Some days just hit differently. Maybe work’s been relentless, you’ve had a string of awkward social interactions, or you just wake up in one of those moods where nothing feels quite right. On days like that, I don’t want anything demanding. I’m not looking for a challenge or some fast-paced new release that expects me to memorise combos and master mechanics. I want comfort. Something soft around the edges. Familiar. Predictable in the best way.
Traditionally, we talk about comfort in terms of films or TV shows. The kinds of things you’ve seen so many times you can quote whole episodes without trying. You know the beats, the dialogue, the exact moment the background music swells. I’ve got my comfort watches too, (for me, it’s Red Dwarf) but honestly, games have taken over that role in my life. They’re just as nostalgic and just as reliable—but with the bonus of giving you something to do with your hands. They ask for just enough attention to drown out whatever your brain’s trying to spiral over.
There’s a lot of power in that. Sometimes I need to be distracted, but not overwhelmed. I want to do something, but I don’t want to think too much. That’s where comfort games come in. Whether it’s because of the nostalgia they carry, the chilled gameplay loop, or the sense of being transported somewhere else entirely, these are the games that bring me peace. They’re like digital hot chocolate.
Here are the games I return to again and again, whenever I need something safe, steady, and comforting.
The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past
I’ve said this before, but A Link to the Past is basically my gaming comfort blanket. Booting it up on my SNES is like stepping into a time capsule. The menu screen alone is enough to calm me down, and once the opening cutscene starts, it’s like I’ve come home. Every sound effect, every sprite, every transition feels like something ingrained in my muscle memory.
This is the first game I remember truly getting lost in. Not in the ‘I don’t know where to go’ way, but in the ‘I could sit here and play this for hours and completely forget time exists’ kind of way. The music is perfect, the dungeon design is clever without being punishing, and the world of Hyrule is full of charm. It’s complex enough to feel rewarding, but familiar enough that I don’t feel any pressure. I know the solutions. I know where the hidden heart pieces are. I even know the exact rhythm of the boss fights.
Playing on the original SNES hardware makes it even better. There’s no distractions—no online features, no updates, no annoying menus to navigate. It’s just you, the controller, and a classic game that still holds up after all these years. The nostalgia is almost tangible. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of pulling that Master Sword from the pedestal.
Stardew Valley
I don’t think there’s a single more wholesome game in my collection than Stardew Valley. It’s like therapy with pixel art. There’s something profoundly calming about rolling out of bed in your little farmhouse, watering some crops, chatting with the neighbours, and maybe heading down to the mines if you’re feeling brave.
The beauty of Stardew is that it asks so little of you, but offers so much. You’re never punished for playing at your own pace. If you want to befriend every villager and give them personalised gifts, go ahead. If you’d rather fill your entire farm with pumpkins and ignore the social calendar completely, that’s fine too. The game never rushes you, never shames you for missing something. Everything will still be there tomorrow.
One of the best parts, for me, is that it’s co-op. My wife and I often jump into the same farm together, each going about our own little tasks. Sometimes we’re side-by-side planting crops, other times I’m off fishing while she gets lost in the mines. It’s a low-pressure, lovely way to spend time together. We chat, potter around, and build something shared. It’s simple, cosy, and just… nice. When life gets a bit much, having that shared little pixel world to retreat to together is something really special.
7 Days to Die
This is the most recent release on my list—if you can call it that. It’s still technically in beta despite being around for years, which is part of its strange charm. 7 Days to Die feels like it’s constantly in flux, but for some reason, that doesn’t stop it from being one of the most surprisingly comforting games I own.
At first glance, it looks like the polar opposite of what you’d expect from a comfort game. The world’s bleak, full of decaying towns, mutant zombies, and an ever-looming sense of danger. But once you get past that initial panic of surviving your first few days, it settles into a surprisingly soothing rhythm. There’s a comfort in routine, even if that routine involves digging trenches and hoarding canned food.
Playing it co-op adds another layer of enjoyment. This is another game that Alex and I have spent countless evenings building ridiculous bases together, scavenging for loot, and helping each other out of near-death situations. There’s something fun (and strangely bonding) about working together to survive. Whether we’re reinforcing the defences before a blood moon or just calmly fixing up our base while the sun sets, it’s surprisingly peaceful for a game full of undead horrors.
Some evenings I log in just to potter about—repair a wall here, plant a few trees there—and she’s usually nearby doing something equally mundane but essential. It’s that shared rhythm that makes it so comforting. Yes, zombies will attack eventually—but for now, we’ve got a plan, we’ve got each other, and we’ve got spikes. What more do you need?
Skyrim
Is it even possible to talk about comfort games without mentioning Skyrim? I don’t think there’s another game I’ve reinstalled more often. There’s something deeply satisfying about the freedom it offers—this massive, snowy world where you can go anywhere, be anyone, and completely ignore the main quest if you want to.
When I’m playing Skyrim for comfort, I don’t usually bother with dragons or world-ending prophecies. I pick flowers. I craft potions I’ll never use. I wander into caves just to see what’s there. I do little fetch quests for villagers who probably think I’m the most helpful person in all of Tamriel. It’s pure escapism, but with enough interactivity to keep my hands busy.
There’s a kind of quiet beauty in how you can lose yourself in the world, walking through the woods as the sun sets, watching the snow drift down in Solitude, listening to the soundtrack swell as you crest a mountain. It’s a place I know like the back of my hand, but one that still surprises me from time to time. That balance of familiarity and discovery makes it the perfect comfort game. It’s not just a game—it’s a second home.
Honourable Mentions
While they’re not comfort games in the traditional sense, Mass Effect and The Last of Us both hold a special place in my heart. They’re heavier, more emotional, and definitely more intense than the others on this list—but there’s still a comfort in returning to them.
Mass Effect is like revisiting an old friend. I know the story beats, the choices, the outcomes. But I still love going back to chat with Garrus, run errands for Liara, and save the galaxy in slightly different ways each time. The world is rich, the characters feel real, and the music hits me right in the nostalgia.
The Last of Us, on the other hand, is comfort of a different kind. It’s darker, rawer, more emotionally draining—but sometimes, weirdly, that’s what I need. The story is powerful. The characters are so well drawn. And even though I know what’s coming, I still feel compelled to go through it all again. There’s comfort in its consistency. And in knowing that, even in a brutal world, there’s still space for love, grief, and humanity.
Final Thoughts
Comfort games are different for everyone. What soothes one person might stress another out completely. For me, it’s a mix of nostalgia, simplicity, and the kind of gameplay that lets me switch off while still feeling immersed. These games have seen me through bad days, long nights, and moments when I just needed to feel like I was in control of something.
Whether it’s pottering around in Stardew Valley, fortifying my zombie base in 7 Days , or wandering through the forests and plains Skyrim, these games give me space to breathe. They don’t ask too much, but they give back plenty.
And let’s be honest—sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.
Gareth Ellis - Author 