If we’re truly motivated to do something, whether that’s getting high or grinding on Destiny’s multiplayer Crucible maps at the expense of sleep, we’ll look for any excuse to justify it. And most of us get stoned and/or play video games for essentially the same reasons we like watching our favorite movies or guzzling beers at concerts. In fact, they’re the basis of this High Scores series: a uniquely satisfying form of relaxation, escape and entertainment.
Even mobile games, which have evolved quickly in recent years thanks to increasingly sophisticated smartphone technology, can be dangerously addictive — particularly FTP (or free-to-play) titles. As this Joy of Android article states, having a predefined ending can actually be a good thing because it’s not an open-ended experience, and mobile games in particular are designed to string us along indefinitely.
People develop dependencies for the same reasons. We build tolerances after repeated bouts of high exposure, and what was fun at first is now simply a way of feeling normal. Studies have shown that the people most at risk for addiction to video games tend to feel alienation and a lack of accomplishment in the real world. They aren’t validated or appreciated in their daily lives, or they lack a structure that gives them a sense of belonging. Some are hermits, weirdos and outcasts, but others are parents, teachers and bosses. In short: painting them with a broad brush is difficult, regardless of additional research.
But let’s be honest: Whether you love gaming and weed on their own, they go together like peanut butter and chocolate. The pleasantly disorienting, introspective effects of cannabis increase the feeling of immersion in games, and games provide a consequence-free environment in which to live out fantasies among a set of easy-to-understand rules. Each tends to bolt you in place and take your mind off real-world concerns. At times, they can even approach fine art or a spiritual experience.
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In my case, the main casualty of my binges is sleep (and, consequently, my ability to concentrate the next day). I may only take a puff or three during it — let’s say the equivalent of a couple/three beers — but it’s enough to set me a on a long, sloping path with no end in sight, particularly since most games are designed to reward compulsive play.
In cases of addiction, this may lead to more serious stuff: emptying your bank account to buy weed and/or games (at $60 per game, and anywhere from $10-$25 per gram of weed in Colorado, neither are cheap), neglecting work or family, and all the negative health effects that come with being sedentary for long periods of time — including not having a life outside of your living room.
Of course, I’m casually blanketing all these behaviors with the word “addictive” when often they could be whittled down to “lazy,” so there’s a spectrum here. But in the absence of hard research, it seems the most we can do to remain vigilant against the dark side of weed and gaming is take honest stock of our behavior. If we notice our friends never leaving the house anymore, never calling us or wanting to hang out face-to-face because they’re too busy getting blazed and slaying dragons, that’s a pretty obvious sign. Less obvious: lying about how much you smoke/play, or using money you don’t have to do it.
There’s no shortage of people who would love to demonstrate how bad gaming and marijuana are for us, separately and together. They’re perennial boogeymen for politicians and pundits, and the number of people who don’t appreciate them isn’t likely to diminish anytime soon. It doesn’t help that game developers, led by Rockstar and its hugely successful Grand Theft Auto series, now portray drug use in games as casually as R-rated movies have for decades. (The latest installment of GTA even allows players to get virtually high, run a dispensary and steal drugs from cartel members, among other activities).
But these things are also supposed to be fun, so do we even really want to explore how bad they can get? Do we really want to pull the lid of their murky but clearly powerful interactions? “The scientific research on games, much of it I find very depressing and much of it falls in line with what people tell us about neurotransmitters and narcotics abuse,” author Bissell told me a few years ago during an interview for The Denver Post. “And I’m sure games work on some pretty sinister wavelengths. I’m sure of it.”
Bissell is onto something here. Regardless of the current state of research, it’s almost certain that looking more deeply into the interaction between marijuana and gaming will produce some scary realizations. Anyone who enjoys them together may long for the days when they were considered harmless and inscrutable. Are they objectively worse than, say, drinking and gambling? Or are they just a more sophisticated, nuanced version of the old Inebriation + Diversion = Fun equation?
I’m content to sink into hazy, pixelated fantasy worlds on an irregular basis, where my main source of motivation is a sense of freedom balanced with achievement and progress. Like any indulgence, video games and weed are appealing because they’re a respite from the real world, not a daily replacement for it.
