Kotaku’s Mike Fahey has written a candid and powerful article about his Everquest addiction – one of the worst cases I’ve seen – and how it nearly destroyed his life. It takes a lot of strength and courage to write something like this about oneself, and Mike’s story is as heartrending as it is personal.
I am on record as questioning the veracity of claims that games are addictive, and also on record as stating that addiction itself might not necessarily be so bad, but the truth is, as Mike’s article so eloquently describes, games can become habits and those habits can become pretty damn deleterious if you let them.
I guess the issue I have with the argument that games are “addictive” is the use of the word. Heroin, cigarettes, alcohol; these things are physically addictive, which is to say once your body becomes addicted to them, their absence causes physical symptoms. These addictions are perforce much harder to bring under control.
Reality television, marijuana, video games, and most other so-called “addictive” things are not physically addictive. They are emotionally addictive. You want them, but don’t need them. It may sometimes feel like you need them, but you don’t, not at a physical level. Alcoholics and heroin addicts can die if their substance is taken away abruptly. The same is not true for internet porn, as much as you might miss your spank material during cable modem outages.
So the issue I have is with semantics. I don’t question for a minute that games can become a serious habit, that what Mike Fahey went through in his Everquest period was as real and powerful as it was ruinous. I just get antsy when the word “addiction,” with all its hideous connotations, is used in conjunction with gaming. But in all honesty and conscience I can’t realistically claim that it doesn’t exist for games; it’s just not the same as the addictions that can kill you… as demonstrated by Mike, who went through hell and pulled himself out of it. And while I guess that someone lacking his strength could theoretically waste away in front of their computer, it wouldn’t be the games that did the deed.
I myself have developed an addiction to Demon’s Souls. Not in the sense that I can’t tear myself away from it or I’m going to lose my house over it, but in the sense that it’s like an abusive spouse I keep returning to again and again even though it beats me. And much like an abused spouse, I can’t explain why I’d subject myself to this punishment, why I don’t learn from history, but that’s where I’ll be after work: in the Shrine of Storms, getting my ass handed to me. In 50 hours I have made essentially no substantive forward progress; I’m dead and I’ve been dead since the beginning of the game (being dead in Demon’s Souls is sort of like the Tupac version of being dead, it doesn’t affect your activities that much), I’ve only killed a couple of minor bosses, and I’m showing no signs of getting better. But there I am, and there I’ll be, until someone comes to my rescue. Hopefully my rescue will be Borderlands.
Position on games as addictive substances notwithstanding, Mike Fahey’s article deserves special mention and notice. Kotaku isn’t really hurting for visitors, but this is something everyone should read, if only to recognize and salute a writer with the extraordinary courage to lay bare his soul in such a manner.
It could be argued that what you’re calling emotional addiction and physical addiction aren’t so far removed in that they can stimulate similar chemical responses — release of endorphins, et cetera.
If I were to quit playing World of Warcraft, would I suffer flu-like symptoms as I would when quitting heroin, or would I get a cold as I have the two times I’ve quit smoking? Probably not, but there can be other responses to the removal of such stimuli, such as depression and irritability.
I see where you’re coming from, but I think, as with most things, it is a question of degree.
Hi DPenn,
I do agree that the two effects are not far removed, and I am not one to minimize emotional effects such as depression. One key difference, though, is that while the effect of both types of addiction are the same – endorphin release – the result of removing the stimulus can be markedly different.
Addiction of any type subtracts from your life. An addict performs the addictive activity to the detriment of other activities, as Mike Fahey did. I guess the issue I take with the use of that word in conjunction with games is the inherent implication that playing games is automatically doomful. What Mike went through was obviously dangerous; what a core gamer does – playing games more than any other form of entertainment – is completely harmless. As you say, the question is one of degree. What troubles me is that anti-gaming advocates can use such arguments to distort the experience unfairly.
It’s my opinion that there are people out there that are more vulnerable to getting addicted than others. Sort of like having an “addictiveness” gene so to speak. I consider myself lucky that I don’t really get addictive to anything. I can go to Vegas and smoke a pack of cigs, and then return to my daily life and not smoke again for a year. Same with gaming, I can go on a binge and play a game for 100 hours in a month long period, then go months without playing much of anything. But there does seem to be a segment of the population that just can’t help itself but get addicted to various things, whether drugs or shopping or WoW, or anything else. Who knows though, if I start smoking crack, perhaps I would get addicted to that. I don’t plan on going down that road though….
Lakerz, crack is awesome. You’re totally missing out. (JUST KIDDING FOR ANY BOSSES OR FUTURE BOSSES WHO MAY BE GOOGLING ME)
I agree – there is a huge genetic component. And most addictions are also a form of escapism; that is, an attempt to alter, improve, or exit the mundanity of this life in favor of something temporarily more exciting. Video games may be the ultimate culmination of that.
Soon after I clicked on the Koatu link and started reading Mike Fahey’s heartfelt confession of his so-called addiction, I kept muttering, “Addiction…bullshit. The man is hiding. Hiding from his girlfriend, hiding from his job, hiding from the bus stop two blocks down”. To his credit he admitted it himself further down in the article. He wasn’t addicted to anything other than his own fear of living.
I’ve seen firsthand, closeup, and personal the ravages of heroin and alcohol addiction and games are nothing next to them. I could list ad nauseum acts of outrage by junkies and alcoholics against society, community and loved ones. I think any reasonable person will admit that losing weight in front of a computer monitor doesn’t quite match murder in a back alley. Like Steerpike so succinctly states, hard core gaming is, in the end, pretty damn harmless and anyone trying to compare crazed gamers with dead-ender junkies is deluded.
True, sometimes those kind of comparisons can be done in a manipulative manner, but in this case there seem to be good reasons for doing them.
Even if an addicted gamer probably won’t have enough incentive to kill someone if that person is a hindrance in playing, and a junkie would have easily done that to ease his pain, I’m convinced both are prepared to lie and steal to get what they want. The gamer’s kind of addiction is less harmful and weaker overall, but far from being harmless.
It seems as if the problem with word choice, here, comes down to a culpability of the substance that is the subject of the addiction. Drugs are controlled substances because their chemical make up causes physical addiction to themselves. Video games, Gambling, Sex &c, as you’ve pointed out, have nothing chemically inherent about them that makes them addictive. Instead what makes them addictive is the level of escapism that they allow. So when a person becomes addicted to them, we could say, they are not becoming addicted to the substance, but the feeling the that the substance creates. One does not become addicted to gaming, one becomes addicted to the way gaming makes you feel.
The distinction, I think, is how much we blame the substance. Because there is nothing in inherent in gaming that makes it physically addictive, it seems silly to blame games for addictive behavior. Heroin is addictive because of the way that it interacts with your body. Games are addictive because they’re fun. Your level of addiction to fun may vary.
That’s a really good point, lokimotive. Like problem gamblers, for example, enjoy the “rush” of risking their money. The gambling itself doesn’t do anything to them.
I often find myself wondering how bad the world would be if all illegal drugs were legalized. After all, heroin is illegal but booze is not; cocaine is illegal but cigarettes are not. Back in the day you could walk into a drugstore and buy yourself a big bottle of laudanum. I’m not sure society would crumble the way some people think it would. After all, there are plenty of alcoholics and smokers out there, many of whom are perfectly functional. Would making other addictive substances swell the ranks of the addicted all that much? I’m not certain it would. The reduction in crime alone might be worth a larger population of addicts anyway.
I remember reading an LA Times front page article not too long ago which laid out a sad story about how an entire generation of Russia’s youth are getting addicted to Heroin right now. Experts there are making the case that this might be a lost generation so to speak. I also remember the story mentioning that the only known way to ween addicts off heroin (methadone is it?) happens to be a banned substance in Russia. They may have to chance that law, as otherwise no one will be able to kick that habit.
I agree with Scout though. Comparing game addiction to something like heroin addiction just doesn’t fly.
I think “escapism” is another questionable word choice in the addiction discussions. Seeking escape on its own doesn’t make you obsessed over one single activity as there are many ways to escape. Yet people that get addicted to games in most cases get obsessed over one specific game, which gameplay consists of repeating similar actions over and over again.
Also, what about kids who are cared for and don’t really realize the importance of taking care of any responsibilities by themselves. Do they too seek escape from life, or do they just get stuck in this activity that makes more sense to them than doing other things.
And then there are kids who do realize that it is important to manage their lives but just can’t be bothered to step up. Rewards are far off and very hard to obtain. Failure hurts in real life. Easier to keep your head down and stay tucked away in a pre-managed world such as gaming provides. I imagine we can populate all these descriptions with people.
But I believe there is a fundamental divide between behavioral addictions and physical addictions. If all drugs were legal most addicts would be pretty functional and few if anyone would even realize they had an addiction.
Scout, I prefer your term of “behavioral addiction” over mine of “emotional addiction.” This is essentially the key difference, as lokimotive so effectively explained: in physical addiction, there is a substance that interacts with one’s body and alters it in some way.
In behavioral addiction there is not.
I must disagree with you on some points, Igor, because I’ve got perfect parents who raised me outstandingly, yet I seek escape in everything from my imagination to my gaming. I see life as something unpleasant (but not unbearable) that I must simply get through. And still I recognize responsibility – again, thanks to my Mom and Dad teaching me what responsibility is. My outlook is no one’s fault, it’s just my own view of the way things are for me; a case in which nature overcomes nurture.
While I’m sure that some people find themselves attached to repetition of the same activity, I don’t view this as equal to addiction of either kind.
But again we return to broken semantics, when I state, for expediency, that I am “addicted” to Demon’s Souls, when in truth I am just fascinated by it. The difference becomes one of language rather than reality.