resident evil requiem, the latest in capcom‘s long-running action-horror series, launched on february 27. pokémon pokopia, a dragon quest builders-flavored spin-off of the world’s foremost monster catching franchise, arrived nine days later. i’ve been playing them both — to the detriment of my wallet — and it’s funny how much more stressful the cozy, city-building game has been compared to the one where zombies ambush you with chainsaws.

like 4.4% of the world population, i’m anxious enough for it to be considered a disorder. i won’t get into the gory details here, but it’s rough. and it’s only gotten worse, believe it or not, since losing my last stable job several years ago. i live every day worried about some terrible event waiting for me and my loved ones just over the horizon, as well as coping with the variety of mental and physical side effects that come with this level of constant uneasiness.

video games, by and large, don’t stress me out, but i also tend to avoid games like pokémon pokopia. i like smaller, self-contained experiences rather than the sprawling adventure pokopia provides, and i think that’s where a lot of this weird anxiety stems. there’s just so much to do, i constantly feel like i’m doing the wrong thing. my towns are a mess, pokémon habitats are scattered and disjointed rather than arranged into neat neighborhoods, and my storage situation is an absolute nightmare. everybody seems happy, but i can’t help but feel i could be doing more, which is an insane way to think about a children’s toy i’m free to stop playing at any time.

it’s easy to blame the glut of pokémon pokopia content online, much of which focuses on how to play the game as efficiently as possible. seeing the incredible societies other, more dedicated players have been able to create in such a short time is enough to make anyone feel inadequate. i want my pokémon to have the best! but that’s an easy out. it’s just so… big. when you can do anything, where are you supposed to start?

every time i boot up pokopia, my mind races with possibilities for major terraforming and urban renewal projects until i eventually settle into my usual routine: checking for new pokémon, gathering materials, and flying around looking for treasures before calling it a day. i’m having fun. why else would i keep going back otherwise? there’s just always an underlying sense of panic to my time with pokopia that doesn’t exist while i’m playing resident evil requiem, which i want to reiterate is full of monstrosities against whom failure means being subjected to horrible cutscenes of unspeakable violence rather than cute little pokémon who dance and play and sing and love you no matter what you do. i think a lot of this has to do with requiem‘s rigid structure compared to the free-for-all of pokopia.

a lot of my real-life anxiety with regards to personal interaction stems from feeling like i’m always saying the wrong thing. and it goes beyond being considerate or empathetic or even tailoring my thoughts for certain audiences. i’m afraid of the reaction i’ll get should i choose the wrong option in the infinite dialogue tree of life, if you’ll excuse me for clumsily falling back on video game tropes because i don’t know how else to describe it.

in an open-ended game like pokémon pokopia, the responsibility is on you to make your own fun. somehow, that’s much more terrifying than anything resident evil requiem could throw at me.