diagnosing Geralt from "The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt"

About three years ago, I wrote a psychological case study on Geralt. It was a psychology class project--I thought it would be fun. And my professor was thoroughly confused by it; I did get a good grade though. Based on my research (playing the game), I diagnosed Geralt: PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) and early-onset persistent depressive disorder (Dysthymia). And in my professional opinion, he needed therapy.

https://www.thewitcher.com/us/en/witcher3, Geralt riding his horse, Roach.

Funnily enough, I've already written about PTSD showing up in video games whenever I wrote about Spec Ops: The Line. And while The Witcher 3 does not have any loading/tip screens that try to make you feel really guilty about all the things you kill, Geralt himself experiences some of the same symptoms.

Jokes aside, I think Geralt is a great example of how to create a flawed main character (not that having mental illness makes you flawed... but you get what I mean), while still making him extremely powerful. Geralt becoming a witcher in the first place is what likely lead to these flaws (you have to train from childhood to be a witcher, which includes going through a bunch of super awesome and not at all harmful mutations)--hence my early-onset diagnoses. But a lot of these symptoms only rear their ugly head when Geralt comes face-to-face in protecting others, especially those he loves. His relationship to Ciri, who is essentially his adoptive daughter, puts a massive strain on Geralt's mental as he attempts to find, rescue, and protect her from the Wild Hunt.

But, this being the third game in the series, we can really see how everything Geralt has done has started slowly catching up to him. Him earning the name "Butcher of Blaviken" is an especially sore spot, with Geralt killing a bunch of bandits only for it to appear to the townspeople that he just killed a bunch of people for no reason. Geralt doesn't really eat or sleep (due in part to his mutations, but I'd like to think it's the mental illness too), and when he does sleep it's barely. In the opening of the game, he literally dreams of being with Ciri and Yennefer--but his dreams of his ideal world quickly spiral into a nightmare, where everyone he loves dies.

Not only does this serve as a captivating way to open a story, it also highlights a common symptom of PTSD: unwanted and distressing dreams and memories. Geralt's time in being a witcher echoes not only these common symptoms, but also destructive coping mechanisms. Geralt doesn't really talk about things, unless he's pressed about it by other characters or if the player chooses to talk about it for him. And even then, Geralt is very sparing in what he decides to tell others.

But, being in the position of the player, we are offered a different perspective--akin to novels with a limited narrator. We are in Geralt's head, so we know when things are wrong. We see his nightmares and his greatest fears, and we watch how he interacts with others (and most of the time we have a direct hand in it).

In a game that is so fantastical, and sometimes pretty goofy, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt actually does a pretty good job in making Geralt a realistic and complex character--and not just a flat killing machine; although, that may be the way Geralt views himself.