Every generation of college students has something that, looking back, tops the list of “Things We Wasted Time On.” For the guys of my era, the number one thing would probably be playing “Goldeneye.”
Goldeneye, for those who aren’t familiar, was a video game based on the James Bond movie of the same name. By today’s standards, the game is archaic and unrealistic, but back then it was pretty cutting edge and exciting (“It’s in 3D, man!”). It used the N64 gaming console, which enabled 3D motion rather than the Super Mario-era 2D setup, along with a first-person point of view. While the missions themselves were cool and followed scenes from the movie, the REALLY popular thing about the game was the multiplayer mode. You could have up to four players join in an every-man-for-himself battle royale where you could pick the setting, the weapons, and the limits. For whatever reason, this video game was cool enough for us to waste the better part of entire days.
There were a whole bunch of us who were into the game, but only one guy, Tom, owned it. We consistently packed into his dorm room. The two guys who lived there arranged their room to somehow squeeze a loveseat in the middle so they could accommodate players more comfortably. Tom had a huge TV (pre-flat screen, so it was huge in all three dimensions), the N64 console, and a whole bunch of the N64’s weird controllers. There were constantly multiplayer battles and tournaments going on in that room. I don’t know how the guys who lived there got any classwork or studying done. When both guys were at class or gone for the weekend and their room was locked, people would actually break into their room to play Goldeneye.
For awhile there, this game took over our lives. It’s all we could think about doing in our spare time. Sometimes classes got in the way of our Goldeneye time, so they had to be skipped. (You’ve got to have your priorities straight, right?) The TV was on in that room for pretty much the entire weekend, every weekend. Diet and hygiene suffered, and I imagine grades did, too.
Eventually the guys living in the room figured out they had to impose some restrictions on things if they were going to maintain their sanity. “Office hours” were imposed, but those quickly got violated and the boundary lines got blurred. Then Tom secured the game cartridge in his locked drawer, but he either wanted to play single player or someone always managed to talk him into taking it back out. What eventually worked was the two guys taking the “submarine missile launch protocol” approach. They took separate key components (like the cartridge and the console’s power cord) and locked them in their respective drawers. That way, both guys had to consent to playing before they got everything back out and anyone was able to play again.
Can you imagine being so hooked on something that you can’t cope with the idea of going a day or two without it? Maybe you know exactly what this is like. Maybe you’re struggling with cutting back on or cutting off something you know you need to get away from. You’ve maybe even given it a try, but found it’s too difficult to escape its orbit for very long.
As much as you don’t want to hear it, your fastest way to make progress is probably to ask for some help with your struggle. Someone else is able to see things you can’t, be strong when you’re not, and provide a helpful, steady hand when your resolve is all over the place. Remove yourself from the areas of temptation you’re struggling with, and intentionally impose obstacles that will make it more difficult to misuse the thing you’re thinking about.
(By the way, toward the end of college as we all explored different interests and moved out of the dorms, the Goldeneye craze died out. Sometime before we all graduated I went to Tom and offered to buy it from him. He sold me everything but the Goldeneye game itself, but I got its sister game, Perfect Dark (which had some of the same levels), and I still have it more than 20 years later. Every now and then I pull it out of mothballs and play for nostalgia’s sake.)