The Hiddern Patterns in How We Relate
Reflections on Eric Berne’s Games People Play
I came across Games People Play during an open day at Metanoia, one of the UK’s leading psychotherapy training institutes. I was there to see if I could actually imagine myself becoming a therapist, explore the different courses available, and see what the people are like. This book is a piece of mandatory reading for all their first-year students, and it immediately caught my eye.
The title Games People Play reminded me of something I’ve felt for years but never really had the words for. I used to call it social anxiety. Or a trauma response. Or maybe just being awkward. But I’ve always had this feeling that people rarely say what they actually mean. I’d walk away from conversations thinking: Why did they respond like that? And why did I say that? Were we really having a good time?
So when I saw this book, I thought: okay. Let’s find out what all of that was about. Maybe I’m not just overthinking everything. Or maybe I am, but at least now I’ll have theories to justify it.
Eric Berne (1910-1970), the author, was the founder of Transactional Analysis (TA), a type of psychotherapy that looks at how we communicate with people.
According to TA, the way we respond to people, and the roles we tend to play in relationships, are shaped by deep beliefs we hold about ourselves, many of which were formed in childhood.
We’re usually not aware of these beliefs. Unless you’ve spent years journalling, been in therapy, or had a painfully honest friend call you out.
The Three Ego States
TA rests on the idea that we interact with others from three ego states: the Parent, Adult, and Child.
The Parent in you reflects the voices of your own parents. It can show up as the Nurturing Parent (soothing, reassuring — like when you comfort a heartbroken friend) or the Critical Parent (judgy, moralising — like when you say “everyone’s so fake these days ” or “you cannot believe what Cassandra did today” (if your name happens to be Cassandra, I promise this is coincidental). Basically, it’s not always bad, but it’s usually reactive and borrowed from your past.
The Adult is rational and grounded. It looks at the facts, weighs options, and responds instead of reacting. It’s the part of us that makes decisions and handles conflict based on the here and now, not our emotional baggage.
The Child is the part of us that feels and reacts according to how we experienced the world as kids. It can be Free Child (unfiltered, playful— frolicking on a beach or going on a spontaneous night out) or Adapted Child (people-pleasing, self-sabotaging, or the voice that says “why can’t I just be normal”). It holds our creativity, joy, and wounds altogether.
Ideally, we move fluidly between these states, but Berne suggests we should aim to spend most of our time in the Adult, where we’re able to stay emotionally regulated, and have real, constructive conversations.
In TA, a “transaction” is just any interaction between two people. It works best when both people are in matching ego states, like Adult to Adult. But when they clash (say, one person’s playful Child meets a critical Parent), things can get messy fast.
What Are “Games”?
Berne defines games as unconscious patterns of interaction that come with a hidden emotional payoff. We play them to protect ourselves, to stay in control, or to replay roles we learned as kids.
Games aren’t fun, but they’re often socially acceptable. However, they prevent real intimacy, because they’re rooted in roles, not real connection.
Instead these games can leave us feeling misunderstood, disconnected, or stuck. A game might look like a petty argument, a passive-aggressive comment, or a classic “I’m fine”. Underneath, there’s usually a script we’re unknowingly acting out.
Berne says that many of us aren't aware we're playing games until we start to notice the patterns.
Games That Stuck With Me
Berne talks about common games we play in our lives, and explains what’s actually happening psychologically. Some of these games felt very familiar, and here are a few that stood out:
“Why Don’t You – Yes But”
Someone asks for advice, but shoots down every suggestion. I’ve played both roles. When I was the one asking, I wasn’t actually ready to change. I just wanted someone to understand how stuck I felt. When I was the one giving advice, I ended up not knowing what to say, and feeling lowkey annoyed because that person felt like an “ask-hole” (n. someone who keeps asking for advice but conveniently ignores every suggestion).
“Now I’ve Got You, You Son of a Bitch”
Okay, first of all, LOL what a name. This is when someone lies in wait for you to slip up, so they can finally release all their built-up resentment.
I’ve (no shame… but kind of ashamed) done this myself. Times when my expectations weren’t met, but I didn’t know how to express my needs directly, so instead, I stored it up. And when the other person finally did something “wrong,” boom. It all came out, wildly disproportionate to what actually happened.
“If It Weren’t for You”
This one stung. It reminded me of all the times I blamed other people for my lack of progress, when really, it was me getting in my own way.
I told myself I didn’t pursue psychology at university because my parents didn’t let me. But the truth? I was scared. I read that the job market was oversaturated and used their disapproval as an excuse. I said I was too busy with work to start my Substack, but still somehow found the time for hours of doomscrolling or watching movies that I wasn’t even into.
It’s easier to say “If it weren’t for XXX” than to admit we’re afraid to try. But really, we are the only ones holding us back.
“Harried”
This one broke my heart because it reminded me of my mum. She often takes on everything, burns herself out, and then gets upset that no one helped her… but in the moment, she won’t let anyone help.
I used to blame her for this growing up because it felt like nothing I did was enough. But Berne describes this as a game about wanting to feel needed, or simply a familiar way of living. I’ve come to realise she probably never learned how to ask for, or receive, help, because she had to do everything on her own as a child.
How I Felt About the Book
My overall impression of the book is mixed. Berne writes concisely and humourously, and honestly he seems like a pretty interesting guy. I liked that he didn’t fit people into boxes, instead he suggests that we all play games, and these “games” are simply patterns we can fall into.
There’s something comforting about being able to name these patterns. It makes miscommunication and conflict feel more ordinary, which makes them much less daunting to deal with.
However, Berne’s 1960s worldview definitely shows. His views on gender and sexuality are … let’s say, questionable. I can understand the historical context, but some parts were genuinely jarring.
I felt uncomfortable reading the section on sexual games, especially “The Stocking Game” and “Uproar,” which seemed to suggest that women’s discomfort or boundaries are part of a “game”, basically implying she’s somehow “asking for it”.
You can read it yourself and see what you make of it; maybe I’m missing something. I can’t confirm whether the dynamics hold any psychological truth, but it’s hard to ignore that a man is making sweeping claims about women’s motives.
He also throws around references to mental illness and ethnicity that definitely don’t hold up today. At one point, he described Chinese people as being super self-aware and spending minutes bowing to greet someone. As a Chinese person, honestly, it was kinda funny.
Another thing I questioned was his idea of the antithesis, a strategy where someone stops a game by not playing along. It’s a compelling idea. But in real life, can we really interrupt a pattern that easily? Especially when the other person might not even be aware they’re playing it? What if not playing the game doesn’t lead to growth, but only confusion, hurt, or resentment?
Still, I think there’s value in naming the pattern. Because once we’re aware of it, we have a choice. And that alone can be powerful.
Final Thoughts
Despite being a product of its time, I still recommend giving this book a read. I learned a lot from it, and there are plenty more “games” Berne described that I haven’t mentioned here. I get the sense this is the kind of book that reveals more the longer you sit with it or as life unfolds. I love when a book leaves you thinking long after it’s done.
I really appreciated how Berne concluded this book. He writes that to be aware is to be alive. A person who’s aware can step outside the roles they were handed in childhood and begin choosing who they want to be, ultimately interacting with others more freely and honestly.
And for me, that’s what healing is about: becoming conscious of the stories we’re living, and slowly, bravely rewriting them.
As someone curious about psychotherapy, this book gave me a glimpse into the interesting mind of Eric Berne and what transactional analysis is about. But as someone just trying to live more truthfully, it helped me see how easily we slip into roles, and how powerful it can be to step out of them.
If you’ve ever found yourself meeting the same kinds of people, having the same arguments, or feeling stuck in your relationships, this book might help you reflect on how your own patterns may be part of the cycle.
Because, as Berne might say, there’s no point in a “See What You Made Me Do”. We can’t control how others act, only how we respond. And that’s where real change begins.