Frank Lantz has a way of poetically describing game experiences that is very seductive and even convincing. When interviewed by Sam Anderson in the
New York Times, he describes his Poker addiction as such:
It was like a tightrope walk between this transcendently beautiful and cerebral thing that gave you all kinds of opportunities to improve yourself — through study and self-discipline, making your mind stronger like a muscle — and at the same time it was pure self-destruction.
I recognize this feeling. But in my opinion these sorts of game experiences have the opposite effect of what the user thinks they're having. Like other forms of addictions, specifically use of drugs, games make players feel that they are opening their mind and learning and experiencing all sorts of new things, while in reality, they are in fact closing their mind and building walls around their own little world. A world that only fellow addicts can enter.
In the case of games, I think it is the rules that capture the mind. The rules of a game are always infinitely simpler than any sort of logic that governs reality. And while it is impossible for any human to master the latter, the idea of mastering a game seems feasible, especially given that, in competitive situation, you only really need to master it slightly better than your opponents. This gives the human brain the rush of understanding, the rush that insight brings. It feels the same as the rush brought on by religion, science or art, so the player assumes that his newly found understanding applies, like those, to the world at large, while in fact it only applies to the little world of the game's rules.
I find it very dangerous for a human mind to be captured by systems of rules. As we get addicted to the feeling of mastery of the trivial, we lose sight of the astounding incomprehensibility of the universe. In fact, we probably start thinking that this universe can be captured by rules somehow, that it must be a game, that we only need to figure out its rules and then we can master it.
But the very idea of mastering something as the ultimate achievement horrifies me. Sure it's good to learn things and to get really good at something. Even if only because the experience brings pleasure (but hopefully also because what you are learning actually matters). But to make triumph the focus of one's life is the recipe for disaster. If you don't destroy yourself through it, it will destroy people around you. The most dangerous myth of modern times is the one that says we are all heroes!