Two months ago, my kids and I huddled around a cell phone watching the live stream of the Game Awards, one of the video game industry's biggest nights. They announced the nominees for the Game for Impact, an award that's given to a thought-provoking video game with a profound prosocial message or meaning. They opened the envelope and they read the title of our video game. An award ... for impact. It was almost funny, actually, because I always thought that winning an award like that would have this huge impact on my life, but I found that the opposite is true.
Prije 2 mjeseca, moja djeca i ja skupili smo se oko mobitela da bi gledali live prijenos Game Awards-a, jedne od najvećih noći za industriju video igrica. Objavili su sudionike nominirane za "Utjecajnu Igru," nagradu koja se dodjeljuje provokativnoj video igri s dubokom prosocijalnom porukom ili značenjem. Otvorili su omotnicu i pročitali naslov naše video igre. Nagrada... za utjecaj. Zapravo, bilo je skoro smiješno jer sam uvijek mislila da će osvajanje takve nagrade imati nekakav veliki utjecaj na moj život, ali istina je zapravo potpuno suprotna.
The big nights, the accomplishments -- they fade. But the hardest nights of my life have stuck with me, impacting who I am and what I do.
Velike noći, postignuća -- blijede. Ali najteže noći u mom životu su zapele samnom, utjecajući na ono tko sam ja i što radim.
In 2010, my third son, Joel, was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive brain tumor. And before that year was finished, doctors sat my husband and I down and let us know that his tumor had returned despite the most aggressive chemotherapy and radiation that they could offer him. On that terrible night, after learning that Joel had perhaps four months to live, I cuddled up with my two older sons in bed -- they were five and three at the time -- and I never really knew how much they understood, so I started telling them a bedtime story. I told them about this very brave knight named Joel and his adventure fighting a terrible dragon called cancer. Every night, I told them more of the story, but I never let the story end. I was just building up a context that they could understand and hoping that our prayers would be answered and I would never have to tell them that that knight, who had fought so bravely, was done fighting and could rest now, forever.
U 2010., mom trećem sinu, Joelu, dijagnosticiran je rijedak i agresivan tumor na mozgu. I prije kraja te godine, liječnici su sjeli samnom i mužem kako bi nam rekli da se tumor vratio usprkos najagresivnijoj kemoterapiji i radijaciji koje su nam mogli ponuditi. Te užasne noći, nakon saznanja da Joelu možda preostaje 4 mjeseca života, zagrlila sam svoja dva starija sina u krevetu -- tada su imali pet i tri godine -- i nikad zapravo nisam znala koliko oni razumiju, pa sam im počela pričati priču za laku noć. Pričala sam im o tom jako hrabrom vitezu Joelu i njegovoj avanturi u borbi protiv strašnog zmaja koji se zvao tumor. Svake noći, ispričala sam im novi dio priče ali nisam dozvoljavala priči da završi. Samo sam gradila kontekst koji bi oni mogli razumjeti nadajući se da će naše molitve biti uslišane i da im nikad neću morati reći da je vitez, koji se tako hrabro borio, bio gotov s borbom i sada se zauvijek odmara.
Fortunately, I never did have to finish that bedtime story. My children outgrew it. Joel responded better than anyone expected to palliative treatment, and so instead of months, we spent years learning how to love our dying child with all of our hearts. Learning to recognize that shameful feeling of holding back just a little love to try to spare ourselves just a little pain somewhere further down the road. We pushed past that self-preservation because Joel was worth loving even if that love could crush us. And that lesson of intense vulnerability has changed me ... more than any award ever could.
Na sreću, nikada nisam morala završiti priču za laku noć. Moja djeca su je prerasla. Joel je reagirao bolje nego što je itko očekivao na palijativni tretman, pa smo umjesto nekoliko mjeseci, proveli godine učeći kako voljeti naše umiruće dijete svim srcem. Učeći kako si priznati taj sramotni osjećaj držnja u rezervi samo malo ljubavi kako bi poštedili sebe samo malo boli negdje dalje na tom putu. Prešli smo preko tog samoodržanja jer je Joel zaslužio biti voljen iako bi nas ta ljubav mogla dokrajčiti. I ta lekcija o ranjivosti promijenila me... više nego što bi ijedna nagrada mogla.
We started living like Joel could live, and we began developing a video game called "That Dragon, Cancer." It was the story of Joel. It was the story of hope in the shadow of death. It was the story of faith and doubt, and the realization that a wrestle with doubt is a part of faith -- maybe the biggest part of it. It was a story that began as a miracle and ended as a memorial.
Počeli smo živjeti kako bi Joel mogao živjeti, i počeli smo razvijati video igricu nazvanu "Taj Zmaj, Tumor." Bila je to priča o Joelu. Bila je to priča o nadi u sjeni smrti. Bila je to priča o vjeri i sumnji, i saznanju da je borba sa sumnjom dio vjere -- možda njen najveći dio. Bila je to priča koja je počela kao čudo i završila kao spomen.
(Music)
(Glazba)
(Giggle)
(Kikotanje)
(Clapping)
(Pljeskanje)
(Music)
(Glazba)
(Video) Dad: Bouncing around, do you like that?
(Video) Tata: Skakanje naokolo, sviđa ti se to?
(Giggle)
(Kikotanje)
I love your giggle.
Volim tvoje kikotanje.
(Music)
(Glazba)
(Giggle)
(Kikotanje)
[A Journey of Hope In the Shadow of Death]
[Putovanje Nade u Sjeni Smrti)
[That Dragon, Cancer]
[Taj Zmaj, Tumor]
(Music)
(Glazba)
When you play "That Dragon, Cancer," you're transformed into a witness of Joel's life, exploring an emotional landscape, clicking to discover more of what we as a family felt and experienced. It feels a little bit like analyzing interactive poetry because every game mechanic is a metaphor, and so the more the player asks themselves what we as designers were trying to express and why, the richer the experience becomes.
Kada počnete igrati "Taj Zmaj, Tumor," transformirani ste u svjedoka Joelova života, koji istražuje emocionalan krajolik i klika kako bi otkrio što više onoga što smo mi kao obitelj iskusili. Pomalo podsjeća na analiziranje interaktivne poezije jer je svaki mehanizam metafora, pa tako, što se igrač više pita, što smo mi kao kreatori htjeli izraziti i zašto, to je njegovo iskustvo bogatije.
We took that vulnerability that Joel taught us, and we encoded the game with it. Players expect their video games to offer them branching narrative so that every decision that they make feels important and can change the outcome of the game. We subverted that principle of game design, collapsing the choices in on the player so that they discover for themselves that there is nothing that they can do that will change the outcome for Joel. And they feel that discovery as deeply and desperately as we felt it on nights when we held Joel in our arms praying for hours, stubbornly holding out hope for a grace that we could not create for ourselves.
Uzeli smo tu ranjivost kojoj nas je Joel naučio, i njome šifrirali igricu. Igrači očekuju od video igrica razgranate priče zato da bi se svaka odluka koju donose činila važnom i mogla promijeniti ishod igre. Srušili smo princip dizajna igrice, ostavljajući sve izbore igračima kako bi sami otkrili da ne mogu ništa učiniti što bi promijenilo Joelov ishod. I onda bi osjetili to saznanje jednako duboko i očajno kao i mi u onim noćima kada smo Joela satima držali u naručju i molili, tvrdoglavo se nadajući milosti koju nismo mogli sami sebi stvoriti.
We'd all prefer to win, but when you discover that you can't win, what do you value instead?
Svi smo htjeli pobijediti, ali kad otkriješ da ne možeš pobijediti, što drugo onda cijeniš?
I never planned to write video games, but these moments that really change our lives, they often come as the result of our hardship -- and not our glory. When we thought that Joel could live, I left the game designing to my husband. I chimed in here and there with a scene or two and some suggestions. But after the night that Joel died, the passion, the possibility of sharing Joel's life through our video game -- it was something that I couldn't resist. I started writing more, I sat in on our team's design meetings, I added more ideas and I helped direct scenes. And I discovered that creating a video game is telling a story, but with an entirely new vocabulary. All the same elements of imagination and symbolism are there, but they're just partnered with player agency and system responsiveness. It's challenging work. I have to think in a totally new way to do it, but I love it. And I wouldn't have known that without Joel.
Nikada nisam planirala da ću pisati video igre, ali ovi trenuci koji su zaista promijenili naše živote, najčešće dolaze kao rezultat naših muka -- ne naše slave. Kada smo mislili da bi Joel mogao živjeti, ostavila sam dizajniranje igrice svom mužu. Ja bih se uključila tu i tamo s pokojom scenom i ponekim prijedlozima. Ali nakon noći u kojoj je Joel umro, strast, mogućnost da podijelim Joelov život kroz našu video igru -- je bila nešto čemu se nisam mogla oduprijeti. Počela sam još više pisati, sjedila sam na sastancima za dizajn s našim timom. Dodala sam još ideja i pomogla pri režiranju scena. I otkrila sam da je stvaranje video igre kao pričanje priče, ali s potpuno novim rječnikom. Svi oni isti elementi mašte i simbolike su prisutni, ali su samo spojeni s djelovanjem igrača i odgovaranjem sistema. To je izazovan posao. Moram razmišljati na potpuno nov način za to, ali sviđa mi se to. I nebi to znala da nije bilo Joela.
Maybe you're a little surprised by our choice to share our story of terminal cancer through a video game. Perhaps you're even thinking like so many people before you: cancer is not a game. Well, tell that to any pediatric cancer parent that's ever taken an exam glove and blown it up into a balloon, or transformed a syringe into a rocket ship, or let their child ride their IV pole through the hospital halls like it was a race car. Because when you have children, everything is a game. And when your young child experiences something traumatic, you work even harder to make sure that their life feels like a game because children naturally explore their worlds through play. While cancer can steal many things from a family, it shouldn't steal play.
Možda ste malo iznenađeni našim izborom da podijelimo našu priču o terminalnom tumoru kroz video igru. Možda čak razmišljate kao mnogi ljudi prije vas: tumor nije igra. Pa, recite to bilo kojem roditelju djeteta s tumorom koji je nekad uzeo rukavice za pregled i napuhao ih u balon, ili transformirao špricu u raketu, ili pustio svoje dijete da provoza svoj stalak s infuzijom kroz bolnicu kao da je trkaći auto. Jer kada volite djecu, sve je igra. I kada vaše malo dijete prolazi kroz nešto traumatično, još više se trudite kako bi im njihovi životi još više izgledali kao igra jer je djeci prirodno da istražuju svijet kroz igru. I dok tumor može ukrasti mnogo toga od obitelji, nebi trebao moći ukrasti igru.
If you're listening to me and you're trying to imagine this family that revolves entirely around a dying child, and you can't imagine joy as part of that picture, then we were right to share our story with you, because that season of our life was hard. Unspeakably hard at times, but it was also pure hope, deep love and joy like I have never experienced since. Our video game was our attempt to share that world with people who hadn't experienced it before, because we never could imagine that world until it became ours.
Ako me slušate i pokušavate zamisliti obitelj koja se vrti u potpunosti oko umirućeg djeteta, i ne možete zamisliti sreću kao dio te slike, onda je bio dobar potez podijeliti našu priču s vama, jer taj dio našeg života bio je težak. Neopisivo težak ponekad, ali opet pun nade, duboke ljubavi, i radosti kakvu do tada nisam iskusila. Naša video igra je naš pokušaj da podijelimo taj svijet s ljudima koji to nikad prije nisu iskusili, jer ni mi ga nismo mogli zamisliti dok nije postao naš.
We made a video game that's hard to play. It will never be a blockbuster. People have to prepare themselves to invest emotionally in a story that they know will break their hearts. But when our hearts break, they heal a little differently. My broken heart has been healing with a new and a deeper compassion -- a desire to sit with people in their pain, to hear their stories and try to help tell them so that they know that they're seen.
Napravili smo video igru koju je teško igrati. Nikada neće biti blockbuster. Ljudi se moraju pripremiti na emocionalno ulaganje u priču za koju znaju da će im slomiti srca. Ali kada se naša srca slome, ona zacijele malo drugačija. Moje slomljeno srce zacjeljuje s novom i dubljom samilošću -- željom da sjednem s ljudima u njihovoj boli, kako bi čula njihove priče i pokušala im pomoći reći da znaju da su viđeni.
On the night when "That Dragon, Cancer" won the Game for Impact Award, we cheered, we smiled and we talked about Joel and the impact he had on our life -- on all of those hard and hopeful nights that we shared with him when he changed our hearts and taught us so much more about life and love and faith and purpose. That award will never mean as much to me as even a single photograph of my son, but it does represent all of the people who his life has impacted, people I'll never meet. They write me emails sometimes. They tell me that they miss Joel, even though they never met him. They describe the tears that they've shed for my son, and it makes my burden of grief just a little bit lighter knowing that it's shared with a 10-year-old watching a YouTube playthrough, or a doctor playing on his airplane with a smartphone, or a professor introducing Joel to her first-year philosophy students.
U noći kada je "Taj Zmaj, Tumor" osvojio nagradu za Utjecajnu Igru, razveselili smo se, osmjehnuli i razgovarali o Joelu i njegovom utjecaju na naše živote -- u svim onim teškim i noćima punim nade koje smo dijelili s njim kada je promijenio naša srca i naučio nas toliko toga o životu i ljubavi i vjeri i svrsi. Ta nagrada mi nikada neće značiti čak ni kao jedna fotografija moga sina, ali predstavlja sve ljude na koje je njegov život utjecao, ljude koje ja nikada neću upoznati. Ponekad mi šalju mailove. Kažu mi da im nedostaje Joel, iako ga nikada nisu upoznali. Opisuju mi suze koje su prolili za mog sina i to čini moj teret tuge barem mrvicu lakšim kada znam da to dijelim s desetogodišnjakom koji gleda igricu na YouTubeu, ili doktorom koji to igra u avionu na svom pametnom telefonu, ili profesorom koji predstavlja Joela svojim studentima filozofije na 1. godini.
We made a video game that's hard to play. But that feels just right to me, because the hardest moments of our lives change us more than any goal we could ever accomplish. Tragedy has shifted my heart more than any dream I could ever see come true.
Napravili smo video igru koju je teško igrati. Ali meni se to čini potpuno ispravnim, jer najteži trenuci u našim životima promijene nas više nego ijedan cilj koji bi ikada mogli ostvariti. Tragedija je preokrenula moje srce više nego ijedan san koji bi mi se ikada mogao ostvariti.
Thank you.
Hvala Vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)