The positive effects of video games on a child

One of my favorite jobs, or rather my privilege, is being a teacher. Not so much in a classroom setting, but in teaching my son how to be a person. It's become a distinct pleasure that's aided in good part by his naturally easygoing character. Our talks, discussions and interactions cover a wide range of topics and can reach some surprising depths, and his perceptiveness outstrips a lot of adults I know.

And of course, since he's a 12-year-old boy with a geek for a dad, a portion of our time together consists of saving the universe in video games. One of our favorites is, not surprisingly, the Halo series.

There are some reactionary critics (as well as mainstream ones) that would disapprove, and to be honest, gaming with my boy didn't quite fit in with my culturally established preconception of fathering, so I understand the reactions. My own history with my father never had much in the way of play, and perhaps that's why I make an effort to ensure the time with my own son has a good measure of fun.

It has struck me, however, that there's a number of positive elements in gaming together beyond the simple pleasures of blowing up stuff as a team. They have caused moments of surprise, pride, and laughter, but no worries or concerns that playing video games is having a detrimental effect on his psyche.

For example, soon after we had viewed the questionably accurate but visually gorgeous film "300" in a nearby cineplex, we were playing a Halo level which occurs in some rather narrow passageways. At the start of an especially brutal attack wave from the game antagonists called The Flood, my son placed his game character on one side of the hallway, instructed me to place my own next to his, and said, "We'll hold them off just like the Spartans at the Hot Gates, Dad!" The tactic worked pretty effectively of course, and now we use it appropriately during certain levels, even adjusting our overall approach to apply it when needed. What pleased me was his not just recognizing the tactic as viable and effective, but using the movie reference to explain it to me.

We had discussed around that same period of time the difference between history and legend, and how modern storytellers utilize legends, our conversation moving beyond the parallels between the Halo super-soldiers called Spartans, and the ancient Greeks of the same name. He noted that much of the teen and juvenile fiction he reads has references to legend and mythology, some strictly adhering to accepted versions of various myths, but others adjusted for purposes of flow and the particular creative vision of the writer. He also explained that he truly enjoyed learning about history when it was crafted as a story, rather than as dry and dully-presented facts. History, philosophy, science, even topics a child may not be fully cognizant of (such as ethics and morality, ideas that run through the Halo series) can be incredibly compelling if presented in a way that stirs the imagination. These games may not have introduced him to these subjects, but they certainly provide illustration and a point for launching a dialogue.

There's something else, something subtler and yet more important in the broader picture of his development. He's learned that you can respect others despite sometimes gross differences in appearance or worldview, even if they could be considered the "enemy" by those less discriminating. Some of the characters opposed to the protagonist in the Halo series are alien in every sense of the word, yet he has - over the course of playing the game repeatedly as well as reading the tie-in novelizations of the story - come to regard them with respect and a great deal of affection. These antagonists have motivations that are familiar, and the storyline within the game has them experiencing anger, regret, sorrow, fear, any number of emotions that are known as "human," yet are clearly being expressed by non-humans. He regards them much as I did familiar characters from favorite novels when I was his age, existing only in the imagination but clearly with a significant impact, their lives meaningful despite their fictionality. And my son is much better prepared to deal with people radically different from him than I ever was at his age, and I admittedly still have some reservations about others on the far end of every conceivable spectrum from me.

There are many other ideas and moments engendered by the game that I could discuss endlessly - the concepts of honor, courage, and loyalty; the meaning of loss and grief; how humor can be found in even the darkest of moments. My son and I have spent hours laughing and goofing about in the game itself, ignoring the plot and game level demands to just be silly. Some of these ideas will be reserved for other posts. Others will be moments for my son and I alone.

He's a smart, funny, talented kid who plays the cello, is a straight A student, excels in the Boy Scouts, and is protective and nurturing of children smaller and younger than himself. And when he's hanging out with Dad, likes to spend time saving the universe in a video game. It may be bothersome to people who believe video games are detrimental to a child's psychological well-being that my boy is so well-balanced. That only shows that they're less interested in the child, and more in a personal or political agenda that has nothing to do with me or my son.

And you can bet we'll be at it again, sooner than later.

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