and to find joy in the process rather than just the result. The authors believe that bringing this spirit of play into the conversation about dying can help us build better relationships between patients, families, and caregivers. It encourages us to see the end of life not as a solitary struggle against a failing body, but as a shared human experience where connection and meaning can still be found. By recognizing the deep ties between how we play and how we die, we open up new possibilities for how we support each other through the most difficult moments of life.
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