As with millions of other parents around the world, when our two sons get home from school this afternoon, we have no idea when they’ll be going back. Their schools have been hastily scrabbling together remote learning plans, but things are going to be chaotic and unstructured and that’s something we’ll all have to learn to deal with. What I know for certain is that my boys will have one thing on their mind: video games.
What they’re picturing (and I can almost see the thought bubbles above their heads when we talk to them about the school closure) is three months in front of the TV playing Apex Legends. You may be in a similar situation in your household, and you may already be feeling guilty about the amount of time your children will end up spending in front of screens simply because you have work to do and their options are limited.
And while it’s going to be important to manage screen time, to work out some form of educational routine and to get the children outside once in a while, you shouldn’t feel guilty if they’re spending more time than usual playing games. There already seems to be a clamour on social media to outdo one another in self-isolation planning. Frankly, if your kids aren’t making artisan soda bread every morning, followed by YouTube pilates, then two hours of conversational French over Skype to a family in Bordeaux than you’re not cutting it.
But you are cutting it. You still have a job, you still have to provide for your family, and if that means more time for the kids on games, that is okay. It’s okay.
As I have spent my career trying to get across, video games aren’t that bad. They’re not all violent. They’re not all anarchic and noisy. Some are highly creative, they teach a variety of skills, and they’re social. Playing Fortnite or Overwatch or Minecraft is a vital element in a lot of friendships. When my sons play online with their friends, they chat about their lives and have a laugh: at this time, when they’re unable to meet up, playing games together is going to be a vital way to stay in touch.
It’s also normal. If parents find the current situation scary and bewildering, what must our children think? In this environment of constant rapid change, games offer something familiar and steady – they offer rules of engagement and involvement that never change. As the parent of an autistic child I have long understood this under-appreciated element of video games – they are machines of routine; you get out exactly what you put in. How comforting, how reliable.
Sure, do what you can in your community to get children together virtually, through apps such as Skype, Google Hangout and Zoom; do what you can to keep them learning. But don’t fret about games, don’t beat yourself up about it. If nothing else, games can be added into a home education plan: the Minecraft Education site has a wealth of exercises based around a variety of subjects, while Assassin’s Creed Odyssey has a tour mode that teaches participants about the Peloponnesian War. Your children can learn about architecture and urban planning from City Skylines or about agriculture from Farming Simulator.
But really, the value of video games is normality. It’s hanging out with friends and making jokes at each other’s expense. It’s not thinking, for a few moments, about what all this means and where it’s going. You don’t have to indulge in self-isolation oneupmanship, and you don’t have to feel bad for falling short on the ideal that’s forming on Facebook and Twitter. You can just get through it. That’s enough. And if games are a part of that, fine. They certainly will be in our household.
