The Healing Power of Special Interests

When I was a kid and I had a hard day at school, I used to come home, shut myself in my room, turn on my computer, and write.

The ideas that had been bubbling away inside my head all day would come gushing out like river breaking free from a dam, and I’d type out thousands of words inside an hour. And after that, somehow, I felt so much better.

To this day, when I’m feeling sick with anxiety, I read reviews of Godzilla movies, or listen to podcasts about battleships, or watch video breakdowns of how video game graphics work. These are my special interests, and when I immerse myself in them, it gives me the energy I need to fight back against fear and stress.

This is something I feel isn’t talked about enough when it comes to autistic special interests; they are a powerful coping tool, an antidote to anxiety, a wellspring of resilience and motivation, and an antidepressant all rolled into one.

A few years ago, when I had cancer and was overwhelmed with worry, my Mum used to ask me about my special interests to help me feel better, and every night as I lay there struggling to fall asleep I’d go over video games and naval history in my head; it was one of the few things that gave me any relief.

This is also why a lot of autistics dive headfirst into Youtube or gaming or a book when they get home from school or work; after a stressful day in a society not built for us, this is how we heal.

So often our autistic special interests are written off just an obsession that serves no useful purpose, but in fact, they are not only a source of great joy for us, but an invaluable ally against the stress of an often hostile world.

Game Review – Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice

I know video game reviews haven’t traditionally been a feature of Max’s Shop of Horrors, but in this case I thought I’d make an exception for a couple of key reasons. Firstly, gaming is one of my Autistic “special interests”, as it is for a great many people on the spectrum. Secondly, the game’s subject matter really resonated with me in a way that is quite relevant to the themes and issues I often discuss here.

I should preface this however with a warning; Hellblade is intended for mature audiences, containing not just violence, but vivid depictions of mental illness that some may find upsetting. Please bear this in mind should you decide to play it.

Hellblade is a game that defies the way I usually assess games. I tend to be systematic; I break a game down into its constituent parts and judge each one individually. In this case however, I find that doing so would do the game a disservice. I could talk about how I enjoyed its challenging combat and clever puzzles, and how I was impressed by the technical and artistic proficiency of its graphics, but that wouldn’t effectively illustrate just why I loved it so much.

It’s become cliché within the sphere of video game journalism to refer to a game as an “experience”, but I can think of no game for which this is a more fitting description than for Hellblade. And for me, it was a very personal one. In over 24 years of gaming, I have never been so emotionally affected by a game.

For those unfamiliar with its premise, Hellblade follows the story of Senua, a Celtic warrior suffering from severe mental illness who is on a vision quest of sorts to retrieve her dead lover’s soul from the underworld. Senua’s story is one of confronting inner demons, coping with unresolved trauma, and of how frightening the world can be when you are mentally ill. The game thrusts the player into her distorted reality, and does so to harrowing effect.

Yet at the same time it approaches the subject matter with maturity, empathy, and respect. Many other games reduce mental illness to just a tool for cheap scares; in Hellblade, however, nothing is just there for shock value alone, it all has meaning.

The game was actually developed in collaboration with people who have experienced psychological disorders, as well as neuroscientists, and the developers went to great lengths to consult those with a lived experience of mental illness so as to ensure that the end result was authentic and not exploitative.

As a person with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Senua’s journey spoke to me on a deeply personal level. I know all too well the terror of having to navigate a world teeming with frightening stimuli, as well as the struggle of not being able to fully trust one’s own perceptions. Like Senua, I too have darted between pockets of perceived safety, felt crushing guilt at the thought that my illness was harming others, felt darkness growing inside me like gangrene, and struggled to apply meaning and structure to the world around me.

Though my life has been quite different to hers, Senua felt like a kindred spirit to me. I connected with her like no other video game character I have ever played as, to the point where the game’s ending felt like saying goodbye to a close friend.

For me, video games are primarily a way of taking a break from reality, of seeking temporary refuge in a digital space where things feel so much safer and less stressful than real life. Hellblade, by contrast, was like someone held up a mirror to my own darkness, but then empowered me to challenge it within a realm where I feel in my element; the realm of video games.

 

[Hellblade is the property of Ninja Theory, and is available on Nintendo Switch, PC, Playstation 4, and Xbox One]

My speech at the Victorian Autism Conference

Aloha fellow humanoids!
I know a few weeks back I said I’d try to get a recording of my speech at VAC2016 to show you guys, but unfortunately I haven’t been able to. Sorry about that.

Instead, here’s the next best thing; the official script! I know it’s not quite as impressive, but hopefully it gets the job done. Enjoy!

Good morning!

Like the giant screen says, I’m Max, I work for the I CAN Network as a classroom mentor and editor in chief, and I’m here to talk about video games, autism, and how neither is quite as scary or negative as a lot of the media would have us believe.

In the interest of disclosure, I’m on the autism spectrum myself, and yes, video games are something of an interest of mine, just as they are for many others on the spectrum who I know and work with.

So let’s start with the medium itself. Video games as we know them originated in the 1970s, and at the time, they were basically electronic toys. And that’s an image that has stuck, even to this day.

I would argue, however, that in 2016, this is an obsolete stereotype, and that to pigeonhole all video games as toys is a bit like saying that all food is nothing but cellular fuel, with no other purpose than to keep us alive. Because just as food plays a myriad of social, cultural, and even medicinal roles, video games as they exist today encompass a wide range of forms and functions, from complex storytelling, to artistic expression, to shared social experiences.

Now, I’m sure most of you won’t be surprised to hear that people on the spectrum very often have an affinity for gaming. Among both my colleagues and students, it’s probably the single most popular “special interest” that comes to mind. So why is that? By the way, just so I’m covered, this gentleman, who you may recognize, is property of Nintendo.

Well, first of all, gaming can be a great way of relieving stress. A virtual world can be a “safe space” of sorts. School or the workplace can be frightening, chaotic, and it just seems to make no sense sometimes. Games, by contrast, have a degree of predictability and logic than can be very comforting.

In real life, you never quite know how people will react, or what will happen next, and that uncertainty can be terrifying. There’s that constant anxiety, that feeling that at any moment things will go pear-shaped. Video games allows us to take a break from that, because in a video game I know that if I press this button, this happens, or if I flip this switch, that happens.

Games can also be a welcome distraction from unpleasant thoughts. I think it’s fair to say that most of us have that thing we do to take our mind off things that upset us, whether it be a good book, music, television, or a glass of wine. Such diversions can be very valuable coping tools, as they can act like the scab on a healing cut, providing a sort of temporary protection to give our bodies and our minds time to recover.

A person on the spectrum may come home from school or work, and they might be like a pot that’s boiling over, just bubbling with stress that’s been building up all day. What they may need is something that can take the pot off the boil for a bit, so that it can cool down, and for a lot of us, video games do just that.

Another potential benefit of video games is that they can provide an outlet not just for one’s stress, but also one’s creativity. There are many games today that instead of ushering the player through a predetermined obstacle course, instead act as a canvas for the player’s own creative expression. They provide you with the tools, and then let you loose to do what you want.

Perhaps the quintessential example of this is Minecraft. Personally, I’d be very interested to know what proportion of Minecraft players are on the spectrum, because I suspect the number would be very interesting. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the game, (I dunno, maybe you’ve been on Mars for the last 5 years) it’s basically a sophisticated virtual Lego set, where the player harvests materials then uses them to build whatever they want. And some of the things I’ve seen people build on it are just amazing. I know this one kid, this really gifted young guy, and he loves Steam Trains. And he actually built a working steam engine in Minecraft, in his spare time.  It’s a lot like building physical models or Lego sets as a hobby, except it’s considerably cheaper.

Sometimes, it’s not a specific game, but rather the medium itself that can serve as a creative canvas. The software tools for building a video game have never been more accessible and easy to use as they are today, and many people on the spectrum now make their own games, in much the same way as others might write a book, or a paint a painting. Not only is this a way for them to express their creativity, but in a world where video gaming is now a bigger industry than Hollywood, those coding skills could come in very handy someday.

Gaming can also be a socializing aid. One of my favourite stories in this regard is a young lady I know, a friend and colleague of mine, who really struggled with how to connect with other kids when she was in primary school. Not only was she very shy, but she just couldn’t seem to find any common ground with the other kids. Then one day, during the lunch break, she saw one of her classmates playing Pokémon on their Gameboy. And suddenly, there it was, that mutual interest, that common ground that they could bond over. That broke the ice, and that’s how she made friends at school for the first time.

And there’s multiplayer, where people can play together, either competitively or cooperatively, turning the act of playing itself into a shared social experience. A recent example of this is something you may have noticed happening in public parks over the last month or so. I’m talking, of course, about Pokémon Go; which for those of you who weren’t born in the 1990s, is a mobile game, which encourages players to get outside, explore their neighbourhoods in search of Pokémon, and along the way, meet other people who also play the game. Several people I know have already made new friends this way.

Basically, gaming can provide a familiar and comfortable environment in which to develop one’s social skills.

So if you have a kid on the spectrum who’s really into gaming, for example, a great thing to do is see if there are some games they play where you could join in, and play with them. Now, naturally, a lot of time they’ll want to play alone, because gaming can be their escape from having to deal with people, (and, let’s face it, their parents) but by offering to come into their world and participate in something they enjoy, on their terms, you can kind of meet them halfway, and spend time together in a way that’s comfortable for them.

Another factor that shouldn’t be overlooked, role that gaming can play in one’s social identity. A lot of kids on the spectrum can feel undervalued because they may not be the great at sports, or conversation, or a lot of things that denote social status in the schoolyard. They can often feel as though they’re not good at anything, that they have nothing to offer. But if they’re great at a video game, especially one with a multiplayer component, then among those who play the game, they’re a rock star. Everybody wants to have them on their team. Instead of always getting picked last in PE, people are fighting over who gets to have them on their side. And that sense of being valued and respected for their abilities can be an immense boost to one’s self-esteem.

Now, as with a lot of really awesome things, when it comes to gaming, moderation is key. I mean, broccoli is generally good for you, but if all you ever eat is broccoli, probably not a great idea. Similarly, it’s fine to have a best friend, but if you only have one friend and base your entire social life around that one person, again, it might not work out so well.

Gaming can be one avenue of social connection, but it should not be the only one. It should be a supplement to offline interaction, not a replacement.

Also, and this may sound a bit old school, but if we’re talking about kids, I think it’s important to set boundaries. For example, they can play games, but only for two hours a day. Or they can play games for an hour after school to calm down, but if they want to play for longer, they have to earn game time by, for instance, doing their homework.

A common question is, where do you draw the line? I would answer that by saying that it becomes a problem when it becomes a detriment to other areas of one’s life. One way this can be nipped in the bud is to ensure that does not become a dependency; for example, schedule a day out that’s technology free, so that they learn to cope without it. They can play when they get home, but for now, we’re here at the zoo to see the animals, not to play Candy Crush.

To return to the broccoli analogy, gaming should be treated like one food group within a balanced diet.

The media likes to portray gaming as something of a brain drain; a negative, corrupting influence, kind of like how television and rock and roll were portrayed when my Mum was growing up. I’d argue that reality is not so black and white, that almost everything in life has its positive and its negative aspects.

And while it’s certainly important to manage and minimizes the cons, I think it’s also very important to leverage the positives. Video games are here to stay, and so is autism. And I know from personal experience that the two can get along magnificently.

Thank you.

 

 

The Digital Cocoon

It’s a story we hear a lot; the person on the autism spectrum who retreats into the sheltered comfort of the virtual world to escape the perennial grinding stress of the “real world”.

After all, in the world of ones and zeros, things are clean and orderly. Things make sense. Sure, it’s no perfect haven; online harassment is a constant threat, but compared to reality’s myriad of sometimes unbearable tactile, visual, aural, and olfactory stimuli that come thick and fast as lasers in a 1990s arcade shooter, it can seem like a comfortable womb of anesthetized tranquility. 

Here’s the thing though; in this day and age, how many of us, autistic or not, can say we never take shelter in the digital realm, whether it be television, video games, or social media?

This is not a spectrum-exclusive tendency, it’s a natural human response to an often hostile environment.

People love to talk about technology taking over our lives and destroying social interaction, but the withdrawal into media is hardly a new phenomenon:

The key, as with most things, is moderation. There’s nothing strictly wrong with chilling out to a bit of Super Mario, Facebook, or Game of Thrones. We all do it. Well, nearly all of us. We just have to make sure it remains a pastime rather than our natural state. If it has gotten out of hand, ease off gradually, as if you’re lowered the dosage of a medication.

Yes, it’s important not to quit reality altogether, but there’s nothing wrong with taking breaks from it.