Nearly Dead, but Tomorrow Comes
Turning 30 feels like the end—but it isn’t. Inspired by Expedition 33, I reflect on fear, purpose, and what it means to keep going.
On October 1st, 1995, I was born. In about five months, I’ll turn 30. Nearly Dead.
It’s funny to feel that way. Absurd, even. I don’t plan to keel over on my birthday, and I know there’s so much waiting for me beyond that day. And yet, turning 30 feels different than turning 20. There’s a weight to it. A sense of finality mixed with possibility. I'm certain that every decade after, the retrospective feels even more absurd.
This week, I played Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, and it hit me at it seems oddly well timed. The game centers on people who know the exact time they’ll die. Many choose to fight for survival anyway. The game moved me. As I approach a milestone that feels like an end, the game reminded me that fear doesn’t have to paralyze us. Sometimes, it can push us to reclaim agency over our lives.
Nearly Dead
I'm enjoying the uselessness of today, and readying my usefulness for tomorrow. - Gustave, Expedition 33
I have said many times that I want to start a podcast called "Nearly Dead™." As I reach the end of my life at 30, many others and I joke about this idea that life will simply cease. Of course, the idea is to be ironic. Ideally, the discussion would be a retrospective on the experiences we've had, what we're currently doing, and looking to the future.
There are so many people who have reinvented themselves well into their 30s and beyond. Stan Lee wrote his first comic when he was 39. Samuel L. Jackson was not in a film until he was 43. There are many more such stories we know about, and many more you will never see.
Recently, a poem was shared with me. You can read it here or below.
A Litany For Survival - By Audre Lorde
For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours;
For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.
And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.
Accompanying this poem came a question. 'What would you do if you weren't afraid?' I pose to you the same question. What's holding you back from doing what you want? Is it fear of the unknown?
Right now, while unemployed, there is a lot to be afraid of. I have thought about this question a lot since it was asked of me. My immediate response in the moment was that I was doing it (I was recording a podcast, though not the aforementioned one). But each day, I think about what I can do to push forward through that fear to achieve what I need to do and hopefully reach what I want to be doing eventually.
It is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive.
I think I hold onto that fear most days, and that's where this idea of being 'nearly dead' stems from. The fear that tomorrow won't come. Except...
Tomorrow Comes
I will not be spoiling Expedition 33 for you. If you even have a passing interest in video games, I urge you to play it.
In the opening minutes of the story, we learn two things:
- People in this world know exactly when they will die. Driven by the main antagonist of the story, "The Paintress"
- Each year, the Paintress paints a number 1 lower than the previous on a monolith, starting with 100. If you are that age or above, you are "gommaged"—meaning "scrub" in French—and you die.
- Each year after the gommage, an expedition is sent out in an attempt to stop The Paintress.
- Expedition 33 is the 67th expedition to be sent to stop the Paintress.
Heavy right? Topical even. Expedition 33 is made up of primarily people in their early thirties staring down the end of their lives. Truly nearly dead. Faced with this reality, they venture out into the unknown anyway in hopes of not only changing their fate, but the fate of everyone that still lives.
The themes of the story mostly focus on loss and grief, but to me, even within these dark opening moments, there is a sense of hope on the other end. The idea that your life is not over until you say so or someone stops you.
Pulling out a little bit, this game was made by Sandfall Interactive, a core studio of about 33 (though the total number of credited folks includes over 400 names). With some extremely light internet research, the average age of a developer at this studio sits at around 30 somewhere. The game takes, by the team's estimation, about 30-33 hours to complete. Many of the developers are ex-Ubisoft employees, a much larger multinational game company. Lorien Testard, the lead composer, has never worked on a completed video game before.
The lore of this game, the studio behind it, and all of the people involved become almost mystical the deeper you look into them. And yet, "Tomorrow comes," words spoken by mainly characters from the Expedition, ring true in real life almost more than in the game. Each of these experienced developers did not give up on themselves, and they made the game they wanted to make. Lorien always wanted to make video game music, and he's achieved an all-time classic with no prior resume.
So I ask again, "If you weren't afraid, what would you do?" I imagine this team had many fears. But I also think they don't know what they have started in this moment. Another often-repeated quote from the game speaks to me in this instant in what I hope is a moment of foresight.
For Those Who Come After
There is a saying that I love. The origin is unknown, but I am not certain that's important.
The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best time is now.
I think we spend a lot of time worrying about what we could have done in the past. I recently read a post that my brother sent me - High Agency. One of the few points I agreed with is that we spend too much time lingering on the past and ignoring the present. The present is the only time you can truly know.
What are we doing at this moment to plant trees for others or ourselves that will help us achieve great things in the coming years? "For those who come after," another Expedition motto. Expedition 33 is the 67th, which is a lot of failures to come before. But failure became an expectation, and rather than being seen as a total loss, it was shown to be an opportunity. Experience and knowledge became nearly as valuable as victory itself, 'for those who come after.'
This is my vision for Sandfall Interactive. Through their success, they have planted a seed of sorts. The video game industry is struggling. Mass layoffs, bloated budgets, greedy business practices—Clair Obscur, at this moment, stands for everything in opposition to these things. I'm hoping this shows larger game studios that they can achieve a better product with a passionate team. I'm hoping it shows smaller teams that they can find success where the fear of failure lives. I'm hoping Sandfall inspires more studios like it, for those who come after.
En Somme
I'm writing this to remind you and myself that when things seem tough, there is always something more. A new opportunity awaits you tomorrow, or the day after. There is so much beauty and opportunity in life. It's up to you to capture, notice, and embrace those moments.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 and the team at Sandfall were gracious enough to release this game as a reminder, and I'm thankful to them for that.
I look forward to what they release next and what the future brings for me. Tomorrow comes.