- Joined
- Dec 9, 2024
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Recently, my best friend passed away.
It’s still hard to accept, even though at 43 I’ve already experienced the loss of many loved ones.
I met my friend Carlos in college. It wasn’t my first choice—I had initially studied Law, but it didn’t feel right for me. My second degree was in History, and the best part of this new chapter—one that truly aligned with who I am—was the friends I made. Carlos was one of those people who were effortlessly funny. I could tell you several stories that I’m sure you’d say, “man, I don’t get what’s so funny!”
Maybe it was the way he told them, or the fact that it was us in those awkward or weird situations. I don’t really know, maybe it was just the two of us going through terrible stuff together, with a sprinkle of hope hidden under layers of nonsense humor—kind of a '90s kid thing.
With Carlos, I shared a huge passion for video games and pop culture. We were always exchanging references—websites, movies, forums. We shared games on Steam, and any meetup was guaranteed to bring hours of conversation about some new release, some hardcore, metal, or punk band that just had to be listened to at that exact moment. If you have someone like this in your life, you’ll understand what I mean when I say that friends give true meaning to the words: “I really love this.”
Carlos, like me, was obsessed with wrestling—more specifically, obscure Japanese wrestling games. "King of Colosseum II" or "Wrestle Kingdom 2: Pro Wrestling Sekai Taisen" fans will know what I’m talking about.
In Brazil, during the ‘80s and early ‘90s, wrestling was a thing. It was called "Telecatch" and even had a TV show in the ‘90s called "Gigantes do Ringue". We’d spend ages talking about those days. They were good times.
One of our friends hated Nicolas Cage. That alone was enough for us to endlessly bring up Con Air as the greatest movie of all time—and how it deserved a video game.
Nintendo? Totally missing out on making something for the whole family.
Counter-Strike and the so-called “corujão” (an all-nighter at the LAN house, usually on weekends), dial-up connections, downloading anime on Saturdays when Brazil had discounted rates for internet access (which was painfully slow). Buying “alternative” PS2 games from newsstands. Van Damme, Brazilian TV in the ‘90s, ratings wars, and of course, Corinthians (the São Paulo-based soccer team)—these were echoes of our friendship. Right now, we’d probably be deep into a conversation about how to patch some All Star Pro Wrestling game and mod in a famous Brazilian sportscaster like Galvão Bueno calling a Kenta Kobashi vs. Don Frye match. Now, all of that is just silence and nostalgia.
Carlos and I graduated in History, became teachers, and often talked about the challenges of teaching—and the dream of inspiring people with this idea: life is an adventure, with level-ups. Learning new things doesn’t turn you into a dragon like Ryu from Breath of Fire—which we loved to discuss (especially why Capcom shelved the series, though it recently got a PC port on GOG)—and knowing algebra or ancient Sumerians won’t help you beat some Final Fantasy Ultima Weapon.
But when you balance it all—what gives you joy in a well-written story—it does help you defeat the daily monsters, the ones inside ourselves.
In this life, no one is an NPC. We all make meaningful connections with each other.
The last game I talked to Carlos about was Thank Goodness You're Here!. Carlos told me a secret for getting a different ending. Spoiler alert…
Just sit patiently in the mayor’s waiting room.
I’m still playing that game, laughing, jotting things down that I wish I could share with my friend.
Same with City of Wolves—I keep wondering what kind of joke we’d make about Cristiano Ronaldo... maybe SNK should consider releasing a DLC with Nicolas Cage in a white t-shirt, using deadly techniques he learned from the U.S. Navy.
I think he’d agree with me on that.
This week, I had one of those vivid dreams that really stick with you. I met up with my friend for one of our classic chats, and from everything I’ve written here, you might even doubt whether I’m capable of teaching kids anything besides a Konami code cheat to unlock something amazing—but completely useless.
I woke up and I remember so clearly meeting him for a beer on a hot day in São Paulo. The difference this time was that when we said goodbye, and I said “see you later,” Carlos replied: “Dude, no… I’m super dead, that’s not happening. Just let it be.” I can think about that line now without sadness swallowing me whole.
We won’t meet again, but I hope that in everything I experience, there’s a bit of my friend there—some flicker of memory or longing that, if not cured, at least becomes bearable nostalgia. For all the years ahead, for as long as I live, I’ll be filled with nostalgia for that colorful, fantastic world of video games—as much as I’ll be for my friend’s absence. Now I can say that I love video games, but explaining why will always be complicated, difficult, and incredibly nostalgic.
One of the last images Carlos shared on Steam was a screenshot from Hades, an insanely good metroidvania. A sun with a red-tinted background. If you stop and really look, it gives you that feeling of calm right before something either difficult or wonderful is about to happen—either way, something to be done...
And I have many things left to do here, my friend.
To my friends who read this too: so much left to do.
It’s still hard to accept, even though at 43 I’ve already experienced the loss of many loved ones.
I met my friend Carlos in college. It wasn’t my first choice—I had initially studied Law, but it didn’t feel right for me. My second degree was in History, and the best part of this new chapter—one that truly aligned with who I am—was the friends I made. Carlos was one of those people who were effortlessly funny. I could tell you several stories that I’m sure you’d say, “man, I don’t get what’s so funny!”
Maybe it was the way he told them, or the fact that it was us in those awkward or weird situations. I don’t really know, maybe it was just the two of us going through terrible stuff together, with a sprinkle of hope hidden under layers of nonsense humor—kind of a '90s kid thing.
With Carlos, I shared a huge passion for video games and pop culture. We were always exchanging references—websites, movies, forums. We shared games on Steam, and any meetup was guaranteed to bring hours of conversation about some new release, some hardcore, metal, or punk band that just had to be listened to at that exact moment. If you have someone like this in your life, you’ll understand what I mean when I say that friends give true meaning to the words: “I really love this.”
Carlos, like me, was obsessed with wrestling—more specifically, obscure Japanese wrestling games. "King of Colosseum II" or "Wrestle Kingdom 2: Pro Wrestling Sekai Taisen" fans will know what I’m talking about.
In Brazil, during the ‘80s and early ‘90s, wrestling was a thing. It was called "Telecatch" and even had a TV show in the ‘90s called "Gigantes do Ringue". We’d spend ages talking about those days. They were good times.
One of our friends hated Nicolas Cage. That alone was enough for us to endlessly bring up Con Air as the greatest movie of all time—and how it deserved a video game.
Nintendo? Totally missing out on making something for the whole family.
Counter-Strike and the so-called “corujão” (an all-nighter at the LAN house, usually on weekends), dial-up connections, downloading anime on Saturdays when Brazil had discounted rates for internet access (which was painfully slow). Buying “alternative” PS2 games from newsstands. Van Damme, Brazilian TV in the ‘90s, ratings wars, and of course, Corinthians (the São Paulo-based soccer team)—these were echoes of our friendship. Right now, we’d probably be deep into a conversation about how to patch some All Star Pro Wrestling game and mod in a famous Brazilian sportscaster like Galvão Bueno calling a Kenta Kobashi vs. Don Frye match. Now, all of that is just silence and nostalgia.
Carlos and I graduated in History, became teachers, and often talked about the challenges of teaching—and the dream of inspiring people with this idea: life is an adventure, with level-ups. Learning new things doesn’t turn you into a dragon like Ryu from Breath of Fire—which we loved to discuss (especially why Capcom shelved the series, though it recently got a PC port on GOG)—and knowing algebra or ancient Sumerians won’t help you beat some Final Fantasy Ultima Weapon.
But when you balance it all—what gives you joy in a well-written story—it does help you defeat the daily monsters, the ones inside ourselves.
In this life, no one is an NPC. We all make meaningful connections with each other.
The last game I talked to Carlos about was Thank Goodness You're Here!. Carlos told me a secret for getting a different ending. Spoiler alert…
Just sit patiently in the mayor’s waiting room.
I’m still playing that game, laughing, jotting things down that I wish I could share with my friend.
Same with City of Wolves—I keep wondering what kind of joke we’d make about Cristiano Ronaldo... maybe SNK should consider releasing a DLC with Nicolas Cage in a white t-shirt, using deadly techniques he learned from the U.S. Navy.
I think he’d agree with me on that.
This week, I had one of those vivid dreams that really stick with you. I met up with my friend for one of our classic chats, and from everything I’ve written here, you might even doubt whether I’m capable of teaching kids anything besides a Konami code cheat to unlock something amazing—but completely useless.
I woke up and I remember so clearly meeting him for a beer on a hot day in São Paulo. The difference this time was that when we said goodbye, and I said “see you later,” Carlos replied: “Dude, no… I’m super dead, that’s not happening. Just let it be.” I can think about that line now without sadness swallowing me whole.
We won’t meet again, but I hope that in everything I experience, there’s a bit of my friend there—some flicker of memory or longing that, if not cured, at least becomes bearable nostalgia. For all the years ahead, for as long as I live, I’ll be filled with nostalgia for that colorful, fantastic world of video games—as much as I’ll be for my friend’s absence. Now I can say that I love video games, but explaining why will always be complicated, difficult, and incredibly nostalgic.
One of the last images Carlos shared on Steam was a screenshot from Hades, an insanely good metroidvania. A sun with a red-tinted background. If you stop and really look, it gives you that feeling of calm right before something either difficult or wonderful is about to happen—either way, something to be done...
And I have many things left to do here, my friend.
To my friends who read this too: so much left to do.
