Colin Bracksieck

 

“I know you like the name Alex, but I will tell you that there’s a character named Alex later on in the game.” We watched the text cursor blink in and out, the game prompting me to name the character. I was surprised at the statement and not exactly sure why he thought I was going to name the character Alex, but my head was clouded by nerves so I didn’t question it as much as I usually would. My heart raced as I began to move the arrow keys to type out “Colin” on the letter pad. I didn’t know what my brother was going to say or how he was going to react, I almost deleted it after working up all that courage to type it in the first place. “Colin, I like that name” was all he said before I could change my mind. He was eager to start playing, Celeste had been one of his favorite games for months and he kept bugging me to play it so I finally caved. The memory is so vivid, his acknowledgement of my name for the first time made me forget about the knot in my stomach.

“This is it COLIN. Just breathe. Why are you so nervous?” The first words of the game already addressing me directly, one of the first times I had been addressed by my name, telling me to breathe, asking why I was nervous. I almost felt like the game could see into my soul, like it was truly talking just to me. The game Celeste is about a girl named Madeline who struggles with anxiety and depression when she decides to climb the Celeste mountain. I didn’t know this at the time (it was almost perfect to the point that read this in a book or saw it in a movie I’d probably complain that it was too on the nose), but the creator of the game, Maddy Thorson, is a trans woman. The character and story of Madeline was created long before she knew she was trans, but telling her story helped her come to that realization.

“I’m not good at this game” I’d complain when I was having a hard time on a level, but no matter how long I would spend on a level or how close I’d get to giving up, my brother sat next to me gently encouraging me to try one more time, that he knew I could do it, and he was right every time. He showed me all the little easter eggs and secrets and would motivate me to get all the collectables. His eyes would light up when he talked about how much he enjoyed playing the levels or whenever I would make progress.

My entire world as I knew it was falling apart around me, everything I thought I knew about myself was splitting at the seams and I was in constant disarray, unsure of my place in the universe. It was different in my room. Me and my brother would sit huddled around my computer for hours, talking while I slowly climbed Celeste mountain. It was comforting and safe, and I didn’t have to think about what the future would be like or who I was or anything like that, all I had to worry about was climbing the mountain.

My brother, of course, knew something was off the whole time. When I finally came out to him a few months later, all he said was “Oh yeah, I knew.” When we played Celeste he was always encouraging, patient, gentle, but if I was having a hard time he would never do it for me even though he could clear the level in a minute or two. He always told me to get the collectable items even though they weren’t needed to advance in the game, and whenever I said I couldn’t do it he would push me to try a few more times. Similarly, he wouldn’t tell me he knew I was trans, he’d only tell me he was here if I was ready to talk. He would see me struggle and he wouldn’t pity me, instead he’d push me to heal.

When I told him I was cutting myself he was sympathetic, but he was firm. He told me if I didn’t tell our parents soon he would have to. He told me he knew I could do it. When I told him I couldn’t finish the level and I wanted him to do it for me (which was often) he would tell me to just try one more time, he knew I could do it. Again, he was always right.

It was a little over a year ago but I never ended up finishing Celeste (only because it’s not meant to be played on computer and the keyboard mechanics began to work less and less well as the levels progressed). He still asks me every once in a while if I’m planning on finishing it anytime. I’m still climbing my own mountain, trying to navigate the world through my own obstacles, but maybe one day I’ll return to finish climbing Celeste mountain.