One year ago I started playing a mobile browser game called “Chain Strike.” I was encouraged to pick up this habit when I was, 1 year ago, visiting Japan for work. In the subway, I noticed the area was lit by neon light from above and from below. Many large and brilliantly lit screens which showed advanced graphics and containing an intense depth of detail. As a stranger in a strange land, I did as the Romans did, I set to conquer this game.

The game I chose contained mentally stimulating game play which immediately had me hooked. In order to play and progress, users need to strategically move their characters like chess pieces to occupy both offensive and defensive positions. This created a casual yet intellectually stimulating pastime which fit the niche I was looking for nicely. The first days of playing were extra-fun because the rewards for playing come at a rapid fire pace. Every time a level was cleared, the reward of in-game money and resources were liberally granted. Around holidays too, rewards were doubled so as to entice those seeking refuge from pomp and circumstance.

A conservative estimate for how long I played the game for the first 2-3 months is about an hour for nearly every day. To build and strengthen the forces of addiction and habit in our lives, game developers create daily and weekly milestones for rewarding frequent play. Although I never truly craved time with the game, I was happy to have something to do to fill voids in my schedule, extend lunch breaks, or zone out with when breaks in conversation became too long. To justify the new habit, my all too logical brain quickly stepped in to warrant my behavior. “At least I’m not spending that time on Instagram or constantly scrolling through the same content in Facebook or Reddit,” I often said. Another attempt from my brain, “this game is a helpful reminder that irl habits encourage the progress of macro-goals through persistent and daily individual efforts.”



With my habit, addiction, and understanding of game play now fully formed, I was surprised to see the game change drastically. Instead of game mechanics which required my focus and concentration, auto-play features which allowed the characters to control themselves were introduced. Now, with my characters at a power level capable of clearing all game content, the importance shifted to completing content an infinite amount of times. This, in an effort to gather the digital crafting materials needed to create the most powerful content. Without the ability for me to automate the participation in the game, I likely would not have kept the habit past this point, I said. Now I can delegate the command and training of my digital heroes, which of coarse led to a seemingly ever increasing time spent in app and in game, even if not commanding my direct attention.

Blue light and screen time,

digital warriors clash.

War for distant goal.

What is most remarkable about this story, I never spent a single dollar on the game. Either to download it or to purchase in-game content. In fact, because I was playing it so often, I was actively looking for something I could buy in-game to support the developers for providing many hours of enjoyment. The prices however, so absorbent that this never came close to a reality. So, if I can’t afford this stuff, who can? And what do the developers gain from my avid daily participation if they are unable to convert me to a paying customer?

It must be my time, I’ve landed on. Either I can be a data point in their proven addiction formula, or they are rewarded for making sure that I spend all of my waking hours attached to a digital world. At the one year anniversary of my trip to Japan, I knew it was time to uninstall and break the habit. With this experience I have learned much about addiction and the forces which aim to keep me grasping towards ever more elusive goals.

