Parent Simulators: The Rise of Games About Parents and Children

For decades, video games have been associated with power, conquest, and dominance. The player was always a hero, soldier, chosen one, or survivor. But in recent years, a specific type of narrative has gained ground: games that don't revolve around saving the world—but about caring for someone.

More specifically, parent-child relationships have come to occupy the emotional center of various experiences. It's not just about following the game's plot, but about building a bond with those characters. The player ceases to be merely an agent of action and assumes an affective role, whether as a therapist, a reconciler, or even a tormentor.

This change isn’t accidental. It reflects both the maturity of the audience and an evolution in the language of games themselves, which have begun to explore complex emotions more naturally. And it’s these games that we’ll talk about. These are ten games that are almost like a "parent simulator", in which you and your son/daughter have such a strong relationship that it becomes part of the game.

The most talked-about "parent simulator" on the web right now.Pragmata takes place in the distant future where you, an engineer named Hugh, explore a space station to stop an AI that has gone out of control and disrupted the supply of an important strategic mineral resource to the planet. But so what? Nobody cares about the game's objective anymore. The biggest success is little Diana.

Responsible for making nine out of ten players want to be a girl's dad, Diana is an android who looks like a cheerful, curious, kind, and fun-loving six-year-old girl. As the game progresses, your relationship and friendship with Diana grows, and you can give her replicas created on a 3D printer of Earth toys. And watching Diana play with them is a show in itself. Playing basketball, enjoying the music and dancing, sliding down a slide.

The coolest thing is that, even being an android who could do everything perfectly, Diana falls while running and looks around to see if anyone saw, dances all wrong but happily, draws everything crooked. Diana becomes not only a companion on the journey but truly a daughter to the protagonist who plays with her.

Could Pragmata be an experiment by the Japanese government with Capcom's help to increase the birth rate in the country? Let's keep an eye on the increase in the number of babies named Diana in a few months!

Despite the controversies surrounding the second game, including Ellie's sexuality and Bella Ramsey's casting in the series, there's no denying that The Last of Us does an incredible job of building an excellent relationship between Ellie and Joel. At the beginning, the girl who was supposed to be just a package to be taken from point A to point B becomes one of the most beautiful relationships to see in gaming.

Ellie is a special girl, not only because she’s the possible hope for a cure for all humanity and the end of the cordyceps fungus infection that turns people into ravenous zombies, but she’s curious about the world before the plague, makes corny jokes, is reckless, impulsive like any child her age, who thinks she knows everything she needs to know and acts thoughtlessly, but she also breaks down, cries, and suffers when things go wrong.

And this way of hers breaks down the armor that Joel built around his heart after seeing his own daughter die when the world crumbled. Joel didn't just lose his daughter that day, he lost the whole world he knew. And when Ellie entered it, she made the man who didn't care about anything choose to save her instead of curing the infection. A choice he never regretted.

Although it's not exactly a relationship-focused game, you can see that our travelers build very strong bonds with the various characters we encounter on our journey. And among these characters, we have our children, whom I classify as "Little Ones", who also become attached and fond of us. Best of all, we have daughters for everyone!

Klee is pure cheerful, lively, and explosive energy (literally). The girl doesn't stay still for a minute, she's always running around, blowing things up, getting punished, and apologizing with a tearful voice and sad, teary eyes. But then, right after, she does it all again! And the package is complete with her beautiful, equally energetic and explosive mother, Alice. In other words, only advantages.

On the opposite end, we have Qiqi. She speaks softly, has a sad life story, is quiet, but extremely affectionate. Qiqi is the kind of child who hides behind her father's leg when someone offers her a sweet and looks at you with huge eyes, wanting that sweet more than anything in life, but only takes it when you allow it. You allow it, she takes the sweet, says an almost inaudible "thank you" and goes to eat it very politely, sitting quietly in a corner. But inside, she's bursting with joy.

Diona is headstrong and independent, like all cats, but she also loves being cared for and pampered. She's always angry and scolding because of her father's behavior, the hunter Draff, who’s always drinking and getting drunk. She takes care of him and is cared for by him in the same way, in a relationship where the older and more experienced one isn't always the most responsible. In the end, Diona reluctantly thanks you, saying she didn't ask you for anything, but her happily wagging feline tail reveals that, in fact, she’s very happy.

Besides her, we have the sleepy ninja Sayu, the little archon Nahida, the caring nurse Sigewinne, and more. In other words, there's every type of daughter for every type of father.

Although not a "parent simulator" like the others, Life is Strange: Before the Storm focuses on Chloe Price and her relationship with Rachel Amber before the first game, where we meet Max Cloverfield again. However, the game also focuses heavily on the relationship between Chloe and her father, William. Or rather, on how her father's death affected her.

Chloe was extremely attached to her father, and when he died in a car accident, she was devastated. Furthermore, Max moved to another state that same day, leaving Chloe without her two best friends. This caused her to rebel against the world because of how everything happened, taking out her anger on everything and everyone, distancing herself from her mother who was also suffering from William's death.

Throughout the game, Chloe dreams of her father, remembers moments with him, and also talks to him to the sound of old country songs they used to listen to together. Each time William appears injured and mutilated from the accident, it's another reflection of Chloe's own pain. In the end, she understands that her father wasn't to blame for the accident and didn't want to leave her behind. And she also changes the music, after all, the reconciliation happened in her car and she's in charge of the radio!

The first-person shooter game with rifts in space-time, powers to control and manipulate reality, time travel, and parallel universes is, at its core, a father-daughter story. And, even when we don't know about Booker and Elizabeth's blood relationship, at no point does the game establish a romantic atmosphere between them. It’d be expected, especially so that the impact of knowing she's his daughter would be much greater at the end, but the game never goes in that direction.

Booker DeWitt is hired by a brother and sister to rescue a girl in the city of Columbia. You’re launched into the skies and discover an unbelievable, highly technological flying city, with serums that grant you access to special powers and a mechanical bird devoted to protecting its target, Elizabeth, a girl with the power to manipulate time-space and open rifts to other realities.

In the end, we discover that Booker himself, in another reality, devastated by the loss of his daughter, dedicates himself to science and, with the help of the siblings who hired him, builds the city of Columbia and a way to travel between dimensions so that he can visit another reality and steal Elizabeth from himself! You steal your own daughter from yourself and then go to save her from yourself! "World's Best/Worst Dad" seal for you!

If in the first game there was already a paternal relationship between Sam and the BB, that little thing that stayed in the capsule and helped him see the spirits and creatures of the world that hindered him from making his deliveries, in Death Stranding 2: On the Beach this relationship becomes even stronger and deeper. If you haven't played the first one, it's best to skip this one if you don't want major spoilers.

We find out that BB is, in some way, Sam's biological daughter. How things happened and how she ended up in that aquarium he carries, you'll have to play to find out! The thing is, right at the beginning of the game, an attack on Sam's base mortally wounds BB, but her consciousness and spirit (or whatever the game explains) remain connected to Sam and "the Beach", and she returns as Tomorrow, an older girl who moves between the two planes.

Here, the relationship is one of loss, grief, reunion, and reconnection. If in the first game, Sam and BB were a duo, with Sam caring for her even though she was just "a tool", here we have a father who doesn't know how to react and interact with a daughter who, all of a sudden, is independent, autonomous, and no longer needs care and protection. He takes care of her because that's what he should do as a father, without knowing if she needs care, but at the same time, he's torn between letting her be an adult or treating her like that baby he lost in a cowardly attack.

Kratos is known for his god-slaying rage and powerful blows capable of destroying worlds, but, in a few moments, we remember that he was a father who lost his family and carries their ashes on his skin as a constant reminder of his mistakes. However, can we really blame him for that? He was manipulated by Ares to do what he did and, most importantly, he grew up learning only to fight and combat as dictated by Spartan traditions.

So, when we see him as Atreus' father in the modern God of War saga, can we really blame him for treating the boy so harshly and scolding him so much for every little mistake he makes, or is that just how he knows how to handle things? Even though Kratos calls him "boy" all the time and gets angry at every reckless and wrong act, at no point does he allow Atreus to get hurt or suffer at the hands of the gods of Asgard.

And when we discover that Atreus is, in fact, Loki, the ice giant destined to start Ragnarök, Kratos puts himself in front of Odin, Thor, and all the other gods to protect his son. Kratos is the type of cold and distant father, perhaps because his relationship with his own father, Zeus, was distant and cold, but, whether a great or terrible father, Kratos never let anything bad happen to Atreus.

It's not a healthy relationship, at least not at the beginning, but it's psychologically very interesting precisely because of that, because it shows a relationship that starts out dysfunctional and is rebuilt throughout the gameplay with you being both the player and the family therapist at the same time.

In the midst of a zombie apocalypse, where the world no longer has any rules, The Walking Dead builds one of the strongest adult-child relationships in video games. Lee Everett isn't Clementine's father, but he quickly assumes that role, not out of obligation, but by choice.

Unlike other stories, here the relationship doesn't start out perfect. Clementine is a frightened, lonely child, while Lee is a man with a complicated past trying to do the right thing for the first time in a long time. Gradually, through difficult decisions and moments of tension, the two create a bond based on trust and learning.

Lee not only protects Clementine, he teaches her. And that's the most important point. Each choice the player makes directly influences what she learns about the world: when to trust, when to distrust, when to act, and when to retreat. In a scenario where surviving often means losing one's own humanity, he needs to balance care with toughness.

Clementine, in turn, grows before the player's eyes. From a defenseless child, she begins to understand how the world works, absorbing everything Lee does—both the successes and the mistakes. And that's precisely where the relationship gains strength: it's not about perfection, but about trying.

It's not a traditional father-daughter relationship, but it works as one of the most genuine in games. Lee didn't have time to learn how to be a father, just as Clementine didn't have time to simply be a child. And in the end, what remains isn’t just survival, but the impact they had on each other's lives.

In The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, the relationship between Geralt and Ciri doesn't begin during the game. It already exists, from the books and previous games, but it's constantly tested because they face a world that’s constantly trying to destroy and break that bond!

Geralt isn't Ciri's father, except that he kinda is! And he'll slash anyone who says otherwise. He trained, protected, and watched her grow, and that's reflected in every decision throughout the journey. More than finding Ciri, the game is about how Geralt reacts to what she's done.

And, depending on how Geralt acts (whether he supports her, trusts her, tries to control her, or acts as if she can't manage on her own), her destiny changes completely. The game makes it clear that it's not about protecting her at all costs, but about preparing her to face the world alone.

Ciri isn't a helpless child. She's powerful, independent, and makes her own decisions. This changes the dynamic of their relationship. Geralt doesn't need to teach her how to survive (he already did that), but he needs to learn to trust that she can do it alone and "let go of her hand".

The game is about: "Your daughter has grown up, father! Let her go". In the end, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt shows that being a father isn't always about protecting, but about knowing that one day your child will stand on their own two feet, fall, make mistakes, stumble, make right and wrong decisions, and have their own life. You gotta be there for them when they need you.

From the classic franchise, Lara Croft's motivations for becoming the explorer are related to her father's legacy and obsession with finding ancient artifacts and relics, but in Rise of the Tomb Raider, the relationship between Lara Croft and her father, Lord Richard Croft, takes on a much greater weight than in previous games.

Here, Lara's father isn’t just a distant memory. He’s a constant presence through her research, theories, and, above all, her obsession. Richard Croft dedicated his life to proving the existence of mysteries that the world insisted on calling fantasy. He was discredited, lost everything, and ended up consumed by this quest.

The journey to redeem her father's name takes Lara from frozen Siberia to hidden ruins, facing a paramilitary organization willing to do anything to achieve the same goal: the secret of eternal life. But, in the midst of all this, the real conflict lies not only in the enemies or the physical challenges, but in how much she’s repeating her father's steps.

With each document found, with each clue he left behind, it becomes clearer that this isn’t just an archaeological mission—it's an attempt to validate his legacy. Lara wants to prove he was right, but she also needs to face the cost of this obsession.

Here, there isn't a living relationship happening, but a relationship being revisited. Lara doesn't need to learn to survive or be protected. What's at stake is understanding whether following in her father's footsteps is a way to honor him or to lose herself in the same way.

This is about how a father marked his daughter's life through his legacy and work. She wants to prove her father was right and carries that with her all the time. It's a relationship between a daughter and the memory of her father.

Not every game builds a deep or developed relationship, but some still play with this idea of ​​father and child (or something close to it) in curious ways—sometimes more as motivation, sometimes as a gag, but still worth mentioning.

In Mega Man 4, we have Dr. Cossack, who assumes the role of villain not by choice, but by coercion. His daughter, Kalinka Cossack, is kidnapped, and everything he does throughout the game is a desperate attempt to protect her. His motivation is 100% paternal.

In the Mass Effect franchise, Captain David Anderson, our superior, functions more as a father figure to Commander Shepard. It's not a blood relationship, but one of respect, guidance, and trust, and when he dies beside us, it hurts. He's the kind of mentor who clearly occupies the fatherly role in the relationship.

In EarthBound, the relationship between Ness and his father is almost a recurring joke. He never appears, only calls to give money and save game progress. Even so, there's a curious presence there: distant, absent, dysfunctional, but functional in its own way.

Finally, in Katamari Damacy, we have perhaps the most chaotic example of all. The King of All Cosmos and the Prince don't have a particularly healthy relationship—far from it. The father destroys the universe and sends his son to fix everything. It's exaggerated, absurd, and completely dysfunctional, but still, it's a father-son relationship… just taken to the extreme of nonsense.