September 22, 2025

Has it already been that long?

I remember when Doki Doki Literature Club! came out. It was weird, and new, and to someone who had never encountered visual novels before (me) it was an introduction to a new genre. It was a subject of extensive and severe memeing and general Internet jokes for a long time (still is, in some places), but it was never that to me. It was always something more. Though I couldn't articulate it at the time, DDLC carried an impact and emotion with it that I needed in my life at the time, and that would inspire me for years to come. Even now, writing these words 8 years after it's original release, the characters and the writing still sit in my mind and often come to the forefront when I need them.

For someone who maybe never thought about the game in that way, it may sound a little foreign. And to be fair, there's not a dichotomy between "memeing it to death" and "Game of the Year 2017", there's definitely a balanced middle ground that a lot of people fall into. The subject of the game is heavy, serious, genuine discussion of philosophical concepts like life, death, what it means to be alive, and have worth. It also broaches many topics of mental health and the ways we cope with what happens to us/around us. I found this game right as my personal struggle with depression started, and as I grew and learned to cope with it - in both healthy and unhealthy ways - this game and it's characters kept coming back to me. I had never seen mental health discussed this way before, especially not a video game. It gave me a bit of an avenue for expression to be able to explore myself and topics I wasn't familiar with, through the lens of characters and a game world.

It doesn't take an analytical genius to know that this game covers some heavy themes. The game opens with a content warning page, and in talking about it, I put a content warning at the top of this post. It's not exactly revolutionary to say that DDLC talks about depression, or self harm, or any of the other things it talks about. It's not exactly keeping it obscured. However, the thing that always kept me hooked and made me think about the game a lot longer and a lot deeper that others was the ways in which it implies the detail of the world that the game uses as a backdrop. Yes, the game world is shallow and incomplete; this is touched upon through character dialogue and related paratext in DDLC Plus. However, there is a lot to be inferred about their world from the text, the poems the four girls write, and the general context of the game. Obviously the release of DDLC Plus in 2021 (4 years ago, by the way) helps to fill in these gaps, but it also confirms ideas that are only hinted at in the base game, and expands not only the world, but the characters we're so familiar with.

Yes, technically Plus takes place in an alternate timeline, but the context is all the same. The only difference is that Monika, nor anyone else, seems to realize that they live in a box in a computer. Though you could supplement this idea by connecting the Side Stories to the base game linearly, and saying that Monika has her epiphany somewhere in between, it is canon that they are separate worlds. This doesn't negate the connections nor importance of the Side Stories, however. As I said, the context is all the same. These are still the same girls we know, and the same club, in the same school, etc. It only serves to further build on the ideas and foundation laid by the base game, furthering our understanding of the writing as a whole.

But, trying to get back on track a little bit here. DDLC covers some heavy themes. In fact, it could be said that each of the girls represents a different aspect of mental health, and copes with it each in their own way. This is most evident with Sayori and her struggles with depression, eventually leading to her suicide at the end of Act 1. What many people gloss over, however, is Yuri and Natsuki's struggles, and how they present themselves in the game's later acts. Yuri especially is often brushed off, highlighting her "yandere" trope that she personifies, and leaving it there. All four girls are often belittled to their tropes, some more than others, as a way to avoid the difficult conversations of their character and what their struggles mean to us as a reader. In an Internet landscape full of toxicity and insults as a standard, suicide becomes a joke, a meme. Self harm becomes a quirky character trait for the yandere girlfriend. Abuse and self worth become footnotes in the tsundere playbook. It strips everything of it's meaning, and it all ends up as a meaningless grey sphere of slop.

So, if we stop thinking about the Internet and the memes and the jokes and the tropes, and we step back and look at the big picture, look at the piece as a whole... what does it tell us? What does it have to say? Literally, what does each girl say that can give us a window into what they stand for and what their struggles mean to us, the reader, in our lives?

As I said, each girl personifies a trope. Sayori is bubbly and happy, always cheerful and encouraging and uplifting those around her. She also falls into the "childhood friend/girl next door" trope. But the game doesn't leave this persona where it lies, flat and unoriginal. It speaks to a very real experience for some people, using joy and wearing a mask as a way to cope with deep depression. She writes poems that are wistful and whimsical at first, seeking a distraction or amusement. But as time goes on, and she explores more of herself with a pen and paper, she shares more and more about her mind and how she operates. She writes about giving away all that she is, everything she has, in order to make her friends happy, and then she is left with nothing, and no one to lift her up. She talks about how she's always there for you, the player, and to the friends around her, even at the expense of her own happiness and well-being. It's all under the mask of sunshine that she wears, hiding her true self from the public eye, from the people around her, because the only thing worse to her than not being useful and is being a burden. In the base game, we see where this train of thought can lead when left unattended. In Plus, we see a version of Sayori that sought help, that placed her trust in the people around her, and started learning to accept their help despite the pain. Sayori's is not inherently a story that ends in sorrow, but a cautionary tale for how things can go wrong, and how things can always look up.

Yuri is often labeled as the yandere of the quartet. Obsessive, possessive, violent, etc. This is only true of Act 2, however, as Monika exacerbates her in securities for her own personal gain and progression of plot. So who is Yuri, truly? She's shy, nervous, anxious and embarressed to an extreme degree. She doesn't speak much to other people, she has a hard time meeting new people and making friends, and often would rather flee the room than process the tense energy of the moment. She's a sympathetic character, calling upon the emotion of anyone who was or is awkward, anxious, etc. She lacks a confidence in herself, and a self worth to carry her. She has a hard time dealing with tense situations or conversations, often has to take several minutes to compose herself and center her thoughts. Though it's not explicitly stated anywhere, she's very autism-coded, and sparks kinship with autistic readers as well.

In her struggles to cope with tension and anxiety, she has developed a habit of self harm. This is not just implied, but directly stated be various characters, and even elicits the concern of Natsuki towards the end of Act 2, as she seeks to help her friend. It's a habit that Yuri fell into to cope with the energy she couldn't inwardly process, and provides a painful, outward form of processing. It works, but that unfortunately just feeds her cycle that always brings her back to her habit, again and again. She laments about this in one of her poems, likening her habit to feeding a raccoon that has found it's way to your house. You feed it once, and say that's enough. But the raccoon doesn't leave; it always comes back for more. It always wants more, and who are you to deny it? It's hard to stay away for long, and she always comes back to feed the raccoon. This is a portion of her character that sadly does not get much resolution. She struggles with it in DDLC, and presumably also struggles in Plus, but it is never directly addressed as part of her development. This can be cited as a shortcoming of the writing, and also opens the doors for fans who have authored countless fanfictions that address and help Yuri with her habit, and provide her with the safety net she needs to overcome her struggles. This is not an excuse or an out for the writing to neglect her story or struggles, but rather an invitation. When threads are left loose, that is an invitation for you, or anyone, to explore it yourself and tie it off.

Everyone knows a tsundere or two, even if they don't know the trope by name. Natsuki personifies this trope in a pretty classic manner, made apparent by any interaction from the base game. She's stubborn, prideful, always better than you give her credit for, always fighting allegations of her height and cuteness, always fighting to be heard in a room full of voices, always fighting to be seen in a world of others. She's a relatable character in that sense; we're all fighting to be seen, to be heard, to be recognized, to be respected. Natsuki pursues this in a classic tsundere manner that obscured her insecurities, but doesn't make them invisible. She writes in her poems about what it's like to have "friends" that doesn't respect you and belittle you for your interests. We get to see this firsthand in the Side Stories, as well as Yuri's support for her, and general encouragement to leave them behind and find a space where she will be loved and accepted, namely the Literature Club. In some of her writing and some of her dialogue, we also get a glimpse into her home life, and why she wears this persona. It's heavily implied, though never outright stated, that Natsuki's father is abusive. The exact nature is unknown, but it is apparent that she comes from a broken home, and that it fuels her self-presentation away from home. She's familiar with paranoia, with desperation, with hunger and pain, with the longing for escape, for something to be different. She seeks this out at school in the form of her behavior; she reinvents herself to be bigger than she is, more perfect than she is, more confidant than she is. It's a shield that she puts up to deflect pry eyes and questioning minds, and to protect herself from the social pain she may experience as a result of how her life at home has broken her down. She's prickly, and hard to connect to, often needing to go at her own pace to form friendships, as evidenced by her Side Story with Sayori, Balance. Despite this, all she longs for in a true connection with someone that understands her, that cares about her and supports her no matter what. Someone she can put down her shield with, and start healing.

In Act 2 of DDLC, we see her slowly stripped more and more of her personality by Monika. Every time she steps in to assert herself, either for her own interests or for the sake of her friend Yuri, Monika blocks her, and breaks her down a little more. Each time something is taken, she becomes more and more a background fixture, seen but not heard, always present but never acknowledged. Eventually she becomes little more than a puppet for Monika to redirect the player with, ultimately mirroring her experiences and fears; she has no control, she has no worth, and she is only there for the whims of others, to be taken advantage of for the gain of other people. It's a bleak path for her, and for us to read, but the Side Stories give us a glimpse into another path; a path where she is given the space to warm up, to open up, to start connecting with the people around her. More than that, she is given the people and the place she needs to be herself, to relax, and to finally put down her shield and heal alongside the people who understand her most.

Monika is a special case. Though she is introduced in DDLC as the club president, and technically the main antagonist (if such a word could describe her), and while we do learn much about her and spend a lot of time interacting with her, I feel that her personal experiences and general personality are better represented in the Side Stories. Monika from DDLC is corrupted, a young girl granted vision far beyond what she was meant to see. In the Side Stories, we get a look at a more average Monika, one who got to be herself and live her life, no meta interference. She definitely the "popular girl" type, something of a Mary Sue in presentation, though this isn't the whole picture. She may be popular and involved, evoking confidence and grace, but she's inwardly nervous, and awkward. She's a perfectionist, always curating her public image to be the girl everyone things she is, the one everyone wants her to be. Like Sayori, she's constantly giving everything away, all that she has, for the sake of the people that rely on her. Like Yuri, she struggles with social interactions, unable to fully quell the nerves that keep her from being confidant beyond a facade. Like Natsuki, she uses that facade to lift herself higher, to fight to be heard, to be seen, to be respected and acknowledged. In that way, she is a sort of balance between the other three girls, but not necessarily in a good way. She struggles to assert her own interests, always caving to the interests of others. She struggles to truly find confidence and self worth outside of her work. She get goods grades, she's captain of teams, president of clubs, popular, beautiful, everything you'd image her to be, except she's also none of that at the same time. Her confidence is facade, her grace is practiced and performed, her joyfulness is a front for the sake of those who rely on her. When all is said and done, what's left for Monika? This is ultimately the reason she started the Literature Club, was as a way to express herself and gather around others who are passionate about the same things as her. It was finally something for her sake, for her interests, for her own growth and enjoyment. It was a way to assert her self worth.

While Monika represents a less obvious mental health focus than the others, she still represent a very real struggle that many of us have felt in our lives. The feeling of being drained, of letting your life slip away, of being sucked dry of all that you are for the sake of other people, with never a thought to you or your worth or your value. She fights this by carving out a place for herself in the world, and gathers around herself others that feel the same way. She surrounds herself with people who have struggles, yes, but also people who care, people who love and support regardless, and who will always be there for each other. That's the beauty of the Literature Club to Monika; it's a place of love.

There's a lot more I could say about this game, from the queer-coding of the four girls, to the poetry itself, and more. But, considering how much I wrote here, I may write blog posts about that all on their own. For now, I'm happy to have taken this time to reflect on this game that means so much to me, and these characters who are so near and dear to my heart. I hope you got something out of my unorganized ramblings. Ultimately, I'm happy to have experienced this game in all it's forms, and to have been an active fan for so many years.

Congrats on 8 years, Team Salvato. And congrats to all of us who have explored this game for so many years. May we have many years of love and literature ahead of us.

~ Alex Amelia Pine