About two and half years ago, a friend’s then 10 year-old son introduced me to the hugely popular Fortnite: Battle Royale. For the uninitiated, this is an online video game in which 100 players (solo or in groups of up to four) compete to be the last-person standing and then invariably do a little dance. Unlike many other video games which involve annihilating your opponents, Fortnite is gore-free (a blessing for me) and relies as much on strategy (hiding in my case) and quick thinking (which weapons should you pick up and what else should you carry) as how quick you are to shoot and how good (or in my case how bad) your aim is. I like to think of it more like paint-balling given we all come back to life again after sitting out the rest of the match once we have been hit enough times.

I now spend much of my free time playing this game and although I will never compete with the bouncing, fast-building, super-shooters (who are all much younger than me and predominantly male), I do manage to win or come very close fairly often these days (small brag). Importantly for me, dressing up is also a key feature of the game, building your own wardrobe of ‘skins’ or outfits as I prefer to call them is a great source of entertainment (my favourite ‘Glumbunny’ with a ‘Loser Fruit’ backpack features above). It won’t surprise you to learn that my favourites are all pink and glittery or with a bear theme.

When I first started the game, it filled me with terror equivalent to what I would expect to feel if I was being hunted down in real life by 99 people wielding machine guns and swords (thankfully not something I have ever encountered). This was not Mario Kart. As the storm closed in (trying to avoid the storm is an added element to make gameplay more intense as the match develops) and I fumbled for bandages, my panic was real and my terror was debilitating. My teammates in those early days despaired of my inability to do more than one thing at once and my frantic pleas for mid-game resuscitation (reviving your team is also a thing) drove them nuts. In summary, I was taking it all far too seriously and it was impacting my performance. Thinking that this game might not be for me and getting ready to retreat to the kawaii safety of my Animal Crossing island, I searched the interweb (sic) for guidance.

I found an article a little like this one and it all made sense. Being afraid to die in the game was holding me back, felt deeply unpleasant and it was stopping me from learning and making it all incredibly stressful (and not just for me). As soon as I stopped worrying about dying, I started to perform better, learn more quickly and it all became much more fun. It gave me the freedom to try different things, to bravely amble into groups of players and take a few shots and to learn new techniques – getting out of the way when nearly dead being a crucial one.

For most of you who aren’t gamers this might seem irrelevant but I don’t think it is. I spend more time worrying about when or how I might die in real life than I do in the game and it really is about time I stopped. It’s exhausting. Thinking about this the other day, this connection clicked and so now I share this with you. Worrying about what might happen to you next or how long you are on this Earth for will only serve to waste the time you are here and more importantly, the worry is stopping you (me) from taking risks, from trying new things and making the most of what you are capable of.

So let’s take a tip from the gamers. Stop worrying about dying and if you make a misstep, brush yourself off, have a rethink and try again (swearing optional). There will always be a friend around to help bring you back to life. However long you end up playing for, you’ll have a lot more fun along the way.

And if you want to join me in my hazardous fantasy land, my Fortnite handle is @thewonderfox .

Oh and it’s here. It was a banger to be fair.