I’m Healing From the Tech Layoffs by Playing Going Under

At this exact moment, I’m writing to take a break from the “throes of a job search, after an unexpected, no-fault layoff.” That’s what I say in interviews to signal that, yes, I am doing my best to fill my employment gap as soon as I can, and that this past wave of layoffs is but a temporary sidestep in my otherwise diligent attempts to return to corporate life. 

Sound familiar?

This will certainly not be the last cycle of tech layoffs, with almost 120,000 tech startup employees cut in the first three months of 2023, joining the 160,000 let go in 2022. While representing a small percentage of the US labor force, those affected by these layoffs span from recent hires to executive leaders—an unfortunate reminder that who and what is considered “essential” is at the whims of shifting business prerogatives.

And it’s not smooth sailing for those who’ve “survived.” From mandating that employees return to office to cutting HR staff, tech companies are doomsday prepping by cutting expenses and benefits in drastic ways, following pressure to perform for shareholders. 

Pressure is extremely high for those who remain, whether it’s managers at Meta asked to point fingers at the lowest performers, or one Twitter employee (who was let go in a subsequent round of layoffs) who went viral for sleeping on the floor. Current employees exist in limbo-like turmoil, struggling to meet rising expectations and fill the gaps of a downsized workforce, all while coping with industry-wide low morale.

While we can only speculate about what’s to come, I find myself looking for ways to process, escape, and heal in this moment of job searching. I find myself coming back to 2020’s Going Under, a sleeper hit and first title from Aggro Crab that is, at its core, hilarious, playable anti-capitalism. 

Available on Switch and PC, Going Under is a colorfully pixelated dungeon crawler set in a peak Silicon Valley tech startup: a fizzy drink company called Fizzle that has made a hard pivot into the meal replacement category. You play as Jackie, an unpaid marketing intern, coming into a fundamentally broken workplace, baited with the promises of internship experience and (eventual) mission-driven work. In order to fulfill her dream of having employee-sponsored health insurance, she needs to do as she is told, no questions asked. 

We quickly learn that at Fizzle, “intern work” looks a little different than getting coffee for your boss. Jackie’s first task is to kill the monsters who casually threaten to escape into the headquarters—all before that day’s company-wide stand-up meeting. 

The game delivers fighting mechanics in a style similar to Breath of the Wild, with objects you can find in an office: coffee pots, desk toys (including a Rubix cube), paper reams, bricked phones, and the literal kitchen sink. It makes for surprisingly challenging play, no matter your weapon of choice, and offers a range of office settings for you to button-mash a former employee’s head in with a stapler.

Beyond the game’s eclectic weapons, we later learn that the monsters are the ghosts of past failed startups. Each startup represents a level with its own characters and backdrops, populated with overly caffeinated and handsy bosses that “trust fall” onto you as a finishing move. From Joblin, a gig work startup similar to Fiverr or TaskRabbit, to Styxxcoin, a crypto mining startup, we get an all-too-relatable taste of a new dotcom bubble burst, a fate that is continuously teased as being dangerously close for Fizzle’s employees. 

The levels are filled with hidden gems and “inside jokes” for those familiar with the endless contradictions of corporate culture—real or gamified. It becomes a small, dark delight to explore the vestiges of startups that were indeed big enough to fail, haunted by employees who still roam the halls of their old stomping grounds.

One of the most important mechanics established early on is the ability to build relationships with your coworkers. We meet Kara, the jaded programmer who’s generally adverse to Big Tech, forewarning us of the evils that await in the game. Swomp, a barista and the token office Chad, is intent on calling you some variation of the word “babe.” We get a glimpse of the mad scientist at the innovation core of Fizzle, whose relentless pursuit of discovering the next big flavor is the only thing he thinks about. 

Throughout the game, Jackie takes on a passive role as an exploited, unhappy employee stuck doing the company-sustaining work no one has wanted to do for years, all beyond her pay grade of zero. From solving general workplace tussles to finding a solution to the startup founder’s debt troubles, Jackie, from the position of least influence, is consistently asked to do the most. 

We come to sympathize with her replaceability and the lack of value placed on her role despite the work she does—an unfortunate byproduct of the “grand scheme of things” we only have so much power to change. To add insult to injury, the few moments we do witness her outside of work are spent in her room, as she experiences nightmares of her alt-girlboss self having to slay monsters. Unpaid overtime, even in her subconscious.

As you play, you also come to sympathize with the mentors Jackie develops relationships with, coworkers all too familiar with the realities of working in a scrappy startup space. “Crunch,” for example, the mandatory overtime that everyone seems to encounter a lot in their time at Fizzle, is awful, but everyone’s decided to stay, for better or worse. More than just quirky characters, the rotating cast of mentors provides a shaky solidarity mirrored in real-world tech jobs. Her mentors name the issues they see and recognize Jackie’s experiences, but like real-world mentors, are often unable to help her directly and need help of their own. Still, everyone mostly does their best.

In combat, the mentors impart knowledge and help you unlock essential battle skills. While you start your adventure alone, you finish with everyone’s support, a testament to the power of individuals banded together in a collective (read: union?). While a bit cheesy, this aspect of the game was comforting in times that were otherwise quite unsettling and in the face of particularly challenging boss confrontations (battles and otherwise). It’s also a reminder that, even when the pipes burst, headquarters is fully underwater, and there is no outlook—let alone a positive one for Fizzle—you can always have a dance party. 

Ultimately, Going Under delivers social commentary embedded in quippy dialog and clever game mechanics. It’s funny, self-aware, and aged itself back into relevance, especially for me. I originally encountered the game just before Covid-19, having graduated as a casualty of the Covid class of 2020. The game is a sort of morbid comfort, reminding me that I’m not alone in my feelings and experiences, even though I also wish the layoffs and tech industry troubles of the past several years never had to happen.

It’s a game that speaks to the time we’re in, one of amplified social consciousness about the limitations of work. It pushes people like me, who have the privilege to choose the work we do, to consider their “value” outside of how we show up as an employee. It also reminds us of the importance of supporting our coworkers and showing up in allyship for those whose voices aren’t as readily heard. It might inspire an intern or temp to ask for that extra sick day.

The game is well worth a playthrough for those looking for a chuckle and a reminder that, no matter how bad your unpaid internship is or was, it could always be worse.

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