101
Parker and Anna Rivina of Nasiliu.net
(its name, which is the same as its URL,
translates to “no to violence”), another
non profit working on domestic vio-
lence. The name Game 116 comes from
Article 116 of the Russian criminal code,
which defines battery as causing “pain”
but not resulting in physical damage.
The project was personal for many in-
volved. The actor who portrays Nastya
had left an abusive partner shortly be-
fore production began, while Sophya
Katulska, a director at Room 485, who
wrote the script, based it on her own ex-
perience in an abusive relationship. By
forcing users to choose how Nastya re-
acts throughout the scenario and show-
ing the outcome, Katulska says she wants
to do away with the idea that “correct”
behavior can stop abuse in a relationship.
That message is clear. No matter
what Nastya does—crying, screaming
for help, fighting back or apologizing—
she cannot placate Kirill. He suffocatesher with a pillow, strangles her or walks
away, leaving Nastya to live in fear of his
next outburst.
A fifth of all Russian women have
been physically abused by a partner,
and an estimated 14,000 women in the
country die as a result of domestic vio-
lence each year—more than nine times
the number of deaths in the U.S., though
Russia’s population is less than half the
size. At least 155 countries have passed
laws criminalizing domestic violence.
But in Russia, there is no such law; the
government has even made it easier for
domestic violence to go unpunished. In
2017, its parliament passed a law mak-
ing any domestic violence that does not
cause “significant injury”— defined as
requiring hospital treatment—an admin-
istrative rather than criminal offense.
First-time offenders can walk away with
fines as low as 5,000 rubles ($88).
Since the fall of the Soviet Union in
1991, Russia’s government has failed to
pass more than 40 draft laws to protect
victims of violence at home. The dearth
of legislation not only allows abusers to
go unpunished but also leaves women
without access to legal protection. Po-
lice often refuse to respond to or investi-
gate cases, typically dismissing violence
at home as a private matter. “Call me
when he kills you” was how one police
officer responded to a woman’s call for
help, says Yulia Gorbunova, a researcher
at Human Rights Watch, who has inter-
viewed domestic- violence victims across
Russia. In the spring, the government
postponed discussion about the latest
draft law on domestic violence until after
the pandemic. “It would have been a per-
fect time to do it,” she says.
ANNA coordinates efforts by 150
groups across Russia and the former
Soviet states, and Nasiliu.net offers free
legal and psychological help to victims
of abuse. But they face increasing hos-
tility from the Kremlin and the Russian
Orthodox Church, which has enjoyed a
staggering rise in influence during Pres-
ident Vladimir Putin’s years in power.
There was fierce backlash to a 2019 bill
that would have introduced restraining
orders—a first in Russia—and harsher
punishments for first-time offenders,
including short jail sentences instead of
just fines. More than 180 Russian Ortho-
dox and conservative groups signed anNANNA HEITMANN—MAGNUM PHOTOS FOR TIME