As a parent, I have to confess that my sons enjoy first-person shooter games. It’s a realization that leaves me feeling somewhat conflicted. While I advocate for gun control and have historically been opposed to anything resembling violent play, my perspective has evolved over the years. I once stood firmly against toy guns and was horrified by the “pew-pew” sounds made by toddlers in parks. I vividly recall a moment when a child transformed a balloon sword into a balloon gun, only for his grandmother to remark, “I didn’t allow my son to play with guns, and now he’s a cop.” That day, I handed my own 3-year-old a balloon sword/gun without hesitation. It’s a blend of nature and nurture that has shaped my approach.
Fast forward 12 years and another son later, and now our household is filled with Nerf guns and video games. I haven’t actively encouraged gun play or gaming, but I haven’t prohibited them either. As long as they’re not hurting each other, I’ve allowed my boys—aged 15 and 10—to engage in both video games and their toy weaponry, just as they do with bikes and balls. For the record, they are not permitted to play anything rated above “E 10+” or “Teen.” This means no extreme violence, bloodshed, sexual content, or strong language (which they’d probably just attribute to me anyway).
What began as harmless pixelated bows and arrows has now evolved into strikingly realistic representations of firearms. Admittedly, I’m both embarrassed and a bit amazed that my sons can name countless types of armor, weapons, and ammunition (I suppose they are learning something!). I realize this may sound alarming. To complicate matters, we are part of a charter school community that discourages electronic media use. While such games aren’t promoted at school, I know other families who monitor their children’s video consumption to varying extents. We’re not the only ones, yet for some, even Minecraft is deemed too violent.
Personally, I miss the days of Minecraft. Once, I vowed never to allow my children to watch or play anything I hadn’t explored myself. Now, I find myself wishing my blind eye could revert to the relatively harmless escapism of Minecraft. In a world rife with challenges, we often justify embracing lesser evils.
I understand the appeal of these first-person shooter games. They provide exhilarating adventures across imaginative landscapes from a first-person perspective, and they serve as vital social outlets, especially for teenagers. Being part of a sniper team with friends can be thrilling, even if there are alternatives that don’t involve virtual violence. However, it seems that shooting at things adds an element of excitement that they find irresistible.
I find myself watching them play with my arms crossed, frequently bombarded with their enthusiastic explanations. I can’t help but feel like the worst mother ever, standing on a platform of peace and love, while my children engage in virtual combat. Should I unplug the console? Erase their game library? Yell at them? Demand they stick to something wholesome like Wii Sports or Dance Dance Revolution?
At this point, my children are deeply invested in their gaming experiences. It would seem hypocritical of me to suddenly deny them access to what’s currently the most popular game. After all, if the beta version is captivating and widely played, who am I to cut them off? I’m merely their mother.
As their mom, I know them well. Ultimately, I’ve come to realize they are good kids. They’re kind, thoughtful, and happy. They achieve good grades, complete their chores (albeit with varying degrees of persuasion), maintain friendships, and are dedicated athletes. They still enjoy outdoor play and the occasional board game, exhibiting a sound sense of common sense.
What happens in the game appears to remain contained within that digital world. Perhaps I’m deluding myself, but they seem capable of compartmentalizing their gaming experiences from their day-to-day lives and usually adhere to time limits when asked.
Am I simply easing the guilt I feel about allowing them to engage with these games? Possibly. Am I neglecting my responsibility as a parent by permitting them to experience virtual violence? I hope not. I want to believe that my children are not the ones who will act out such behaviors in real life. But isn’t that a belief many parents share? “Not my kid!” We can’t all be right, so where do we draw the line?
I’ve openly shared my concerns about real-world gun violence and gun safety with my children. They are aware of the responsible gun use within my husband’s family, and they respond with understanding: “It’s okay, Mom; we know it’s not real.”
While I recognize the possibility that they may be playing me as much as the game itself, I genuinely want to trust them. Still, I grapple with unease amid the current climate surrounding gun issues. I feel like a hypocrite at times, but I remain vigilant, enforce time limits, and engage in meaningful interactions with them. I ask them to join in a puzzle, play a game, cook together, draw, or simply snuggle. Sometimes, I even hope they’ll build something imaginative in Minecraft.
Summary
As a parent, I navigate the complexities of allowing my children to play violent video games while advocating for peace and understanding the implications of gun violence. Ultimately, I believe that my sons, who are kind and responsible, can compartmentalize their gaming experiences and maintain a balanced life.