Meeting them in their game

Video games have a reputation, and not a good one, at least among parents. For years, I kept my distance. “Brain rot” some experts say. I’ve said it myself, often and with conviction. I’ve worried as my four children have grown up, eyes glued to screens, but over the recent holiday weekend, I caved. My now adult children (gamers, all of them) convinced me to join them. When I sensed their genuine excitement at the possibility that I might finally enter their world, how could I refuse?

The game was Minecraft, where players explore, build, and survive in a blocky, pixelated universe. Think digital Lego meets wilderness survival, with a dash of engineering.

Before I could begin, however, there was the small matter of getting set up. This, I discovered, was no small matter. Out came an assortment of computer equipment that had been gathering dust in closets. A screen, keyboard, and headset. I was instructed to wear ear pods underneath the headset so that I could simultaneously hear a voice chat on my phone and the game’s audio through the computer.

There followed a symphony of muting and unmuting on the phone, on the computer, and on the headset. I was assured not to worry. “We’ve got this,” they said. I did not.

Soon enough, there I was: seated, wired, and ready. My grown children, now giggling playmates, were scattered across three different cities, with one just down the hall. Yet we were all together in the game. I could literally see their characters running circles around me.

Then the real test began. “Click here, Mom.” Easy enough. Except that was merely the beginning of what felt like a neurological stress test. First, I had to grasp perspective. With the click of a button, I could switch from seeing the world through my character’s eyes to viewing my character from the outside.

Then came movement. To walk, I had to use the W, S, A, and D keys with my left hand while my thumb hovered over the space bar to make me jump. My right hand controlled the mouse, which required sliding, clicking left and right, and scrolling with the middle finger. This was no walk in the park. My brain and coordination were being tested.

At one point, I was tasked with making an iron pickaxe. “Simple,” they said. Except it wasn’t. First, you need to get wood for a handle. Then you must craft a furnace. Next, the mining, for coal and iron ore. Then comes the crucial insight: coal goes in the bottom of the furnace, iron ore in the top. The game requires players to use reason, but I would have been helpless without my kids telling me how to survive.

There was laughter. Lots of it. Belly-bursting laughter. There we were: a family spread across distances, connected by technology, having a blast.

I was thinking about the health benefits. Mental agility, hand-eye coordination, memory, and perhaps most importantly, social connection. Most researchers don’t focus on games like Minecraft; they use cognitive-training tests that miss the elements found in the family fun I’m talking about. So, they report modest improvements in attention, reaction time, and memory, but my guess is that a little bit of Minecraft among people of my generation goes a long way in boosting cognitive flexibility, spatial reasoning, and the wholesome happiness factor.

Will I play again? I’m counting on it. Much as I love a good book or a quiet walk in the woods, I’m intrigued by the potential for games like Minecraft to keep me sharp as I age.

This column offers opinions on health and wellness, not personal medical advice.