Here's a conversation I've had more times than I can count: A parent sits across from me, exhausted, describing a child who hasn't left their room in days except to grab food. The curtains are permanently drawn. The sound of gunfire or fantasy battle music bleeds through the door at all hours. When they try to talk about it, they're met with either silence or explosive anger.
"Is this normal?" they ask. "All their friends game. I don't want to overreact."
It's a fair question. Gaming has become so woven into youth culture that distinguishing between enthusiasm and disorder can feel impossible. But at Lions Campus, where we support teens and young adults with mental health challenges, we're seeing this question take on increasing urgency. Internet Gaming Disorder isn't a moral panic—it's a genuine concern that's affecting an entire generation in ways we're only beginning to understand.
Let's establish something crucial upfront: gaming isn't inherently bad. Most people who game don't develop a problem. The vast majority of young people can play for hours on weekends, get excited about new releases, and still function perfectly well in their lives. Gaming offers genuine benefits—problem-solving skills, social connection, stress relief, and even creativity.
But for some young people, gaming stops being a hobby and becomes something else entirely. Something that looks less like entertainment and more like compulsion. And the numbers are significant enough that we can't afford to dismiss this as rare or overblown.
Research shows higher rates of problematic gaming among adolescents and young adults compared to other age groups. Male adolescents and young adults are particularly vulnerable, with some studies showing prevalence rates around 15.4% in males compared to 6.4% in females. However, concerns are increasingly emerging among female gamers, particularly around mobile and social gaming platforms that have exploded in popularity. This isn't random. There are real, identifiable reasons why this demographic is at heightened risk.
Think about what's happening in the brain and life of a teenager. Their prefrontal cortex—the part responsible for impulse control, decision-making, and weighing long-term consequences—continues developing well into their twenties. While "age 25" is often cited as when this region fully matures, neuroscience research shows this is more of a general trend than a hard deadline, with significant individual variation. The key point is that during late adolescence and early adulthood, the brain's executive control systems are still maturing. At the same time, they're navigating arguably the most psychologically demanding transition of their lives.
They're separating from family, often for the first time. They're constructing identity in real-time, trying to figure out who they are beyond the roles assigned to them by parents, schools, and childhood circumstances. Many are dealing with social anxiety, academic pressure, or the terrifying question of what they're supposed to do with their entire future. And then there's the simple fact of being in a new environment—whether that's university, first job, or just the liminal space of "emerging adulthood"—where old support systems may no longer apply.
Into this vulnerable moment comes gaming: immersive, rewarding, social, and—crucially—completely controllable in a way that real life isn't. You can be powerful in a game. You can be successful. You can belong. The feedback is immediate, the progress is measurable, and unlike the messy uncertainty of real-world achievement, gaming offers clear goals and guaranteed rewards for effort.
It's not hard to see the appeal. It's also not hard to see how it can become a trap.
Internet Gaming Disorder isn't just about playing a lot. We see plenty of young people who game extensively but maintain balance in their lives. Gaming Disorder is about loss of control—when gaming stops being a choice and starts being a compulsion that overrides everything else.
Here are the key warning signs to watch for:
Preoccupation: Gaming dominates their thoughts even when they're not playing. They're thinking about the game during lectures, conversations, meals. They're mentally planning their next session, strategising about in-game goals, or feeling anxious about what they're missing while offline.
Withdrawal symptoms: When unable to play, they become irritable, anxious, or genuinely distressed. This isn't just disappointment—it's a dysregulated emotional response that feels out of proportion to the situation.
Tolerance: They need to spend increasing amounts of time gaming to feel satisfied. What started as an hour or two has crept to four, six, eight hours or more. They've lost track of how much time has passed, and when you point it out, they're often genuinely surprised.
Loss of other interests: Activities they used to enjoy—sports, music, reading, time with friends—have fallen away. Gaming has crowded out everything else, not because other things aren't available, but because they've genuinely lost interest in anything that isn't gaming.
Continuing despite consequences: This is perhaps the most telling sign. They keep gaming even when it's causing obvious problems. They're failing university modules, losing jobs, damaging relationships—and they still can't stop.
Deception: They lie about how much time they're spending gaming. They minimise it to you, hide it from partners, or play in secret. The secrecy itself indicates they know it's become problematic but feel unable to address it.
Escape: They're using games primarily to avoid negative feelings or difficult situations rather than for genuine enjoyment. Gaming has become their only way to cope with stress, anxiety, loneliness, or depression.
Here's what Internet Gaming Disorder typically looks like in practice:
Academic and work problems: University students whose grades have plummeted because they're gaming instead of studying. Young adults who've been fired from jobs due to exhaustion or absence. School-leavers who can't launch into college or careers because gaming has become their full-time occupation.
Sleep disruption: The classic pattern is gaming all night and sleeping all day. Their circadian rhythm has completely flipped. When you try to normalise their schedule, it causes genuine distress because it means less gaming time.
Social withdrawal: They've stopped seeing friends in person, only maintaining connections through games. Family meals are refused or endured with visible impatience. Romantic relationships deteriorate because their partner can't compete with the pull of the game.
Physical health changes: Weight changes from either not eating or constantly snacking at their desk. Poor hygiene because showering takes time away from gaming. Wrist or hand pain, eye strain, and headaches. They look exhausted even after sleeping for hours.
Emotional volatility: Explosive anger when interrupted while gaming. Using games as their only way to regulate emotions. The rest of their life has a flat, depressed quality, but they become animated only when discussing or playing games.
Financial concerns: Spending excessive amounts on in-game purchases, new equipment, or subscriptions. Sometimes neglecting bills or other responsibilities to fund their gaming.
Here's something crucial that often gets missed in these conversations: sometimes excessive gaming is a symptom, not the root problem.
A depressed teenager might game excessively because they're depressed, not the other way around. The gaming is filling the void left by the inability to feel pleasure in normal activities. Address the depression, and the gaming often reduces naturally because they regain interest in other parts of life.
Research consistently shows strong associations between ADHD and gaming disorder, with studies indicating that young people with ADHD may have significantly higher rates of problematic gaming compared to their peers. Young people with ADHD are particularly drawn to games because they provide the stimulation and immediate feedback their brains crave. Games are designed to hit the dopamine system in exactly the way ADHD brains respond to. This pattern might respond better to ADHD support than gaming-focused intervention alone.
For autistic young people, the picture is more nuanced. Research shows elevated rates of intensive gaming in autistic individuals, but it's crucial to distinguish between gaming disorder and restricted interests—a core feature of autism. Gaming can be a comfortable way to socialise and engage with special interests. The structured nature of games, the clear rules, the ability to connect with others around a shared interest without the unpredictability of face-to-face socialising—this might actually be more adaptive than problematic. However, when gaming interferes with functioning and causes distress, it should be treated as a distinct concern requiring appropriate support.
It is important to ask, "Is gaming causing problems in their life, or is it a symptom of other problems that already exist?"
We're still dealing with patterns that started during lockdowns. For months, gaming was often the only way teens could socialise. The pandemic fundamentally changed gaming culture. For many young people, games became a crucial social lifeline when everything else was shut down.
But for others, they became an escape that spiralled into dependency. And now, years later, those patterns have calcified into habits that are incredibly difficult to break.
Today's games are also more sophisticated than ever. They're designed by teams of psychologists and behavioural economists who understand exactly how to keep players engaged. Reward systems, daily challenges, limited-time events, social pressures from teammates or guild members—all of these create genuine difficulty in stepping away. It's not just about willpower. The games themselves are engineered to be hard to quit.
If your child's gaming escalated during the pandemic and never came back down, that context matters. It's worth having conversations about readjusting now that life has opened back up, acknowledging that what was adaptive during lockdown might not be serving them anymore.
If you're concerned about your child's gaming, here are some starting points:
Have conversations, not confrontations. "I've noticed you're spending a lot of time gaming, and I'm worried about how it's affecting your sleep/grades/mood" works better than "You're addicted and you need to stop."
Explore motivations together. Ask them what they get from gaming. Are they playing for fun, for social connection, or to escape something? Understanding the "why" helps you address the real issue.
Set boundaries collaboratively. Work with them to decide on time limits, but do it before gaming sessions start, not in the moment. "Let's agree on two hours tonight" is more effective than trying to get them to stop once they're already playing.
Help them diversify activities. Don't just take gaming away—help them find other things that provide similar rewards. If they game for social connection, how can they get that elsewhere? If it's about achievement and progress, what other goals might engage them?
Maintain real-world connections. Encourage activities that get them out of their room and interacting face-to-face with people. This doesn't have to be big—even a regular coffee shop visit or walk counts.
Address underlying issues. If gaming is masking depression, anxiety, ADHD, or social difficulties, those need support too. Gaming might be the visible problem, but it's rarely the only problem.
Seek professional support. If gaming is seriously interfering with their ability to function—if they're missing school or exams, losing jobs, or their mental health is deteriorating—it's time to get external help. This isn't something you can or should handle alone.
Many young people can play extensively and still live balanced, functional lives. Gaming is part of their culture in a way it wasn't part of previous generations, and that's okay.
But for the subset who do develop problematic patterns, early intervention makes an enormous difference. The longer these patterns continue, the more entrenched they become, and the harder they are to shift.
Trust your instincts. If something feels wrong—if your previously engaged child has withdrawn into gaming to the exclusion of everything else, if their personality seems to have changed, if they seem genuinely unable to stop despite wanting to—don't dismiss your concerns just because "all kids game these days."
They might need help. And asking for that help isn't overreacting. It's exactly what they need you to do.
At Lions Campus, we specialise in supporting young people with mental health challenges, including those related to gaming and internet use. If you're concerned about your child and need guidance on next steps, we're here to help. Contact us now for a free and confidential talk.