It was during lockdown when I first discovered "State of Survival," a mobile app game where you build your base and survive a zombie apocalypse. Things were new and scary when Covid hit, and when I caught it I was confined to my bed for around 10 days. With the boredom came the scouting; I wanted a new game that I could use to see me through the dullness. But it became an addiction. Let me explain...
The game is one of those that pitches people against each other. You work as part of a team and you take part in events and tournaments. It's a massive hit around the world (no, I'm not plugging it here. Rather, the complete opposite.) and it gives people one same goal - to be the strongest. Your alliance fights for dominance against other alliances. Now, at this point I should point out that the people who play this game are "responsible" adults. The reason I mention this? Because people pour money into it. And I was no exception.
Part of the game is the chance to purchase "survival packs," resources to enhance your base, your character, your alliance. The price starts around £1.99. And you could tell when people brought a pack by a little team chest offering you a prize; someone buys and everyone benefits. And, let me tell you, people spent thousands on this game. Seriously. The biggest of the big-shots, who were always at the top of the leader-boards, spent tens of thousands of pounds/dollars etc on the game. They had undefeatable armies and prided themselves on annihilating other players. Egos were reigning and common sense simply didn't make an appearance.
Now, unfortunately, I was one of these spenders. I was never at the top but I did spend thousands on the game. That is, I maxed out 3 credit cards. And I don't even remember doing it at the time. Those little resource packs increased in price, each upgrade offering better incentives. And little obedient me complied with the developers' tricks - snatching up the sparkly, shiny packs and parting with my well-earned cash. Well, the creditor's cash. But I enjoyed the attention, in a weird way. I liked being one of the stronger members of the make-believe alliance. I liked being relied on by the "weaker" members, helping them with resources, fighting and the like in this online make-believe world. And I enjoyed the friendships I seemed to have. Each Saturday was spent on Discord (a voice call, similar to Skype) chatting with my team mates from all over the world; the US, Canada, Portugal, Korea, Spain, Germany. And we'd chat and laugh for hours.
Once lockdown ended, and normality began to resume, I started to feel the impact of my spending. My credit card bills would come through each month with an eye-watering minimum payment for each. Although my wage covered it, I was heavily overdrawn all the time I was trying to pay these cards off. But despite struggling to pay them, I was still playing the game. And I was still spending. And I realised that I had become utterly addicted to this fake pixelated world. That I was constantly checking my phone to make sure my base hadn't been attacked. Even at work, I would be on my phone monitoring. I couldn't go more than half an hour without checking, often staying online for an hour at a time.
It hit me how much of life I was missing out on. Not just socially, after all my Saturdays were given to the game now. But things that really mattered, like going for lunch with family or friends, grabbing a cup of tea after a lovely walk. I simply couldn't afford to do the things I actually loved.
So I had one choice.
I couldn't go cold turkey immediately. Instead, I would take a few days off from the game at a time. It felt nice, returning to it after a short absence and having people checking in, telling me they'd missed me. I'd crack on with a few tasks then leave again for a few days. And then I went for it.
I deleted the app. I sent a message to my online friends telling them I was quitting, feeling sad when I read their shocked replies. "Please don't go," most of them said. Weirdly, although these were people I'd never met, nor would I ever meet, I felt guilty. But I still went for it and deleted the game. And, let me tell you, I felt empty. That's when I knew the addiction was real. My first Saturday in an age where I didn't go online seemed to drag. I remember sitting there, wondering what I was missing out on. And that's when another realisation hit me. I had a problem.
I gave myself a few days of going out, going to my favourite National Trust spot, seeing my family and some friends. And then I sat down, like an actual responsible adult, and went over my finances. And my time. And what the heck went wrong.
I was lonely. That was the conclusion I got from rethinking everything. I blamed the lockdown as that was the easy thing to do. But gaining weight left me with little confidence and I wasn't going out as much as I used to. And I was lonely. Feeling that little bit of affection from the other online players was a nice feeling. And I'd started to rely on it. The more money I spent on the game, the more trusted I felt by the other players, the more they approached me to chat. And I liked that. A lot of them had life problems and I liked speaking to them about it, offering advice or just a kind voice. I was helping a lot of complete strangers and I was thriving on it.
That's when I knew what I had to do. I set myself a plan to pay off the credit cards. Knowing I would stay massively overdrawn for a while, I'd accepted I'd have fees to pay but these would be less than the interest charges set by the creditors. My card with the highest interest rate got priority. And I limited my monthly spending to pay off a large chunk of that card over the next few months. Within a year, I'd paid off all the debt the game had put me in.
My next step was to continue helping people. This happened before I started this website, so I had no outlet to share my own experiences or help people with theirs. At the time, my job wasn't as unbearable. I mentioned to a superior that I wanted to help and was given details about a Wellbeing opportunity. Basically, I could train through work and start looking after people, hearing their concerns and advising them or helping them through. I was already a Mentor, having done a training course which involved some psychology. So I went for the role. And a short time later I got wonderful feedback telling me that, rather than being a Wellbeing Officer, I was more qualified to be a Champion - a mentor-figure to the Officers.
All this gave me that high I needed so badly. I was debt-free from my nasty habit. And I was given a massive confidence boost with my new voluntary role. And, on top of all that, I did it all myself. My shame meant I didn't tell anyone about my debts so I had to figure out the best plan of action by myself.
To go from spending around 2 years addicted to an app and to spending on said app, to letting go of such a large burden feels wonderful. It has made me appreciate how quickly addictions can start, and how quickly one can lose control of themselves. But it's also made me appreciate how strong one can be. Getting yourself back into a position where you have control over your life again makes you feel... well, free. And I appreciate that I can apply this to any area of my life.
I wrote this article because I offer advice, self-help methods and information. I tend not to go into how or why I know these things. It's because I've gone through them. Or going through them.
So when I say "If I can get through this, anyone can," please understand I really mean it. I haven't met anyone as weak-willed as I am. If I can show strength and get through dark patches, I really do believe everyone else can do the same.
I believe in you.
Until the next post, Big Love xx