When I was young lad in small-town Idaho, there was a period of time when I would invite all of my friends over each Friday night. We would play night games, board games and of course, video games. I had received a Nintendo Gamecube for my 16th birthday. The Gamecube is by far the greatest birthday gift I’ve ever received (my green Gameboy color with a copy of Pokemon Silver is a close second). The hours I spent with family and friends are cherished memories.

There were only two Gamecube games we ended up playing each Friday: Super Smash Bros. Melee, and Medal of Honor, the latter being the crowd favorite. Competition was fierce, and my brother and I spent a lot of time between Fridays to hone our skills. We quickly became very skilled Medal of Honor players. Very skilled. So skilled, in fact, that we had to be on separate teams. Sometimes we played everyone versus the McGee brothers, but no one stood a chance. There were soon complaints of the game not being “fun”, and I readily admit that us being able to practice all week gave us an unfair advantage. So we decided to handicap ourselves.

My brother and I started using the Welrod, a one shot one kill weapon with an extra long reload time. But that backfired on us (pun intended), because we rarely missed. We became so good at Medal of Honor, that our fingers seemed to move on their own. I would see an opposing player, spin, fire, and they were gone. It all happened before I could blink, almost like it was pure muscle memory. While the other players protested, my brother and I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. Single-handedly laying waste to the opposing team with the slowest gun in the game was an absolute blast! It never got old (for us). What we had tapped into, I later learned, was the joy of skill.

It feels good to be good at something. There is a unique sense of achievement in being able to do easily what was at first challenging. Obviously, this isn’t something that is unique to games, but for me it’s one of the many reasons I enjoy playing games. Becoming skilled enough at a game to tap into the joy of it takes a long time. I don’t play every game looking to become a god, but every once in a while, a game comes along with the perfect ingredients that makes me want to get good at it. In high school, that was Medal of Honor. Recently, I’ve found a new game.

In 2015, a 27-year-old Japanese developer named Ojiro Fumoto released his first game: Downwell. It’s a vertical platformer about a little person going down a procedurally generated well. Strapped to your feet are a pair of “Gunboots”, which work exactly as you’re imagining they would. They shoot bullets that aid you in fighting gravity and the myriad monsters that call the well home. It’s incredibly simple in concept, but tough as nails to play. From the very beginning, the retro graphics, the chip tune soundtrack, and the tight, intuitive touch controls had me hooked. While procedurally generated, the game has a definite beginning, middle, and end, complete with one hell of a boss fight.

It took me months to beat the game, and even then it was mostly thanks to RNG. But after beating it, I kept playing. I wanted to be able to descend the well as carelessly as I’d seen other people do it on Youtube. I wanted to develop skill! So I kept jumping down the well. On the bus, on the train, on the subway. I kept my gunboots on. Now, I’ve been playing for over a year, and I’m finally good enough to beat the game each time I play (on easy…hard mode is still really hard). Once again, I’ve tapped into the joy of skill, and it is so, so satisfying!

I think part of what makes me enjoy developing skill in Downwell, or any other game, is the higher your skill level, the more in control you are. I find this comforting. Control can be especially comforting when I feel like a lot of things in my life are completely out of my control. Work is unpredictable and stressful (I’m currently job hunting). School only adds to that (I’ve graduated now, though. Yay!). Then, there are my kids. (I just got back from a late night run to find some fever-reducing medicine for my oldest. Thankfully I made it to a clinic right as they were closing) Family is, as they say in Taiwan, a “sweet burden”. When I find myself stuck in the middle of a tempest of uncontrollable variables, it can be incredibly soothing to play a game and feel completely in control of my character. The game becomes the eye of the stress storm, a place where I can enter an incredibly peaceful state. This kind of zen moment is invaluable on a particularly stressful day.

So, yeah. I’ve played Downwell for a year and I’ll likely keep playing it for a long time. It went from a super challenging rogue-lite to a daily ritual that brings me greater balance. It’s like a visual vitamin. A powerful, playable pick-me-up. Developing a skill in anything can bring you comfort and joy. I just happen to like spelunking down digital wells.