Warning: Spoilers for all chapters of Red Dead Redemption 1 AND 2 ahead:

When I was a kid, I read a book called There's a Monster at the End of this Book. It was about the beloved Sesame Street character, Grover. In the first pages of the book, Grover exclaims that he's afraid of getting to the end of the book. He read that there's a monster at the end, and he doesn't want you to keep reading. He begs you to stop turning pages, and tries to lock them shut with chains, build a brick wall, and nail the pages together. He's terrified by what he'll find, and he wants to live forever within the pages that are familiar, and comfortable.

That's how I felt when playing Red Dead Redemption 2 (RDR2). I know that all stories contain conflict, and that not all of Arthur Morgan's friends at camp would remain his friends until the end of the story. Some of them showed signs of betrayal, and others had always seemed untrustworthy. The game led me through heartfelt missions where kind characters, like Hosea Matthews, taught Arthur a few things about fishing, and regaled him with stories of his childhood. I went on a drunken bender with a younger NPC, Lenny Summers, singing, dancing, and partying with him until sunrise. I was genre-savvy enough to know that lots of loving time spent with a character sometimes means the author plans to yank them away from you, and reap the rewards of the pain you'll feel when someone fictional you love dies.

Chapters 2 and 3 of RDR2 take place after the first chapter of exposition and tutorials. In them, your camp is located in beautiful areas of the map. In Chapter 2, you're near a gorgeous valley, and in Chapter 3, you're situated next to a peaceful lake. None of the NPCs who are important to the player have died. The NPCs who had split off in Chapter 1 are available to bring back through quests. You can enjoy these two chapters with everyone you love at camp, no one missing (save for the NPCs the player never met), and with everyone at relative peace with one another. You can create a status quo that feels hopeful, imaginative, and full of life. Your gang leader, Dutch van der Linde, gives rousing speeches about hope, family, and always having a plan in mind.

The reality the game presents in these two chapters is idyllic. Though you and the gang still encounter the painful realities of America in 1899, you feel as if you can recover from them with a friendly fishing trip, or a joyous campfire song. You can hunt for food in solitude, visit the nearby city for some excitement, and reap the benefits of robbing the rich to give back to your impoverished gang. (Or, yourself.) If any of this was real, you and your gang would feel downtrodden, upset, and afraid. It would be reality. But, it's a video game. So you feel pleasant, excited, and warm.

You're a part of the Van der Linde Gang family, and you never want that feeling to end. You want Arthur Morgan to be happy- you want everyone to be happy. You want them to be safe. You know that there's darkness ahead, and are given a small taste of it when Arthur is captured by Colm O'Driscoll. Though you might want to see what happens next, you also want to be able to return to camp, and enjoy a campfire song with the characters you love so much. You know that it won't last forever, and you can't help but resist taking it away from them.

If you turn the page, and get closer to the monster at the end of the book, is it your fault? Did you ruin their lives? Couldn't you have just kept them in stasis forever, blissful, unaware, and happy in a save file at the beginning of Chapter 3?

When I first played RDR2, I didn't want to finish the game. I wanted to complete every quest, do every task, and finish every challenge to delay the inevitable ending. The characters in the game aren't real, and I knew that finishing the game wouldn't ruin their “lives”. But, I wanted to hold on to that hopeful, wonderful feeling that I got whenever Arthur sat down at a campfire, and enjoyed a song with his family. In times like these, I wanted things to be okay, for someone. Maybe not the real world, and maybe not me- not right away, but for Arthur. I craved that escapism.

At the end of There's a Monster at the End of this Book, Grover realizes that he was the monster all along. He realizes that there was nothing to be afraid of. He realizes that it's okay to finish stories, and they're not scary at all. I knew that when I finished RDR2, I'd be happy. I'd be pleased with the catharsis that the narrative granted me. I'd be glad to know what happened at the end of the story, and mull over what everything meant. I would finish the journey richer than when I had began. Yet, I still didn't want to finish. I just wanted to hold on to the positive emotions within Chapters 2 and 3.

In the end, I did finish the game. I was indeed happy that I had completed it. But, I still long for when things seemed perfect. Like John Marston, I still feel lodged in the past. It wasn't perfect, and I know I look back at Chapters 2 and 3 with rose-tinted lenses. That still doesn't stop me from wanting to wander there forever. Intellectually, I know it wouldn't feel nearly as precious if I didn't know it was temporary. It would feel meaningless, and empty without the knowledge that the time Arthur Morgan spent with his family was limited. Without the pressure of knowing it's only for now, I wouldn't have savored it nearly as much. It would be escapism without meaning- a lavish feast with no nutritional value. Cotton candy is delicious, but it's only sugar and air.

The epilogue chapters served to provide a type of aftercare for the player. Though you just went through a difficult journey, you can visit the graves of the NPCs who died, as well as Arthur Morgan's himself. You can look down at your own tombstone, and mourn. You can engage in the new hope that John feels when he builds his new home, with the help of Charles and Uncle. You can start anew, reborn as John Marston. Arthur has sacrificed himself for John and his family, and you can see what became of that sacrifice- you know that they're okay. You can feel relief.

The lingering phantom of Red Dead Redemption (RDR) still remains. This first installment takes place after the events of RDR2. John Marston agrees to hunt down his former gang members who had betrayed him, to protect Abigail and Jack. In the end, he dives back into the life of gunslinging- the life he said he'd leave behind. The one that made Abigail fear she might have to bury him one day. In the end, he sacrifices himself to save his family. Despite having a few happy years together, Abigail still buries her husband. And then a few years later, Jack buries her. Just as Arthur had sacrificed himself for the Marstons to have their precious moments of happiness, John does the same.

Both games present a reality where honorable people love, survive, and fight in an unforgiving world. Even though they can never seem to win a lifetime of peace, those small moments where they do find peace are worth the self-sacrifice. In order to understand why John and Arthur sacrifice themselves, you have to enjoy the moments of happiness within Chapters 2 and 3. You have to feel the warmth of the campfire, hear the laughter of their friends and family, and feel the freedom of riding through a lush valley. You have to understand that characters like Jack, Charles, Lenny, Hosea, and Tilly deserve happiness. (I believe everyone deserves grace, but these characters are my favorites.) This brief escapism is necessary to the plot of RDR2. It helps you understand how beautiful life can be, and how you might sacrifice yourself so that someone else can continue to enjoy it.

A more pessimistic person might say that these games are about how no one can ever thrive, and how things will always circle back around to being awful, in an endless cycle of pain. I believe that these games are about fighting the darkness within and without to achieve joy, however brief it may be.

That joy might be small, but it's worth fighting for.