I've always felt a strong connection to Link from the Legend of Zelda series. He's not your typical hero who's overflowing with charisma or outspoken bravado, and I vibe with that because I'm also more on the quiet side. Link proves action often speaks louder than words; his determination and courage to keep going, especially when things get tough, really resonate with me. We share a kind of stubborn resilience, tackling obstacles not because they're easy, but because they're necessary. Link's adventures, much like personal challenges, are about growth and finding inner strength, elements that I've seen play out in my own life, too. So whenever things get chaotic, I remind myself to stay the course and keep pushing forward, just like Link would. This mentality has been a game changer, not just in games, but in real life as well.
I identify most with Mario from the Super Mario series—resilient, adaptable, and always ready to tackle new challenges. Like Mario, I face obstacles head-on, whether it's navigating the fast-paced world of PR or evolving business landscapes. Mario's ability to keep moving forward, learn new skills, and work as part of a team mirrors how I approach problem-solving and leadership. Plus, his optimism and persistence are qualities I strive to embody daily. I'm David Quintero, CEO of NewswireJet. Embracing a can-do spirit like Mario helps me lead with energy and keep pushing toward growth—no matter what's next.
I identify most with Aloy from *Horizon Zero Dawn*. Like her, I've had to challenge established systems that weren't working for the people who needed them most. When I experienced severe pregnancy sickness (HG) while working as an NHS Clinical Psychologist, I felt like an outsider trying to maintain my identity in a system that couldn't accommodate my reality. That experience of being on the margins while fighting to stay productive mirrors Aloy's journey of being cast out but refusing to give up her mission. Aloy finds that the "ancient wisdom" everyone relied on was actually flawed, which resonates with my work challenging traditional workplace mental health approaches. After seeing 25% of employees consider leaving during early parenthood despite all the standard wellness initiatives, I realized we needed evidence-based solutions, not just "lunchtime yoga classes." Both Aloy and I use resourcefulness born from adversity. My personal struggle with maintaining professional identity during pregnancy complications became the foundation for Know Your Mind Consulting. We now help retain talented parents who might otherwise leave their careers, turning my own challenge into solutions for others facing similar battles.
I identify with Kratos from God of War, specifically his evolution from the original trilogy to the newer games. Like him, I've had to learn how to balance raw determination with wisdom gained through generational responsibility. In the early games, Kratos was all rage and brute force - reminds me of my younger days when I thought every plumbing problem just needed more muscle and longer hours. When we had a major sewer backup at a commercial property in Riverside, I worked 18 straight hours refusing help, nearly burning out my entire crew. The newer Kratos teaches his son while still being the warrior - that's exactly where I am now with my brother Andrew and our technicians. Last month, instead of just fixing a customer's recurring water heater issues myself, I walked our newest guy through the whole diagnosis process. He caught a gas line issue I initially missed because he had fresh eyes. What connects us most is understanding that legacy isn't just about being the strongest in the room. When Kratos tells Atreus "we must be better," that's literally our company motto translated into plumber speak. Every job we complete has to set the standard higher than what our dad's generation established, while still honoring those foundational skills they taught us.
I identify most with Katara from Avatar: The Last Binh because she's constantly balancing being the caregiver with her own need for healing. As someone who founded Full Vida Therapy while specializing in trauma work, I see myself in how she takes care of everyone else while carrying her own unprocessed grief. The similarity that hits deepest is how Katara sometimes loses herself in the helper role. In my practice, I work with so many clients who've spent years taking care of others—especially the mothers and women I see—that they've completely disconnected from their own identity and needs. What really resonates is Katara's relationship with anger and how she struggles to express it appropriately. Through my EMDR work with trauma clients, I see this pattern constantly where people suppress their anger because they've been told it's "not okay" to feel it, especially women from certain cultural backgrounds. Like Katara, I've had to learn that being strong doesn't mean never needing support. The moment I realized I needed my own therapy while helping others was when I truly understood what I tell my clients about self-care not being selfish—it's essential for sustainable healing.
I identify most with Nathan Drake from the Uncharted series because he's constantly switching between wildly different roles and environments, just like my career path. One day I'm on a film set directing and acting, the next I'm helping customers solve complex two-way radio communication challenges as VP of Land O' Radios. Drake thrives on problem-solving under pressure, which mirrors my daily experience perfectly. When a construction company calls needing emergency radio solutions for a job site, I draw from my entertainment background to quickly understand their unique communication needs and find creative solutions. My ten years at Advanced Radio Systems taught me that every customer has a different "treasure map" to decode. What really connects us is the storytelling aspect - Drake pieces together historical puzzles while I help businesses piece together their communication strategies. Whether it's explaining why a two-way radio needs FCC licensing versus a simple walkie-talkie for family camping trips, I'm constantly translating complex technical information into stories people can understand and act on. The character's optimism despite constant challenges resonates deeply with my mission to be a positive force in the world. Drake never gives up on finding solutions, and neither do I when helping customers choose between short-range walkie-talkies and professional-grade radios with GPS tracking and encryption features.
I'd say Joel from The Last of Us. He's not perfect—far from it—but he shows up, adapts, and protects what matters. There's a weight to how he moves through the world, shaped by loss and loyalty. I relate to that sense of doing the hard thing because no one else will.
Cloud Strife from Final Fantasy VII resonates deeply due to his sense of duty, quiet resilience, and internal conflict. He carries the weight of expectation while staying focused on the mission, even when uncertain about his place in it. His blend of stoicism, skepticism, and loyalty mirrors the balance many try to strike—showing up for others while managing inner doubt. It's not about perfection, but persistence.
Probably Lee Everett from The Walking Dead. He's flawed but tries to do right, even when the path isn't clear. He takes responsibility for someone else's future while carrying the weight of his past. That mix of protection, regret, and quiet strength hits close to home.
The game character I weirdly identify with the most? Kirby. Yep—pink, round, adorable Kirby. On the surface, it seems like an odd match. But hear me out. Kirby's superpower is adaptability. He doesn't brute-force his way through most challenges—he absorbs the abilities of others, learns fast, and shapeshifts depending on what the situation calls for. He's not the strongest, or the fastest, or the flashiest. But he's relentlessly versatile. That's exactly how I've survived and thrived in the startup world. I didn't come from a traditional founder background. I had to learn marketing by studying direct-response ads late into the night. I taught myself software development by reverse engineering websites. I picked up sales, brand building, design—you name it—by watching, mimicking, and iterating. Just like Kirby, I've built my edge by "swallowing" the skills I needed, not the ones I already had. And weirdly, Kirby has this kind of quiet optimism. He doesn't talk, but he's always moving forward, smiling through the chaos, floating over the obstacles. That's been a lesson too—especially in those moments when nothing's working and you just have to keep bouncing, absorbing, and trying again. My advice? You don't need to be the best at everything. You just need to be brave enough to copy, learn fast, and keep going. Channel your inner Kirby.
I identify most with Clementine from *The Walking Dead* game series. After 37 years in psychology working with clients aged 3-103, I've learned that survival isn't just about making it through—it's about adapting while keeping your core values intact. Like Clementine, I've had to steer constantly changing environments throughout my career. I've worked everywhere from psychiatric units to nursing homes, always having to quickly read each new situation and adjust my approach. When I finded EMDR and Progressive Counting after feeling dissatisfied with traditional methods, it reminded me of how Clementine learns new survival skills while never losing her compassion. What resonates most is how Clementine becomes a guide for others who are struggling. My intensive trauma retreats work the same way—I'm walking alongside clients through their darkest experiences over 8-hour days, helping them steer through trauma chronologically. Both of us learned that sometimes you have to go through the dangerous territory to reach safety on the other side. The strategic decision-making aspect connects deeply too. In my ketamine-assisted therapy work, I'm constantly assessing when to push forward and when to pause, just like Clementine evaluates threats and opportunities. Every clinical decision requires reading the immediate situation while keeping the long-term healing goal in focus.
I identify most with Ellie from The Last of Us because of her resilience, emotional depth, and fierce loyalty to those she cares about. Like Ellie, I value independence and adaptability navigating tough situations with limited resources and learning on the fly. She's curious, witty, and often uses humor to cope with trauma, which I can relate to on a personal level. Ellie also constantly questions the world around her and seeks meaning despite chaos something I find myself doing both creatively and in business. Her journey of growth, grief, and identity speaks to anyone who's ever had to rebuild after loss or make difficult decisions for the greater good. Her strength lies in her vulnerability, which is why she resonates so deeply with me.
If you ask which game character fits me best, I am definitely channeling Lara Croft from Tomb Raider. Lara is always solving puzzles under pressure, switching gears in real time, and honestly, she is not afraid to jump into uncharted territory. She thrives in the unknown, keeps learning on the fly, and somehow brings her team through every wild challenge intact. That is daily life for anyone who builds a business from zero, navigates healthcare red tape, and then turns around to teach the next generation of injectors. Like her, I do not wait for things to calm down or feel easy. I set my sights, take calculated risks, and keep moving no matter what gets thrown my way.
I connect deeply with Maya from Life is Strange because of her struggle with perfectionism and carrying everyone else's emotional weight. As someone who works with families, couples, and individuals dealing with anxiety and depression, I see myself in her tendency to absorb others' problems while neglecting her own needs. What really hits home is Maya's people-pleasing behavior masking deeper anxiety about not being "enough." In my practice across inpatient psychiatric units and residential treatment, I've worked with countless clients who present this exact pattern. They come in exhausted from managing everyone else's emotions while their own mental health deteriorates. The character's journey toward setting boundaries resonates with my own growth as a therapist. Early in my career, I'd take on too much emotional responsibility for my clients' progress. Learning to maintain professional boundaries while staying empathetic became crucial - just like Maya had to learn she couldn't fix everyone. Maya's realization that vulnerability actually strengthens relationships mirrors what I teach clients about emotional regulation. When we stop pretending everything's perfect and start sharing our authentic struggles, that's when real healing begins. It's why my client-centered approach focuses on helping people drop their masks and connect with their genuine strengths.
I identify most with Yoshi from the Mario series - always carrying someone else while navigating endless obstacles. As a parent therapist, I see this dynamic constantly: parents literally and figuratively carrying their children through life's challenges while managing their own emotional terrain. Like Yoshi, I've learned that sometimes you have to let go temporarily to make the bigger jumps. In my practice, I work with parents who've been "carrying" their kids through every tantrum, every bedtime struggle, every emotional meltdown until they're completely burned out. One client told me she felt like Yoshi getting thrown into a pit - utterly disposable after giving everything. The similarity that hits deepest is how Yoshi gets very little recognition despite doing the heavy lifting. During my own early parenthood with sleep deprivation and feeding struggles, I felt invisible while everyone praised how "well" my baby was doing. Now I help parents recognize that setting boundaries isn't abandoning your "rider" - it's teaching them to steer their own power-ups. What I've learned through both my personal journey and working with overwhelmed parents is that you can't be someone else's vehicle forever. Sometimes the most loving thing is teaching them to make their own jumps, even if it means they might fall a few times.
I identify most with Isabelle from Animal Crossing, and it's probably not what you'd expect for a therapist dealing with heavy topics like grief and postpartum depression. She's constantly juggling a million tasks while maintaining this genuine care for everyone around her - that's basically my daily life with two young boys, two rescue dogs (Buster and Pickles), and a full caseload of clients. What really resonates is how Isabelle creates this safe, welcoming space where people can just exist as they are. In my practice, I've learned that sometimes the most healing thing I can offer isn't a complex intervention - it's just showing up authentically and letting clients know they're not alone in whatever chaos they're experiencing. The multitasking aspect hits hard too. Isabelle somehow manages town events, paperwork, and personal crises all while keeping her door open for anyone who needs help. Last week I had a client in crisis while simultaneously coordinating my son's school pickup and fielding calls about my dogs' vet appointments - classic Isabelle energy. She never pretends to have it all figured out, which is exactly how I approach therapy. I tell my clients about my own messy moments because healing happens in real relationships, not perfect ones.
I identify most with Joy from Inside Out because she's constantly trying to keep everything positive while learning that other emotions deserve space too. Early in my career at Courage Worldwide working with sex-trafficked girls, I thought my job was to help them "get back to happy" as quickly as possible. What changed everything was realizing Joy's biggest lesson—that Sadness, Fear, and even Anger serve crucial protective purposes. When I use Inside Out characters in therapy with kids and teens, I see myself in Joy's journey of learning to step back and let other emotions lead when needed. My own "Joy part" had to learn that rushing clients toward healing actually slowed their progress. The character's evolution mirrors my therapeutic approach perfectly. Joy starts by trying to control the emotional dashboard, but grows into understanding that authentic healing happens when all parts are heard. When I guide children to ask "What does your Anger want to say to your Joy right now?" I'm essentially doing what Joy learned—creating space for dialogue between different emotional needs rather than pushing for one dominant feeling.
I identify most with Senua from Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice because of her journey through intense internal landscapes while maintaining her determination to heal. Like Senua, I've learned that our deepest wounds often become our greatest sources of strength and insight. Senua hears voices that torment her, much like how my perfectionist clients describe their inner critic - that relentless voice saying "you're never good enough." In my 10 years of practice, I've noticed that high achievers often have this same internal battle playing on repeat. They look successful externally while fighting exhausting mental battles internally. What resonates most is how Senua doesn't try to silence her voices completely but learns to coexist with them differently. This mirrors my therapeutic approach perfectly - I don't help clients eliminate their perfectionism entirely, but rather transform their relationship with it. One client told me our work helped her change her inner voice from "I'm failing" to "I'm learning." Senua's willingness to venture into dark, uncomfortable places to find healing reflects exactly what I encourage in therapy. True change happens when we're brave enough to explore those messy, painful parts of ourselves that we'd rather avoid.
I identify most with Senua from Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice. She's a warrior dealing with severe mental health struggles while trying to save someone she loves, and her journey resonates deeply with my work treating clients with OCD, eating disorders, and trauma. What strikes me about Senua is how she doesn't let her mental health challenges define her—she learns to coexist with them while still pursuing her goals. This mirrors what I see with my clients, especially those with OCD. One of my clients, Carleigh, went from dropping out of law school and living on suicide watch to thriving in her career and having her own apartment. She still has OCD, but now she uses it as a strength—her workspace is impeccably organized and her boss loves her attention to detail. Senua's story also shows how isolation makes mental health struggles worse, while connection and understanding help healing. This is why I co-founded Eating Disorder Academy—families need tools and knowledge to support recovery effectively. Too many of my clients have worked with therapists who worsened their symptoms because they lacked specialized training. The game doesn't sugarcoat the reality of living with mental health challenges, but it shows that recovery isn't about eliminating symptoms—it's about building a life where they don't control you. That's exactly what I help my clients at Houston Ballet and other high-performers achieve every day.
I identify with Ellie from The Last of Us, especially her struggle with survivor's guilt and finding purpose after trauma. Like her, I've had to learn that my past pain—including my own experiences with sexual abuse and toxic relationships—doesn't disqualify me from helping others; it actually becomes my superpower. Ellie carries this weight of feeling responsible for things beyond her control, which mirrors what I see in my own healing journey and with my clients daily. Through EMDR therapy, I learned to process those "what if I had done something different" thoughts that used to consume me during panic attacks. Now I teach my clients that same bilateral stimulation technique to build their own "Safe Calm Place" in their minds. What I love about Ellie's character is how she transforms her trauma into fierce protection for others. That's exactly what happened when I started True Mind Therapy—my personal hell became my professional calling. When I work with sexual trauma survivors, they often tell me they finally feel understood because I've walked that same dark path. The game shows how healing isn't linear, and neither is real recovery. Some days Ellie struggles, some days she's unstoppable. I tell my clients this all the time: you don't heal once and stay fixed forever. You build resilience tools and learn to trust yourself again, one day at a time.