Balancing my love for gaming with the rest of my life
Every time I think about video games, I find myself immersed in fond memories from my teenage years.
I remember waking up an hour earlier than I had to, just so I could sneak into the living room to play Command & Conquer. I only had access to a demo version, but this didnāt matter to me. I just played the same mission again and again. And then there was the added thrill of not actually being allowed to play āsuch a violent gameā, which meant I had to split my attention between playing and listening carefully to any sound coming from my parentās bedroom.
Later, I became obsessed with Age of Empires 2. That was a game my parents approved of (it looked less dark, but it wasnāt really any less violent). At one point I accidentally found a present they were planning to give me: a detailed strategy book for the game. Since I couldnāt wait to read it, I removed the shrink-wrap as carefully as possible, hoping that my efforts wouldnāt be noticed and that I could fake surprise later. Oh, what a fool I was.
It didnāt take long before I joined my first LAN parties on weekends. In a small circle of friends, we would play all sorts of games, but most prominently Quake 3 Arena, Unreal Tournament and Counter Strike (so much for playing non-violent games). Of course, linking up our computers in the same room required getting them there ā a non-trivial task given their enormous size and weight at the time. I think we solved the problem elegantly by placing them on our skateboards and pushing them through the streets. Once arrived, we began playing obsessively, usually past sunrise. When our drowsiness had caught up with us, we squeezed in a few hours of sleep, before repeating it all for another night (Iām still amazed our parents tolerated these parties, because more than once our excited shouts woke them up in the middle of the night.)
Eventually, we got faster internet at home. From that moment on, playing with others had become effortless. No longer did I have to push my computer through town, set it up, and convince my friends to play the games I loved. Instead, I just started my favorite games from the comfort of my room and then got connected to people from all over the world. With some of them, I formed teams, clans, and alliances. And together, we would compete with others in intense two-versus-two or three-versus-three matches. Every day, right after school, I logged into Teamspeak, chatted with my peers for a bit, and then played match after match after match.
Memories like these bring back all the wonder, the joy and the excitement I felt at the time. They also remind me of what drew me in: being able to explore unknown worlds, to overcome interesting challenges, and to build meaningful relationships. Video games were, and still are, magical to me.
And yet, these memories also bring back an entirely different feeling: the regret I started to feel every time I stopped playing.
You see, for most of my teenage years, I fully enjoyed playing video games.
But at some point, I had made an observation: I always chose to play, even though there were other activities I loved, like reading, writing, or coding. It occurred to me that every one of my spare minutes went into gaming. And this happened so many days in a row that gaming completely crowded out all those other activities. I didnāt like that at all.
So I resolved to play less often, but still found myself playing all the time. I set strict time limits, but kept blowing past them. I declared certain days to be free of gaming, but made an exception on every one of them.
The temptation was just too strong. It was so easy to get started, so much fun to keep playing, and so hard to stop.
I felt like an addict, unable to control my impulses, giving in to strong desire, loosing myself along the way.
Realizing this, I decided to take extreme measures: I got rid of my gaming computer entirely. And this helped. For many years, I didnāt play at all.
But I never wanted to ban gaming from my life entirely ā for that I enjoyed it too much. Instead, I was looking for a more balanced approach to it.
After some experimentation, I settled on the following approach: I got a gaming computer again, but typically it just sits disassembled in a corner of my apartment. When I come across a game I really want to play and I feel like thereās enough time for it, I set everything up again. I then dedicate myself to playing, enjoying myself, usually for several days in a row. As soon as that familiar feeling of regret sets in, I act on it quickly: my saved state is deleted, the game uninstalled and the computer disassembled. In this way, playing becomes difficult enough for me to be able to resist the temptation.
To some extend, Iām ashamed that my lack of self-control requires such extreme measures. But Iām also proud that I found a way that works for me.
As a result, I can dedicate most of my time to activities that bring me long term satisfaction, while still enjoying games occasionally.