Exploring the therapeutic benefits of mobile gaming
Gamification has been shown to increase motivation and emotional resilience
Written by |
If someone had told me years ago that my most consistent daily workout would involve tapping a screen like a caffeinated woodpecker, I would’ve laughed. Yet here I am, a proud neuromyelitis optica spectrum disorder (NMOSD) patient of 16 years whose newest addiction is playing mobile games.
I play them everywhere: in waiting rooms, while receiving treatment, during work conferences, when someone else is driving, and occasionally while pretending to “listen deeply” on Zoom. They’ve become my digital fidget toy, the background noise of my life.
My current roster of games is eclectic enough to confuse any algorithm: Cooking Diary, where I run a restaurant with the efficiency of a sleep‑deprived octopus; Black Hole, where I swallow planets like a cosmic vacuum; Vita Mahjong, my memory’s personal boot camp; and Find Differences, which has turned me into a detective who can spot a missing pixel from across the room. These games demand time management, memory, strategy, and attention to detail, basically all the things NMOSD tries to steal from me on a bad day.
The thing is, I worry about my brain. Sixteen years of treatments, relapses, and medical plot twists will do that to you. So, while these games are fun, they’ve also become part of my unofficial wellness toolkit. No, mobile games are not a treatment for NMOSD, and I’m not about to replace my neurologist with a level‑up screen, but research on the topic is ongoing, and it’s possible these little apps could play a supportive role in the management of some symptoms, as well as cognitive rehabilitation and quality of life.
A pocket‑sized therapist
Take it from me, cognitive dysfunction is a reality with NMOSD, which affects attention, memory, processing speed, executive function, and all the things I need to remember where I put my keys or why I walked into a room. Mobile games challenge those same skills. The repetition, the adaptive difficulty, and the tiny dopamine hits when I win all help promote neuroplasticity. And unlike traditional paper‑based cognitive exercises, mobile games don’t make me feel like I’m trapped in a 1990s neuropsychology lab.
Then there’s the physical side of NMOSD, which can cause weakness, balance issues, spasticity, and coordination problems. Motion‑based and reaction-time games sneak in repetitive motor practice and hand‑eye coordination without feeling like “therapy homework.” I’m basically tricking myself into rehab, and honestly, I’m psyched every time I finish that next level.
Fatigue in NMOSD is another beast entirely. But mobile games fit perfectly into the low‑energy lifestyle. They’re short, self‑paced, and can be played while sitting, lying down, or draped dramatically across a couch like a Victorian poet. They give me something goal‑oriented to do when my body says “nope” but my brain wants a little stimulation.
A mental health plot twist
Living with NMOSD means navigating uncertainty, relapses, and the emotional roller coaster that comes with chronic illness. Depression, anxiety, and social withdrawal all like to hop on the ride with me. Mobile games become my tiny, surprisingly effective emotional support rectangles.
They’ve helped me more than I expected. They distract me from stressful situations, boost my mood with tiny digital rewards, and give me a sense of autonomy, because nothing says “I’m in control of my life” like successfully managing a virtual restaurant while my real‑life laundry forms a small mountain.
Sometimes, these games even provide me with manageable social interactions through multiplayer features. Exploding Kittens is my all‑time favorite, because it lets me sabotage my friends and family in a way that’s socially acceptable and doesn’t require actual physical energy.
Gamification has also been shown to increase motivation and emotional resilience in long‑term neurological rehab, which makes me feel slightly more justified when I beat a level at 2 a.m. Some days, that tiny victory feels like reclaiming a little piece of myself, one tap, swipe, or exploding cartoon feline at a time.
Of course, mobile games aren’t magic. They don’t replace disease‑modifying therapies. They won’t prevent relapses. And staring at a bright screen too long is never a good idea, especially if you’ve had optic neuritis. Used wisely, though, they’re a supportive, patient‑centered tool, and one piece of a much bigger medical and rehabilitation plan. Plus, they’re loads of fun.
Note: Neuromyelitis News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health providers with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Neuromyelitis News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to neuromyelitis optica spectrum disorder.
Leave a comment
Fill in the required fields to post. Your email address will not be published.