![]() ![]() All that matters is the pursuit of sweet, sweet points. Real life is an infinitely open-ended mystery, but games are universes in which the rules are known, our choices are limited, and “meaning” isn’t something to fuss over. Games boil these mechanics down to their most simplistic. School grades, social-media likes, and employee-performance reviews are all forms of quantification that turn people into data and use scores to shape behavior. I began to wonder if my spontaneous parenting experiment was a cheat code.įor adults and kids alike, there’s little escaping points systems in modern life. (A few hours later, I discovered Paige offering Millicent 10 XP to clean the foyer-an exorbitant, game-breaking amount, but I digress.) She had a point: The game was startlingly effective and a lot of fun, but it worked almost too well. She had in mind a long line of social-psychology research suggesting that “extrinsic rewards”-perks such as points, stickers, sweets, and money-dampen “intrinsic motivation,” a person’s desire to do something because they want to, not because someone is giving them a cookie to do it. Rewards, Paige explained, come with drawbacks. “I don’t know how I feel about points,” she told me in the hallway. By this point, we were four days and nearly a dozen levels deep into the XP game. One evening, Oliver (age 5, Level 7, wizard) brought me a drawing of a heart captioned I LOVE YOU and said, imploringly, “ X-peeeee?”Īfter we stopped laughing, Paige gave me her best “let’s chat” look. The mermaid Millicent was quietly determined to earn the “Insomniac” ability, which allowed her to stay up late with the adults. John, the 6-year-old superhero, refrained from starting WWE-style brawls in the living room, eager for the “King of Sugar” power-up. In the following days, they helped with the dishes (three XP), held the door for strangers (five XP), and complimented me, the bestower of points, constantly (. ![]() With points on the line, the kids’ behavior was suddenly impeccable. LEVEL 15 (150 XP) : JOURNEY TO THE ARCADE: Redeem XP for $$!! LEVEL 10 (100 XP) - POWER-UPs: King/Queen of Sugar (extra dessert), Insomniac (stay up late), Teleportation (piggyback ride) LEVEL 5 (50 XP) - CHARACTER CLASSES: Choose Your Own! The next day, I took a red marker and wrote out a leveling system on a sheet of construction paper. #System shock 2 first door code full#The children and I were co-authors of a silly tale full of mini quests, in which every “experience point”-or XP-inched the kids closer to rewards. Good behavior soon became an elaborate role-playing adventure, borrowing liberally from my favorite video games and fantasy tropes. Within minutes, downstairs was spotless the kids were beaming my wife, Paige, was in awe (or maybe shock) and I was feeling smug. “Three more XP for tidying the house-at 10 XP, you’ll reach Level 2!” “Whoever takes their plates to the sink gets one experience point!” “What would encourage me to clean up and play nice?” I wondered, trying to put myself in the shoes of a 6-year-old, not exactly a quantum leap for a man who loves jelly beans and plays Minecraft. Messes-both emotional and spaghetti-based-abounded. Yet by late June on vacation in New England, our rented house was overflowing with extended family, Lego pieces, and restless energy. I dealt with the usual conflicts-the I-wants, the but-whys, the it’s-my-turns-as I suspect most parents do: inconsistently, haphazardly, making it up, all the time. For the most part I parented by intuition. In April I became a stepdad to three amazing kids: two boys and a girl, ages 5, 6, and 8, respectively. It started three months earlier, when I dove headfirst into parenthood for the first time. I took a sip and announced, reflexively, “Delicious! One point for you!” He darted inside from the back porch, shouting to the other adventurers, “Two more points, and I’m at Level 9!” The boy with super-speed concocted fresh Spemonades-that’s one part Sprite, one part lemonade-for myself and a few lucky houseguests. The wizard drew crayon portraits in the Den of Tranquility. On a summer Nantucket afternoon, the 8-year-old mermaid queen organized the kitchen pantry. This article was featured in One Story to Read Today, a newsletter in which our editors recommend a single must-read from The Atlantic, Monday through Friday. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |