The Digital Drug: Overcoming Game Addiction

I recently wrote an article regarding the World Health’s Organization’s decision to count video game addiction as a mental disorder. Coincidentally, this post popped up on Reddit as well. I’m not gonna go through it piece by piece, as that would take too much time. But apparently, I’m at the point where people actually read (people can read? WOW!) my articles enough to warrant a personal take on game addiction. I’m not gonna enjoy this. And this will be a bit of a read. But for the sake of everyone who says the words “I’m not addicted to video games,” this is for you.

Video Games and Me

I’m not from a rich family. True, I’m not as unfortunate as some other families out there, but like most Filipinos, I grew up with the support of older relatives abroad, and even then, my parents constantly worried about making ends meet. Of course, my parents didn’t want me to feel like I was less than anyone around me, so they gave what they could spare. Other kids had toys, so I’d get toys now and then. When the Game Boy became a thing, I got a brick game. When the PlayStation became a thing, i got a SEGA Genesis. By the time PS2 was out, I got a PS1.

Unfortunately for my parents, I was underweight and sickly as a kid. I was often the brunt of jokes in class. I was more than aware of the cesspool that the world was to those who did not conform to its expectations. As a result, I preferred the company of fictional characters to real ones. Before I had video games, I found gratification of this desire in books and drawings. Then, I got the Genesis, and it just blew my mind away. Because the truth is, I found that video games simulated the stories I only imagined in books. I wasn’t just reading someone else’s story; I was experiencing it. My parents limited me to 30 minutes of game time per week. But those 30 minutes always felt like the escape from reality I needed.

The Seeds of Addiction

By 5th grade, I learned about competitive gaming. Red Alert 2 gave me that first taste of what it felt like to be better at something than another person. I’ve always had a knack for strategy; numbers, tactics, positioning… those came easy to me. Before that, the only games I played with any other kids were basketball and different variations of tag. I was always slower. I was always weaker. But in RA2, I was smarter. I knew how to suffocate enemies of resources. I knew how to use Rhino Heavy Tanks as a decoy only to pull them back and have micromanaged Terror Drones tear through resistance. All the while, I’d have a Flak Track loaded with Engineers capture the enemy construction yard. I felt control. I felt power.

That skill of outthinking enemies in a pinch later carried over to other games. First, it was Battle Realms, and then it was Counter Strike. I knew how to outmaneuver enemies, how to gauge risk vs reward. I would use allies as bait to locate the enemies, and I’d pick them off with my trusty YG1265. At that point, I was playing 30 minutes per day. That number went up to 1 hour per day by first year high school. And unlike the Genesis and PS1, I had to spend money at cafes to play these games.

Highs and Lows

The high people get from video games comes from 2 main sources: one, a sense of escape from reality; and two, a sense of competition. You could almost say video games are sports and storybooks combined in the best of ways. I picked up Ragnarok Online in 2006, and quickly found that it fulfilled the need for both of those. In itself, that isn’t a bad thing. There’s something endearing about adventuring in a free-roam world. Add other adventurers into the mix, and you have the basic MMORPG experience. Suddenly, you aren’t alone in this strange, magical landscape. Suddenly, you have parties and guilds you care for and would gladly die in digital combat for.

But hot damn… the price of my growing game addiction. I had to pay Php 15 per hour whenever I went to a net cafe. But I couldn’t play Ragnarok without prepaid cards. If I was well off, I spent on Php 100 prepaid cards for “unlimited game time for one week.” When I wasn’t, I’d spend on budget prepaid cards that cost Php 10 per hour. By that point, I was spending two hours per day in an internet cafe, totaling 50 Php per day excluding regular expenses such as food. Of course, my parents couldn’t fuel my game time at that point. So come fourth-year high school, I came up with a solution.

The Darker Side of Things

Fourth-year high school saw my rise to power as the Student Body President. And for the most part, I like to think I did well. We funded a decent science-math week, enforced school rules, and overall ensured a healthy environment on campus. But for all the good I do, I’m no saint. I never have been. Our treasury was earning too much to spend during my term, but I couldn’t take it all for myself. So, of course, I had the excess split across the board. Thus my introduction to the world of politics and vice; fuel for the addiction.

Remember how I said video games were a distraction from reality? The difficulties of college life came along, and I wanted to escape more than ever. Failed subjects discouraged me, and so I wanted to relax. So I played competitive games. I’d lose a round of Warcraft III’s mod DotA. I’d chase losses until I get a win. That would cause me to lose time for studying, and my grades would drop further. Upon seeing my decline in performance, I’d want to relax. I’d play games and lose time for my girlfriend. She’d get mad at me, and I’d want to relax. Eventually, I’d wanted to tell my parents I needed help. Then the anxiety of telling them something was wrong with me would kick in, and I’d want to relax. My daily allowance was Php 100. I spent 16 on fare, and 75 on games, 6 days a week.

Pulling the Plug

I’d like to say it all worked out in the end. My failure as an Engineering student led me to Psychology. People asked me why I chose Psych, and I always gave different answers. I had damaged my relationships too much to talk about my addiction with anyone I cared about. I feared their reactions; my mom and dad, my girlfriend. The truth was, I chose Psych as a strategy in my battle against myself. I knew my strengths as a strategist, after all. But I was too proud to tell those hurt the most by it; to ask for help from those who cared. By my fourth year of Psychology, I had learned enough to deal with my addiction. I had my school’s support system, and the knowledge I procured throughout my course.

I learned I didn’t have to escape if I found something in real life I didn’t want to leave behind.

It was too little too late for some things. I lost a relationship, and I was ashamed of having spent more on my addiction than I ever did on the girl I intended to someday marry. At the worst point, I lost an accumulated three years’ worth of time chasing digital victories against strangers who know nothing about me in real life. It all cost me Php 18,875 in each of those years. And in all my prideful silence, no one knew how much I actually lost; how hard I truly fought. It’s easy to scold those with addictions without experiencing one for yourself. And I’d like to think it’s over but I have to admit the threat may always be there.

The Aftermath of the Battle; Prelude to War

Do I still play games? Yes. Being the self-aware cynic I am, I like to think my patterns of behavior are closer to what they were when I was a child. I don’t play every day and when I do, I pick up Skyrim for a couple of hours and drop. I make time for interruptions even in the middle of competitive games (I’m hardstuck at Platinum rank in League as a result. Add me. ChickenSandwich). Truth be told, the predatory wallet-milking strategies of the modern AAA game industry make me queasy anyway. But that’s a topic for another time. The point is, I don’t intend to go back to the darker days. I’ll always love richly-developed lore and interactive stories only games can provide. That’s just me as a writer. But I am aware I cannot enjoy such stories if I cannot prioritize my survival in the physical world.

I don’t like talking about this. My battle was one in an endless war between man and the self. I only hope this helps others win their battles. I am grateful for my Alma Mater’s (SLU Baguio) Guidance Center for helping me through. I’m grateful to my workmates on this site for giving me a reason to sit in front of a screen besides play. I’m even grateful to my family for going behind my back to talk with my professors to make sure I was okay. I could have done many things differently. I could have admitted things earlier; could’ve chosen to look for help immediately rather than faced things alone. Only very rarely can people defeat their demons alone. Our demons are equal and opposite to the good in us. Neither can truly win against the other, and it takes intervention for a difference to be made.