I am always on the lookout for media in general and games/anime that deal with psychology in general and mental health issues in particular. There’s much to write about, but for today I’ll be focusing on the Persona series.
A short summary for those who may not know what it is – in short, the Persona series is a spinoff from the mainline Shin Megami Tensei franchise of JRPGs that grew to be much more popular than its originating series. It generally deals with themes of growing up, explorations of the human psyche (exactly my jam!) and identity and meaning.
What I like about it is that it takes the well-worn “highschoolers with supernatural powers” trope and introduces it, no-holds barred, to real life situations – having access to a shadow dimension or being able to summon figures from myth and legend doesn’t mean that you might not have to deal with parental estrangement, social isolation, depression and/or trauma…all things that the series’ characters do at one point face.
While only the later entries really deal with mental illness, the series has a tradition of psychological exploration, as befits a franchise which in Latin means “mask” and takes many of its key themes and ideas from Jungian psychology. As my therapist used to say “we contain multitudes” – the human psyche is complex and often fragmented, and Persona is notable in its exploration of its facets in many shapes and forms.
(For a deeper dive – https://www.cbr.com/persona-franchise-real-life-psychology/)
As I will be discussing events from all the games here, unmarked spoilers will follow.
The series was still finding its identity and footing with Persona 1, and so the first installment in the series didn’t go too far in terms of in-depth exploration. There were some interesting moments, like meeting yourself in the last dungeon of the game, and of course the overarching plot having been created by one girl’s desire to live a normal life instead of being confined to a hospital bed.
Still, I can’t very well say that Persona 1 really did more than a cursory examination of wish-fulfillment, the maturation of identity and the search for meaning, though there is a memorable line for that one part – the final boss can ask you point blank “What do you live?” and you can reply “To find the answer” – which is pretty deep for a PlayStation era game.
(Or you could be a total putz and reply with “I don’t know.”)
I feel Persona 2 is really where the series starts to come into its own. It begins to touch on themes that a typical coming of age narrative might have, like Ginko’s cultural estrangement (she’s a foreigner in Japan and copes by adopting a third culture) and Eikichi’s issues about his appearance and relationship with his father. It’s also dark – probably the darkest of the mainline games, but for all the severity of its tone, never falls into despair.
It also doesn’t deal with mental illness specifically, but P2’s focus is more about other themes such as interpersonal relationships, regrets and the blurring between fantasy and reality. The series’ trademark strong characterization is out in full force, though, and so there are some pretty deep dives into the individual psyches of the characters’, examining their hopes, dreams and motivations.
Moments that stand out for me include Tatsuya’s confession scene (in which he can out himself as bisexual if you so choose) and Eikichi’s conception of his father as a huge boss monster – showing how our mind does indeed create the world in many ways. If we imagine someone as something, does it become that? That’s something that the series goes on to explore in other ways throughout its many installments.
Now for P3…except that I didn’t play it 🙂
Full disclosure here once again – I have not actually completed P3. For some reason I really couldn’t get into the game, and so I won’t be writing about it here because I don’t feel I should cover games I don’t know that well (and if I do, I do admit to not playing them!) I’ve learned a fair bit from the Megaten wiki, but I will be skipping the game in general.
So let’s move on to one of my favorite entries in the series – Persona 4.
This is where Persona goes full on into the Jungian archetypes of the shadow and ego repression. Each of the characters encounters issues while growing up that they seek resolution with, all very real – Yukiko feels caged by her place in her family’s house, while Naoto and Kanji struggle with gender expression and identity.
All these repressed emotions and unwanted parts of the self become the shadow – in P4’s case, it’s something both literal and figurative. Kanji is in denial because his self-image and ego can’t handle the fact that he both likes traditionally “feminine” pursuits such as needlework, but at the same time he’s a Badass Biker Dude. The other characters encounter similar “splits” in their psyche which must be met and healed.
One of the core themes of P4 is that when you completely and totally accept your shadow self, it then becomes a source of your power. Even visually, it’s shown that the monstrous Shadows of the characters transform into the strong and powerful archetype of myth and legend once the characters accept their repressed selves and integrate them into the entirety of their psyche. In fact, the game goes one step further – to unlock the final transformation of their Personas, another aspect of their psyche must be embraced and also integrated.
I find that this is one of the depictions of the psyche that the Persona series hits a home run with. Even in real life, people struggle with facets and aspects of their personality that they find are “bad” – shutting them away and avoiding facing them. Whether their real life shadows are cast by society, our parents or our disenfranchised selves, all of them must led into the light and accepted to effect real healing. Often in therapy I’ve experienced epiphanies that mirror the ones that the characters’ go through – when you are ready to accept the shadow as part of you, what is real comes through to be embraced, and what is false falls away.
Once again I feel this is where video games have great healing potential in being able to depict this is a narrative form, letting the audience relive their own difficulties and struggles differently. Art is powerful, and nowhere it is moreso than when something can show you how our dark sides (and we all have one) can indeed become a bridge to the light – if we would but let them.
While none of the P4 cast have full-blown mental disorders, the importance of actual shadow work in therapy and real life cannot be understated. True strength lies within fully accepting and understanding ourselves, warts and all – even the parts that we would like to disown or pretend that are not true.
If our psyche is split in this way, it can end up poorly for us, with repressed urges coming up in all sorts of ways, ranging from maladaptive coping mechanisms to acting out. It’s beyond the scope of this piece to address them all, but let me just say that this is where P4 really does hit the nail on the head regarding recovery and growth – the shadow must be addressed.
And if even in real life the results may not be as flashy as in a video game, there are nevertheless very true and tangible.
(https://videoda.me/confronting-shadows-finding-strength-in-persona-a8d2d41a85d8)
Persona 5 is the game that really put the series on the map in terms of popularity, and it’s easy to see why – it’s a carefully crafted piece that many (including myself) have called a masterpiece. And it does indeed deal with mental health issues in a way that few other games do.
P5 deals with many of the themes that the series has become known for, but this time the Personas are unleashed by quite literally ripping off the figurative “mask” from the characters’ faces. But for this piece I’d like to spotlight two characters who most definitely suffer from, face down and overcome mental health challenges.
Futaba’s story is as grim as they come – she is a lonely child who is dealing with agoraphobia, isolation and social anxiety, being unable to leave her room and coping by using the Internet. Essentially, she’s a preteen hikkokomori.
But the story shows how the main characters attempting to solve the mystery of her mother’s murder ends up with her having to confront her worst demons – and triumph over them. Persona doesn’t pull punches – her scenario deals with you entering her internal world, where she has created a narrative of herself that seems to enable her to deal with her struggles…emphasis on seems. By uncovering the truth of what happened, Futaba has to learn to face herself and the world once more.
This situation parallels many real life ones that I’ve seen. When reality is too cruel, it’s very tempting to resort to escapism (including video games!) and to alternate narratives and frames of reference that can disguise or obscure the truth…which is ultimately what will set us free, if we but let it. It was empowering to see Futaba and her friends uncover a mystery that ultimately resolved itself with her coming out into the world once more, albeit slowly and with some hesitation (which was in itself quite a realistic depiction of healing from social anxiety – it’s rarely an overnight affair)
What I appreciated about Futaba’s arc is that her recovery comes about by challenging the stories that she and other people have told themselves about her and her role in her mother’s death. How true are they, really? Who is she when is not defined by the singular tragedy of her life? Those are questions I myself asked myself in my road to healing, and though they might not be easy, they needed to be asked and answered.
Futaba’s eventual recovery does echo one of the series’ themes about dealing with oneself and life in general – that of acceptance as being key to moving on. Her mother is dead – no one can change that. But by accepting that head on, as well as the fact that there are friends and family who are there and care for her, she is able to take the first steps into the wide world – a world that is so much more than just the walls and corners of her small little room.
Besides Futaba, the story arcs of Kasumi and Maruki bear mention. The latter has all the symptoms of grief and PTSD (and is in fact treated for such in game) and the latter is an actual school counselor (with issues of his own)
In the case of Kasumi, it was refreshing seeing mental health issues being treated front and center with the candor that they deserve – self-esteem and the search for identity are things that most adolescents grapple with without having to add grief and bereavement into the mix. As part of her personal development and growth, these issues are confronted, faced and eventually overcome.
I’d like to take a moment to talk about how seeing healing being gamified is an interesting phenomena in and of itself. Readers of my other work will often know how I find the presence of agency and choice in games a unique hallmark of the medium – you get to decide! How cool is that!
Seeing healing and recovery translate into actual game elements (in Kasumi’s case, her social links levelling up) also impacts your gameplay experience, making your party stronger – much as healing has that effect in the real world. There’s a lot to be said for the “Hey, maybe I can do that too!” element for video games and healing. It bears mentioning that just like in Persona as in real life, social links are important for “levelling up” in more ways than one!
With Maruki, I think what the game highlighted was the saying “doctor, heal thyself” As the narrative progresses, it becomes clear that the doctor himself is the walking wounded – and although the Jungian archetype of the “wounded healer” is powerful and very much alive today, that necessitates that the therapist in question do their own shadow work first. My own therapists have their own therapists (for at least part of their careers) and I would consider it a pre-requisite for any self-respecting psychologist to be aware of this aspect of the craft.
I know I was not the only one that was so touched by this gem of a game, as these articles will confirm
I’m heartened to find that in my travels throughout the Net that there is more attention being paid to this field. Part of the reason I started writing was to shed more light on the intersection of gaming and mental health, and I believe the artform has many insights and ways that we can use to nurture and develop ourselves, in addition to more conventional psychotherapeutic methods.
Some say that the franchise was milked pretty hard after 5 due to its overwhelming popularity, and I must sadly agree – I mean, Joker is cool and all, but how many times do we want to see him and his crew? But I digress, and I don’t want to get too off topic here.
So I’d like to point out that whatever your opinion on its many spinoffs, I find two that are worth mentioning.
Persona Q2 also focuses on many of the same issues. However, because I have not actually played the game, I’ve only been able to glean certain facts about it from the wiki and Google searches. As far as I can see though, it also deals with self-identity and trauma, as well as the related factors that impact it – such as accepting reality (as harsh as it can be) as being a key factor in recovering and moving on.
P5’s direct sequel, Strikers, also deals with how social media can sometimes cause disconnection and isolation in today’s digital age. Akane prefers the safety and anonymity of her channel devoted to the Phantom Thieves where she can escape instead of having to confront the reality of her strained relationship with her father.
Another major plot element is how AI applications such as EMMA can make people overly dependent on them, another interesting parallel to real world issues. Research shows that that the use of social media to promote and foster long-term caring connections leads to healthier outcomes than using it to constantly post status updates or show off. Art imitates life once again!
I hope you’ve enjoyed another alternative perspective into a much-beloved JRPG series. Wherever the franchise goes from here, I have no doubt it will not shirk from the exploration of the human spirit and soul that it has become noted for. I for one hope for more productive and healing collaborations between the worlds of gaming and therapy.