At the beginning of 2020, I was determined to make this my year. After a pretty rocky 2019 spent in-and-out of a hospital as the primary caretaker for my brother who was battling Stage 4 cancer, an emotional falling out with my best friends that left me feeling more alone than ever, and a brutal eight-month-long depressive episode that consumed my mind and body for the better part of the year, I was finally ready to take charge of my future with my head held high.
And for three months, I did. In January, I got a full-time job at a casting office in New York City and spent my days meeting high-profile screen and stage actors on the daily. I spent my nights seeing Broadway shows and going out to dinner in the city with my new and amazing friends. With the money from my new job, I could finally pursue my dreams of becoming a voice actor and started going to acting classes every night after work. I even had plans in place to record my first professional voiceover demo in April.
Then, on March 11, 2020, everything changed.
“I used to have bad feeling / premonition of falling short,”
My office suddenly closed because of the pandemic and I lost my job. Broadway shut down indefinitely. My new friends, many of whom were only staying in New York City for the semester, all moved back home to different states, with some even flying back to their home countries. The recording studio I was supposed to record my voiceover demo at shut down with no definitive reopening date in sight.
Without warning, I found myself starting to fall back into the deep pool of depression I had spent eight long and difficult months in. I was angry. I was frustrated. I felt completely out of control of my life and the direction it was heading in. Again. I spent the latter half of March shifting between feeling so hopeless and sad, to being so overwhelmed with paranoia and helplessness that I was numb and apathetic to everything.
And then, right when I was feeling so lost, a little game called Persona 5 Royal came out.
“I believe we can fly up in the sky,”
I was more than familiar with Persona 5.
Only a year ago, I decided to try the game out on a whim in the beginning months of my brother’s cancer treatment and the worst part of my depressive episode. Put simply, the game saved my life. It introduced me to Futaba Sakura, a character who taught me how to love myself after months of not, and more characters who helped fill the void my ex-friends had left in my heart.
The one silver lining to the pandemic was that I suddenly had all the time in the world to dedicate to the new and enhanced version of my favorite JRPG. Though I found it a bit ironic that I was going into Royal in a similar mental state to when I discovered its parent game, I hoped the story would have a similar effect on me. I hoped that it would comfort me during a time when I so desperately needed something to hold onto and believe in.
And once again, it did.
“No more tears shall drop from your cheeks anymore,”
With my mental health deteriorating to the point where I felt so apathetic to everything going on around me, I felt like my hopes and dreams were impossible and completely out of sight during the pandemic. Any motivation I had for chasing my aspirations was gone, replaced with nothing but numbness. I began to gaslight myself, diminishing my paralyzing sadness and ignoring my emotions, saying things like “I know there are others who have it worse than I do” over and over again.
“Believe in me, that you don’t need to suffer from anything,”
But by playing Royal, I was able to watch characters (characters who already meant so much to me) talk openly about their own struggles. Obviously, Persona 5 had always been a game about mental health - but in Royal, that motif was prominently brought to the surface in an open and unapologetic way.
It was refreshing and cathartic to see everyone - from the seemingly-perfect student council president Makoto, to literal starving artist Yusuke, to even the rich and privileged heiress Haru - find the courage through Maruki’s counseling sessions to admit they were sad and needed help. He helped them realize that, no matter what their circumstances in life, they had every right to feel sad and upset about their personal demons. In addition to that, he assured them that no matter how hopeless, confused, or frustrated they felt, they had every right to pursue their dreams and own happiness.
Even if they were fictional characters made from bits of code, watching them admit their struggles and talk about their goals with such conviction made me realize I could also do the same.
Inspired by watching my favorite characters get counseling, I started scheduling online sessions with my personal therapist again. Even though I was a bit ashamed to be (virtually) back in her office after only declaring a few months earlier that I was “completely better now!” I admitted to her how sad I had become since the beginning of the pandemic. We spoke about all the goodbyes I never had, the opportunities that were taken away from me, the fear I had for my loved ones. Just like Maruki, my therapist assured me I was allowed to be sad, to be emotional, and, most importantly, to forgive myself. She didn’t push me to pretend everything was better; but, like Maruki, she told me point blank, “You deserve to be happy.”
One important theme throughout Royal’s new third semester was the idea that, although trauma can be incredibly brutal and taxing on an individual’s mental and physical health, it has the potential to motivate people to find the strength they didn’t have before.
Towards the end of Royal’s True Ending, there’s a beautiful scene where all the Phantom Thieves reflect on all the hardships they’ve endured through over the past year and discuss how all the experiences, some more traumatic than others, had changed them. One by one, each of the Thieves begins to admit their newfound motivation to work towards each of their dreams, the same ones they had told Maruki about during their counseling sessions. At one point, Ryuji admits, “If it weren’t for going through [the trauma of the past year], I dunno if I would’ve felt this way now.”
As I watched all the Phantom Thieves announce their plans to pursue their passions in the last hour of the game, I felt emotional and inspired to do the same. Though finishing Royal in April made me sad that I had to say “bye” to my favorite characters once again, I ended the game with a newfound resolve and spirit to not let something like a global pandemic stop me from doing what I needed to make me happy.
“You can’t lose, with your colors flying high!”
Firstly, I knew I missed voice acting. And after being so inspired once again by the brilliant acting in Persona 5 Royal that made these characters feel so real, I was assured once again that this was what I wanted to do: I wanted to become a voice actor in animation and video games and voice characters who had the power to inspire people in the same way the characters of my favorite shows and games had motivated me.
So, I pooled my savings from the three months at my job and took a huge leap. After some time and research, I invested in a high-quality microphone and recording equipment. I turned my closet into a makeshift voiceover booth and reached out to my old voice acting coach, who helped me fine-tune my booth until it sounded like a professional studio. The quality was so good I was finally able to record my demo at the end of June, only about three months after I had initially planned to.
Recently, I received the fully mixed and edited mp3 of my demo - and it sounds amazing. Since then, I’ve had amazing opportunities to take online acting classes with talented voice actors and casting directors across the country, some of whom have worked on my favorite anime and video games (including a voice actor from Persona 5!). Additionally, I’ve had the chance to virtually met with a number of voiceover agents thanks to my demo, and am now more excited than ever about where my acting career is heading.
In addition, I threw myself into writing for TheGamer, specifically writing a ton of Persona 5 Royal-related articles. Writing about the game that had saved my mental health was cathartic, and helped me sort out all my lingering anxious feelings brought on by the pandemic. I often reflect on how incredible it feels that the game I’m constantly writing about for my job is the same one that pulled me out of my depressive episode. Even now, months later, I feel so lucky and grateful to have a career where my interests and passions directly line up with my work.
“You deserve to spend your days in happiness.”
On his last day at Shujin Academy, Dr. Maruki gives a brief speech to the student body. “Your existence in this world is an amazing miracle,” he tells the students with sincerity, “You deserve to spend your days in happiness.”
Much later, there’s another scene where Ryuji reminds the Thieves, “We’ve all gotta keep livin’ with our eyes focused on our dreams… Otherwise, Dr. Maruki’s gonna give us all kinds of shit.”
I’ll be honest - despite all the good things I can reflect upon, there have been many days, especially during this summer, where I’ve felt hopeless and helpless. But on those days, sometimes I find just taking a step back and reminding myself about everything the journeys each of the Phantom Thieves went through, the motivating words of Dr. Maruki, and the dreams I’m so excited to be working towards can make all the difference in getting my mental health back on track.
2020 may not have gone at all how I expected it to go. It’s still not going at all how I thought it would. But thanks to Persona 5 Royal, I’ve found (and am still finding!) the strength to make the best of a truly terrible, unprecedented situation and move forward and persevere towards my dreams.
