27/06/25

Deltarune Chapter 3 - One New Character Floored Me.

Content Warning: Spoilers for Deltarune Chapter 3, mental health.

Long time, no diary entry! If you know me, you are clued into the fact that I don’t play many video games. In college, I was a big fan of Undertale. Can you believe it’s been ten years? A game where your choices matter, you meet a fantastic cast of characters and move through a world that’s been given so much depth. That same thought and care is further appreciated and expanded upon by fans. What I wouldn’t give to play Undertale for the first time again. The sheer power (determination) this game had shook the world to its core in 2015.
When Deltarune was announced and the first chapters came out, I was beyond excited. It has the same flair as Undertale but has massively polished and upgraded its graphics and game mechanics. I have so much love in my heart for Undertale, and without it, we wouldn’t have Deltarune, but something about this new game is giving me butterflies that I haven’t had in many years. Now chapters three and four are playable, I want to focus my lens on one particular character, and how their experience draws parallels with my own life. I wasn’t expecting anything, just a new world, new boss, and funny dialogue. That is not what this game has ever been about. Yes, there is an end goal, but the characters you meet and their stories stay with you.

From the moment Mr Tenna made his debut, I was transported back to my childhood of fun game-show hosts on colourful backdrops. That loud, bombastic personality, the charming absurdity, the stage lights and cheer from the audience, it all felt strangely comforting. That larger-than-life presence reminded me of when TV was an event, a shared experience. Something you chose to sit down with, intentionally, surrounded by siblings or curled up under a blanket, letting the glow of the screen wrap around you like a hug. In childhood, TV was a unifying force, the electronic hearth of the home. We’d play on the Nintendo Wii, watch Pokemon before school and rush home to play Animal Crossing. On nights I couldn’t sleep, I would sneak downstairs to fall asleep to the shopping channel. One time, we begged our stepdad, who did not allow talking or television to be on whilst eating dinner, to let us finish the last fifteen minutes of Kiki’s Delivery Service despite dinner being served at the table. My youngest sister had a CRT in her bedroom, and as it was wall mounted I was responsible for rewinding the tapes (she was too small to reach). I have watched Beauty and The Beast, Help! I’m a Fish, and Don Bluth’s Thumbelina countless times.
With Tenna, the part of him that hosts, entertains, invites you in with open arms and says, “It’s TV Time!” reminded me of what media once meant to me: a comfort object, a window into joy, something I shared with my siblings.

At first, I just thought Mr Tenna was funny. A break from tension. But the longer I spent in his world, the more I realised: there was something sad underneath the sparkle. The way Tenna clung to the spotlight. The way he didn’t want the show to end (Part of his scheme was to distract Susie, Kris and Ralsei, but he needed to feel “fun” and wanted). That hit deep. I know what it’s like to fear abandonment so much that you start to perform. You smile bigger. You talk louder. You try to make yourself entertaining, so people want to stay with you. Even if it means dumbing yourself down.
For a portion of my life between the ages of 13 and 20 (maybe even younger or older), I would isolate myself a lot as an unhealthy coping mechanism, but I missed that feeling of being wanted. The former gifted kid. I dulled my shine, so in my adult years I put on a brave face, attempt to blend in, and act overly jovial. I’m the hype friend, the positive energy beam and comedic pratfall, sometimes coming across as immature. You want to be wanted, loved and held without feeling like a burden. I often think that asking to be held or for words of affirmation is babyish (not for anyone else to ask, just me), acting “too much” because I’ve shaved years off my life being “too little”. The switch is flipped after this. Sometimes, I go quiet for days, needing to recover, to be alone and recharge. I’m more reserved, take time and enjoy intellectually stimulating conversation in a relaxed environment. With me, there is not a middleground. Seeing Tenna beg for people to say they love him, and stating that he isn’t irrelevant hit like a gut punch.

I saw a Deltarune comic of Mr Tenna comforting Kris while his parents were arguing. It made me cry. Something cracked open. Suddenly I was sixteen again, back in my mom’s house visiting my sisters. Our mom and stepdad were splitting up at the time. My twin stood between them as a barrier. The youngest of my sisters was terribly shaken. She was small, and seemed even smaller at that moment. Fragile, her face red from crying. I had to be Tenna then, a fun, large and soft presence. I remember holding her shoulders gently and in a calm but excitable tone saying, “let’s go and watch some television together”. She wouldn’t let me hold her, we were both scared at that moment. She pushed me away, flinching when I moved, shaking, her eyes fixated on the screen. The volume button pressed up in slow increments to drown out the surrounding noise.

Shortly after I moved in with my dad, I stopped watching television.
It was used sparingly back in college when my sister came to visit, or when a friend wanted to play Mario Kart.

People must think this action is a form of snobbery. When I mention I don’t watch TV, I think nothing of it. I can’t help but wonder what the people are thinking, “Oh, he doesn’t watch TV, does he think he’s better than us, only resorting to books like an intellectual?” When in therapy as a teenager, my counsellor advised against watching the news. I wasn’t watching regardless. When people scroll their phone whilst watching a series or movie, it irks me. Especially when they say, "Oh, I've been watching this series, I'm alost done" For me, TV, especially the CRT with a VCR, was locked away close to my heart. I’ve since realised: I don’t watch much TV these days not because I don’t enjoy it, but because the memories are sacred. Watching casually feels like breaking a spell. I thought of the times my sisters giggled at cartoon shows, or sadly surrounded the screen with my mom, sobbing loudly about Robin Williams and Michael Jackson as news broke. More positively, a time we bunched together in our Christmas Eve pyjamas watching Home Alone, munching popcorn and flicking through the seasonal TV Guide.

Tenna couldn’t let go of the past. His fear twisted into control, yet I didn’t feel angry. I felt understood. It was like looking at a version of myself that never learned to soften. Never learned to say goodbye. Mr Ant Tenna, in his panic, became what many adults become when they’re scared: desperate, rigid, unable to let go of what once made them feel safe. That… broke my heart a little.
This character, an overly attached, towering TV man, made me feel seen in a way I wasn’t expecting. He helped me understand that memory and media are connected in ways that go far beyond nostalgia. That sometimes, what looks silly on the surface is actually holding something tender and real.

Mr Tenna made me want to reclaim that old warmth. To set up my own cozy corner with a real old TV (currently lookint to buy a CRT), watch VHS rips of Bob Ross or Mr. Rogers, and remind myself that there’s still comfort to be found in the nostalgic look of a CRT screen. He inspired me to make a whole self-care system built around slow, analog routines. The Weather Channel is my daily mood check in using pictures to stick to a chart that looks like the weather report. The Sports channel rewards me for small goals using bronze, silver and gold medals respectively. Currently, they are digital worksheets, but can be crafted into tangible physical media, energy permitting.

I don’t think I’ll ever look at a TV the same way again. And maybe that’s the point. I may never replay Undertale for the first time again, but thanks to Tenna I’ve found a new screen to step through. One that broadcasts comfort in real time.