Paging Dr. Mario

There's a fascinating piece in the Washington Post today about the possible therapeutic uses for video and computer games.

As I have alluded to previously, this doesn't really come as much of a surprise to me.

Looking back, I've been using computer games (and, to a lesser extent, arcade games and consoles) to manage my mood going back at least as far as college, and probably longer. When my high school sweetheart broke my tender young heart Freshman year, I sought some solace by sobbing dramatically in front of friends and classmates, but also by spending some time in the arcade at the Student Union. Far more serious chunks of time than I might spend otherwise... and given how hard I used to hit the Tekken machine, that's saying something.

Just as with any other artistic medium, gaming can lead you to a host of different emotional states, but there are some that are more common and consistent:

There's the heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping Jesus-Christ-shoot-all-the-zombies kind of excitement.

There's creeping, Jesus-Christ-I-just-know-there's-a-zombie-behind-that-door-and-I-only-have-three-bullets-left dread.

There's the sudden shock of abject JESUSCHRISTITSAZOMBIEBLAMBLAMBLAM terror.

There's the pleasant panic of the Jesus-Christ-how-can-I-make-a-stack-of-blue-zombies-when-all-it-gives-me-are-red-ones variety.

There's the addictive sweetness of Jesus-Christ-my-zombie-just-leveled!

Occasionally, there's even the jaw-dropping emotional pang of the Jesus-Christ-my-SISTER-is-the-zombie?-type plot twist.

This extended metaphor has been brought to you by Zombie Kitty, and the fact that video games have a crapload of zombies in them.

There's also the Zen-like no-thought state the Washington Post article above refers to; where you're balanced right on the edge of being challenged just enough but not too much, so that your mind is occupied but you don't have to think. It's a pleasant absence of thought and feeling that you can access most easily with varied-repetitive-action games like Tetris or Bejeweled, but that you can get from almost any genre if the game is good and you're good enough at it. Your mind and self slip away... it's actually quite a bit like a meditative state.

Which makes it a highly desirable way to be if you don't want to think or feel. Which, if you're depressed, you often don't.

This is not to say that it addresses any of the underlying causes of an imbalanced mood, but it gives you time, which is all you need if you're furious and need to calm down, or need to get over that high school sweetheart without crying in public so much, or are thinking about killing yourself and your doc won't pick up the phone until the morning.

People have used emotionally-numbing pharmaceuticals and activities like this for centuries, the most obvious example probably being booze. Video games have the benefit of not destroying your liver, and not being physically addictive.

Although, as my parents can attest, psychological addiction is another matter entirely.

This is not to say that the way I've used games has always been healthy - far from it - and I certainly have taken some long-term physical damage in terms of my carpal tunnel issues. But compared to booze or coke or even sex, gaming looks pretty good as a way to self-medicate. Which we all need from time to time.

I'll be interested to see what the medical community does with it, especially as our understanding of the way the brain works gets deeper and more specific. Who knows? Maybe someday, someone will hand you a prescription that says Take 2 Hours of Dawn of War 5 and Call Me In the Morning.

And what a sweet day that'll be. Talk about not needing a spoonful of sugar...

-- The Prolix Wag
Jesus-Christ-IS-a-Zombie!!!

AAAAAAH!!!