What is a "cozy" game?
The first attempt, perhaps of many, to deconstruct the term. Could we find a better one out there?
I don’t recall exactly when I first heard the term “cozy gaming, “ but it was definitely well after I had sunk 500+ hours into Stardew Valley. Did Cozy Grove (a fitting name) make me think about it?
Regardless, initially, Stardew Valley was the only game I needed in my life. I was too busy farming iridium melons and repeatedly dying in the Skull Cavern for anything else.
(Okay kids, you know those green flying serpents? The trick is to swing your weapon early, like a second before you’d think necessary, because their hitboxes are big and weird and so is yours when they attack and)
Anyway.
Deeper into my journey of self-discovery as a gamer and figuring out the genres I like, I learned that Stardew Valley and many other titles fall under the “cozy gaming“ umbrella. Really? Like a cozy blanket?
How do you define “cozy“?
Despite the snark, I have always intuitively understood what “cozy“ referred to. You likely do, too.
A cozy experience is something a little bit mundane, with a little bit of simulation, with a little bit of repetition—something to sink into with a cup of hot chocolate under a blanket on a rainy afternoon to relax and unwind.
A little bit mundane, a little bit of simulation, a little bit of repetition—something to sink into with a cup of hot chocolate under a blanket on a rainy afternoon to relax and unwind…
The way I just described cozy games seems to cover two distinct attempts at defining the term. The first focuses on the low-stakes repetition and the grind that many people find comforting and enjoyable, myself included. Hence the proliferation of farming, fishing, and cooking elements in these games—the holy trifecta of “cozy.”
The other one is more about the subjective feeling of being soothed and comforted that cozy games invoke. Is it all about charming graphics, lighthearted stories, colourful vegetables to sell, cute friendship, and romance with NPCs?
Both tell only a part of the story, and this is precisely where “cozy“ completely falls apart for me.
Different strokes for different folks
“Cozy“ is a loaded term that comes with expectations. When these expectations don’t meet reality, gamers end up disappointed and not having fun.
The problem is that different people interpret all of the terms I used to describe “cozy“ above—low-stakes, grinding, comforting, charming, lighthearted etc—differently.
It’s just not possible to agree on a shared definition because everyone’s understanding of these terms is subjective, unique, and correct—for them personally.
That makes the term meaningless and a useless descriptor. Dead end.
Well, what about the core elements of cozy games that we all love? Can’t they act as the genre glue? Sure, the gameplay mechanics like farming and fishing have come to define cozy games. But these, too, don’t tell the whole story.
The gameplay mechanics like farming and fishing have come to define cozy games. But these, too, don’t tell the whole story.
On one hand, this isn’t a problem for the “cozy“ category as a whole—seeing games with these mechanics labelled “cozy“ is actually helpful because I enjoy these elements. It’s a nice shortcut to finding new games to play while weeding out other genres when I’m after something more management-like.
The issue is the games that have no business being labeled “cozy“ by any stretch but happen to involve these elements. They get lumped in with other cozy games anyway, and that doesn’t sit right with me at all.
I recently wrote about The Stillness of the Wind, a short, haunting narrative experience about loneliness, loss, and dying.
Its Wikipedia page describes it as a farming simulation game, and I’m not exaggerating: this line makes me recoil in horror.
It. Is. Not. A. Farming. Simulation.
You can farm in it. But unless your definition of farming involves planting one seed a day and taking another day to get to the well to water it while wolves are circling your chicken coop, then you’ll have a bad time trying to be cozy with The Stillness of the Wind.
Neither specific game mechanics nor specific subjective descriptors ever succeed at describing the game completely. The result is either reductive or plain wrong. Another dead end.
And it gets worse!
When everything is “cozy“, nothing is
Take one look at a handful of cozy gaming subreddits and forums, and you will find plenty of discussions of cozy game faves that are bound to reveal titles I wouldn’t touch with a six-foot pole.
Someone mentioned Zelda: The Breath of the Wild being cozy. I can kinda see that one, but what about that Ganon dude, my guy? Doesn't it make you worried, at least a little bit? But hey, Link can plant carrots, so I guess it fits! (Or was it in The Tears of the Kingdom?)
Skyrim was cozy for someone. Good for them. I get nausea by association every time I think about Skyrim because I played it in the first trimester of a difficult pregnancy, and my body still remembers, I guess. (It’s true!)
As a side note, a lot of the cozy game community doesn’t even find Stardew Valley cozy. Which, fair enough. It isn’t low stakes. Days pass too quickly. The mines are dangerous. The resources are scarce. The energy bar is dangerously short. We’re one hunger mechanic away from a souls-like experience. (I’m kidding but do I?) Yet, it’s the crown jewel of the whole flock.
Hey, someone also once said Hollow Knight was cozy.
“Cozy“ is what you make it
For the longest time, I had truly been at an impasse as to how to define cozy gaming and if it was even possible.
“Cozy“ isn’t just broad. It’s a subjective term to such a degree that no other genre can beat. We can all sort of agree what “soulslike“ or “action adventure“ means. Sort of.
But “cozy“? Fat chance, beyond the trite “It has farming!“
And then it hit me:
More so than the intuitive feeling of comfort or lightheartedness, what “cozy” means for me is that it doesn’t unsettle.
What “cozy” means for me is that it doesn’t unsettle.
It can have high stakes, and be fast-paced, and have combat and all that. But I need to feel safe in that universe, cocooned, as it were. Exist in the bubble of tasks and relationship meters, whatever. But no feelings of dread or deep philosophical questions.
This definition fits my cozy games really well, but my understanding of “not unsettling“ is highly subjective too. What I find disturbing or stressful won’t be to others. Enter Hollow Knight et al.
Another important point to make is that at its core, “cozy“ gets confused with “comforting“. Maybe they are the same thing, but not for me. By my definition of feeling safe in-universe, The Witcher games are cozy games. They don’t unsettle, and I love them with all my heart, but that doesn't make them cozy. They are my comfort games—no more, no less—a subject of another post.
“Cozy“ isn’t a genre
So where does it all leave us?
My conclusion is that “cozy” is not a genre. We can never agree on a definition.
You can call whatever you want “cozy“ as long as it has meaning to you. My “cozy“ is not your “cozy“, unless we’re sharing a blanket to cuddle under.
“Cozy“ isn’t a genre. “Cozy“ is a game label in your personal Steam library.
Now let’s fight about it!
Talk about a cozy post! But in all honesty great exploration of the genre. The relentless pursuit of wanting to categorize everything leaves much to think about when questioned.
It’s so fascinating to see new labels defining new genres and games challenging the norm