I have a little secret: my sons are avid players of first-person shooter games. As much as I wish I felt completely at ease with this, I often find myself wrestling with mixed feelings. You see, I’m a strong advocate for gun control. I’m the kind of mom who used to cringe at the thought of toy guns, and I’ve always been skeptical about violence in media. Memories flood back of that one day at the park when a grandmother told me, “I didn’t let my son have toy guns, and now he’s a police officer.” That comment hit home, and suddenly I found myself handing my then 3-year-old a balloon sword that he promptly turned into a balloon gun.
Fast forward 12 years and another son later, and we now navigate a world filled with Nerf guns and video games. I’m not promoting gun play or gaming, at least not overtly, but I also haven’t put my foot down against them. As long as they’re not causing any real harm to each other, I let my boys—ages 15 and 10—enjoy their gaming and toy weaponry just as they do with their bikes and balls. For clarity, I should mention they’re not allowed to play anything rated above “E 10+” or “Teen.” This means no intense violence, blood, or strong language (though I’m sure they think it’s just me talking sometimes).
What began as harmless pixelated gameplay has morphed into hyper-realistic representations of firearms. I feel a mix of shame and awe as my sons can name various types of weapons, armor, and ammo. It’s a bit alarming, yet I can’t help but acknowledge they’re learning something, right?
I know this sounds troubling, especially since we’re part of a charter school community that largely shuns electronic media. While it’s not encouraged at school, I recognize that other families have varying degrees of acceptance when it comes to video games. Surprisingly, some even consider Minecraft too violent! I find myself longing for the simpler days when Minecraft was their main interest. Back in my pre-motherhood days, I swore I would only let my kids engage with media I had personally vetted.
I completely understand the appeal of first-person shooter games. They provide an exhilarating adventure through captivating landscapes from a unique perspective. Nowadays, they also serve as a key social outlet for teens. Being part of a sniper team or a rebel faction with friends can be incredibly appealing. Sure, there are plenty of ways to bond without shooting, but for some reason, pulling the trigger seems to pack more excitement.
As I watch them play, I feel a twinge of guilt. Here I am, a mom who stands for peace and against the NRA, yet my children are unleashing virtual chaos on-screen. What should I do? Unplug the system? Delete the games? Scream for them to stick to something like Wii Sports or Dance Dance Revolution?
At this point, it would feel hypocritical to cut them off from something that’s become so integral to their lives. If the beta version of a game is this engaging, who am I to deny them that experience? Yes, I’m their mom, and I know them well. After much contemplation, I’ve come to this conclusion: they are fundamentally good kids. They’re kind, thoughtful, and maintain good grades. They do their chores (with varying degrees of persuasion), are great friends, and enjoy team sports. They still play outside, engage with board games, and exhibit a decent amount of common sense.
What happens in the digital realm seems to stay in the digital realm. Maybe I’m fooling myself, but they appear to compartmentalize their gaming experiences from their daily lives and usually respect the time limits I set for them.
Am I just alleviating my own guilt for allowing them to play these games? Perhaps. Am I ignoring my responsibility to prevent my sons from engaging with virtual violence, fearing it might spark some real-life impulse? I hope not. Like any parent, I want to believe my kids are different, but don’t we all think that? “Not my kid!” becomes the mantra. So where do we draw the line?
I’ve had open discussions with my sons about real-world gun violence and gun safety while also recognizing the responsible gun ownership that exists in my husband’s family. They listen and, surprisingly, express empathy towards my concerns, reassuring me that they understand it’s not real.
I know they might be playing me as much as the game itself, but I choose to trust them. Still, I grapple with unease regarding the current climate surrounding guns in our country. Despite my worries, I remain vigilant. I enforce time limits, nurture our relationship, and often ask them to engage in activities beyond gaming—like puzzles or cooking.
In the end, I hope they can find the balance between virtual adventure and real-life connections.
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Summary:
Navigating the complexities of allowing children to play violent video games can be challenging for parents. While concerns about real-life violence and the impact of gaming are valid, many parents find that their children are capable of compartmentalizing their gaming experiences. Open communication about gun safety and societal issues can help ease parental concerns, while maintaining a balance between gaming and real-life interactions is essential for healthy development.
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