I believe computer games can be a healthy diversion. I know people for whom they are. But they weren’t for me and they aren’t for a lot of people. Writing my first post a few weeks ago made me find stories of other gamers’ addictions. This was therapeutic because it made me remember why I quit computer games.

Being addicted to computer games, like any addiction, is a hollow existence. You are inexplicably drawn to something that ultimately leaves you empty inside. I would start playing, become oblivious to my surroundings, and then at some point have to pull myself away. But I knew once I did, I’d have to face the reality that I just dumped several hours of my life away into something meaningless. It’s a cycle of escaping from the reality of your addiction by continuing to feed it.

How did I know I was addicted? Some people claim that admitting you have a problem is the hardest part of making things better. I have to disagree. It was not hard to see I was addicted:

• In middle school, I played a game called Diablo 2. I remember watching a TV show where the subject, a singer, landed a big recording deal and was acting very excited. I remember wondering, “How can life be exciting without an Ethereal Breath of the Dying Colossus Blade?”
• I was never great at the game I more recently played, DotA. There were players who had played significantly less than I had who were significantly better. I only played for the high it gave me, not to try new tactics and improve my skills.
• When doing homework, I would often be unable to concentrate due to my desire to play DotA.
• I would play DotA games in my dreams. This was accompanied by rude awakenings when my character was slain.
• I often stayed up until 4 AM, though it wasn’t unusual to stay up all night.
• I would use the words “good game” or the shortened version “gg” to describe any situation where someone wins, someone loses, or any situation at all, really.

For more signs that you or someone you know may be addicted to DotA, see here and here.

The hardest part of recovering from video game addiction is no longer seeing a gold star shoot out of your likeness when you achieve something. How can you see value in “real world” achievements if you’re used to measuring achievements in an artificial world? It’s an ironic issue of tangibility. Computer games give you tangible rewards even though they are nothing more than clever combinations of light on a screen. “Real” achievements are not as easily measured yet create conspicuous value. (I use scare quotes around “real” because some obviously do see conspicuous value in virtual objects.)

Getting a recovering addict to see the value in natural activities again is difficult, but the difficulty erodes with time. I have proof of this.

In a series of events that would make a lab scientist proud, I went on the same hike in the same place with the same person at the same time of year – once in August of 2010 and again a few days ago in August of 2011. All the variables remained constant to eliminate potential sources of error. We even went to the same restaurant after the hike.

When we went in August 2010, it was moderately enjoyable. I was a few months fresh off quitting DotA, and the outdoors were not yet anything of great interest to me. I think my prevailing emotion was annoyance at the mosquitoes.

When we went a few days ago, it was amazing. I took about 30 pictures with the camera on my phone, including my new phone wallpaper and a gorgeous view of the Columbia River. When I got home, I started researching a trip to the Arizona/Utah desert to see The Wave. This was followed by cajoling my parents into taking the trip with me.

So how does one set about beating an addiction? The first step is to really want to quit. You have to realize how messed up your life is, and sometimes you need others to help you see this.

Speaking of other poeple, finding a support group to encourage the dropping of your addiction is mandatory, not optional. If there’s nobody there to see you fail, chances are you will. I was very fortunate to have a brother, mother, and father who all wanted to see my habit gone, and I realize some people aren’t as lucky. (Interestingly, my mom didn’t mind me playing computer games during high school because she figured it was better than the stupidity surrounding drugs and alcohol.)

Though some may have to work harder than I did to find a support group, it is a must. However, people who seek out a support cast of their peers would probably have it better than I did, as none of my family understood my problem the way my fellow gamers did.

The next step is to remove the source of the addiction from your presence. For computer games, that means deleting the game from your computer and then smashing, burning, making art out of, letting your dog defecate on, or otherwise creatively disposing of the game disc. I gave mine to my brother, who conveniently lost it.

The presence of the source of addiction is probably what varies most from addiction to addiction. Though video game addiction sucks, I imagine it’s harder to cope with something like food addiction because you have to eat, whereas video games are not essential to your survival (contrary to what some would have you believe).

Lastly, you have to find something to fill the void. When I first quit, I thought life would be great because I suddenly had six more hours per day to do something. As it turns out, you don’t become any more productive from quitting computer games. You just find some other waste of time. In retrospect, it’s proof to me that nothing good in life happens overnight. It took awhile to become interested enough in more meaningful pursuits to be able to spend several hours per day on them.

Though my addiction had a firm grasp on me and it will likely take another few years to forget about DotA completely, it’s not as bad as some problems. I can only vaguely imagine how hard it would be to deal with some drug addictions or the sudden tragic loss of a loved one. The good news is that time heals and you emerge stronger on the other side of your problem.

The other day, I posted a video of my first pitch. Being self-conscious, I wondered if anyone would wonder why I would voluntarily make an ass out of myself. Though there’s nothing wrong with stupidity for stupidity’s sake, that’s not what I was going for.

If you trust me, I want you to imagine something. Imagine you want to get in the best shape of your life. You want to look and feel great. What would you do?

a) Work out naked in your garage while someone secretly videotapes you.

b) Start working out and eating right.

c) Start working out and eating right and enter a bodybuilding competition.

If you’re like most people, you’d answer b), although [insert obligatory joke about how some would answer a)]. Very few would answer c).

But why not? I don’t know about you, but if I knew I was going to stand up in front of a hundred people in a Speedo, I’d be pushing it pretty hard when I was exercising. I would do this because my ego makes me want to avoid humiliation. This leads me to believe the following:

Depending on the size of your ego, humiliation is a powerful motivator. But don’t listen to me. I’m just a young punk. Listen to Steve Jobs: “Stay hungry, stay foolish”. (He doesn’t mean exactly the same thing as me, but I like to think his words are open to interpretation.)

Though humiliation can be one valuable tool in pushing one forward, it is just one tool, and no one tool can be used too often. (I just used the word “one” way too many times.) If one humiliates himself too often, he risks losing self-esteem.

But what if avoiding humiliation is not just about ego? What about people who simply don’t want to sabotage their professional standing in society? They’ve worked hard to get where they are, and they don’t want to goof that up. My argument would be that one does not attain an enlightened view in society by eschewing all that places him in a vulnerable position. He attains it by doing crazy shit. Why fix something that works? That being said, complacency isn’t such a bad fate for those who feel like they’ve done everything they wanted to in life. But really, who feels like they’ve done everything they wanted to?

Some may wonder why humiliation should have to motivate people. They think it’s “dirty” motivation. Why can’t we just be motivated to do a good job? That’s another topic for another day, but in short: forget about it. Motivation is hard enough to come by that one shouldn’t have to filter out “bad” motivation from “good” motivation.

Though my first pitch was humiliating, I now have a better idea of how to give a pitch without being humiliated. And that’s something I wouldn’t have been able to say if I was never humiliated. Now someone throw me a bone.

mp4 version of video
ogg version of video
transcript of speech

Here is what I hope to be the first in a series of me pitching at the Pitch Club. Yeah, it’s a low quality video. Better stuff next time!

The Pitch Club is monthly gathering at the Portland Incubator Experiment where brave spirits pitch for three minutes to an esteemed panel, including Laura Mansfield, Merrick (full name is a mystery), Jason Glaspey, and Rick Turoczy. Those pitching are mainly tech hopefuls, but any topic from world domination to lawn manicuring is welcome. The person pitches and the panel gives harsh feedback (which is the best kind of feedback). At a cost of $0, it’s a great deal.

Though my pitch sucked, I learned a ton. Below are the main things I did wrong and what I should have done instead.

What I did wrong #1: Told a story

I thought captivating everyone’s imagination with a vague, almost whimsical story of our vision would get people excited. In the end, however, the panel and my fellow Pitch Clubbers were left scratching their heads wondering what the hell I was talking about. (Actually they were hearing nails on a chalkboard from seeing me forget my lines, but that’s beside the point.)

What I should have done #1: Give numbers

I still think a story is a great way to liven up a pitch, but it has no substance by itself. It has to be ancillary to or in support of facts and figures. (That, and graphs that go UP & to the RIGHT). Though slides aren’t allowed at the Pitch Club, the more your pitch has the shape of mint.com’s pre-launch pitch deck, the more $$$ you are.

Wrong #2: Write and prepare my speech in three days
The speech was to be given on a Thursday and I started preparing on Monday. At a pitch length of three minutes, that’s no problem for a seasoned pitcher. It is a problem for a first-timer who has a school midterm on Wednesday.

Right #2: Take one week to write the content and another week to practice pitching it
I’m not sure how this will work, but it’s what I’m going to try for the next pitch.

Wrong #3: Dress like I was going to paint someone’s house

Right #3: Dress at least semi-formally

The Pitch Club is for practicing, and the attire is part of the practice.

Wrong #4: Saunter around aimlessly

I was trying to come off as cool and indifferent to this pitch thing I was doing (no big deal), but it’s not a fantastic technique to try on your first pitch. Or any pitch where you’re begging for money.

Right #4: Limit movement

Stand up straight, limit movement, and spend more time looking at the audience than that cool Wieden+Kennedy poster. The less you’re looking at your audience, the less they’re looking at you. They need to be engaged.

I can’t be too hard on myself, so now I’m going to acknowledge a thing or two I did well that will carry over into subsequent speeches.

What I did right #1: Spoke slowly with good intonation
I definitely didn’t rush this one, and I feel my voice was engaging enough.

Okay, that’s the only good thing I can point out, but hopefully that won’t be the case next time. I’m very much looking forward to the next Pitch Club to apply what I’ve learned. Stay tuned for that, but in the meantime check out a dozen of the best start-up pitches.

The other day, Brian asked me a question.

I was helping to add MongoDB to his creation DataMullet (a sweet NoSQL PHP and REST API for cross-database storage, but I digress). He asked, “Ben, isn’t working on this a lot more fun than working on math problems at ProjectEuler.net?”

I wanted to say yes. I really did. But the answer was no. Working on math problems with seemingly no real-world application was sadly more fun than working on a piece of software that provides a very cool convenience (using any back-end with one simple API).

And I think I know why.

The problem his software solves is not a problem I have. I’m not very adventurous when it comes to back-ends, and I have always been served well by MySQL despite its complexities (complexities that become apparent when one uses MongoDB).

The problem I do have is that I used to play DotA six hours per day. Realizing my addiction, I pulled the plug back in April of 2010. All of a sudden I had an extra six hours in the day to figure out what to do with myself.

This was not easy. It still is not easy.

My friend Zach introduced me to ProjectEuler.net about a month ago. He invited me to hang out and work on math problems from some website I had never heard of. I looked at the website and promptly dismissed it as a waste of time, but buried that initial reaction and cheerfully agreed. I headed over to his place and we started on problem 1.

Five hours of stumbling through Python algorithms and half a pizza later I was addicted. (Yes, I would say I have an addictive personality).

I had finally found something that engrossed me in much the same way DotA did:

• DotA games that lasted anywhere from 2 – 90 minutes were now math problems with the same completion time.
• The tangible reward I got from seeing my level rise and gold/items accumulate was now a ProjectEuler avatar (see my sidebar) stating the number of problems I had solved.
• Most importantly, the math problems provided me with the same completely-oblivious-to-your-surroundings engagement that DotA did. Any words directed at me were rejected by an impermeable bubble of concentration.

Though ProjectEuler.net is not a silver bullet for my problem of being addicted to computer games, it certainly has provided some relief. I remember hearing that Meriwether Lewis’ (of Lewis and Clark fame) bipolar disorder was not as effectual during his grand explorations. He was simply too busy to feel the full effects of it. While addiction and manic depression are two different problems and my addiction is not nearly as bad as some, I believe some mental problems can be decreased and maybe eventually negated by finding activities that are perpetually engaging.