A woman in her 70s spends hours each day playing video games on her smartphone – Tetris, solitaire and slot-machine gambling titles – often while her adult children try to hold a conversation with her. Her family say the habit, which began in the 1990s after her husband bought a desktop computer, has left them feeling as though she is never fully present. “When I’m with Mum now, she always has her phone in her hand and will be playing a game even when I’m talking to her. I never feel I have her full attention,” one of her daughters wrote in a request for advice. The pattern extends to other relatives and was long dismissed as a family joke, but her children now believe it has damaged their relationship with her.
The situation worsened after the death of their father nearly four years ago. Their mother now often sits at home playing games, sometimes on several devices at once, and laughs off any concerns, insisting it is “not doing any harm”. Her daughter suspects the gaming is partly a way of coping with grief – her mother refuses to discuss the loss or seek support – but notes the habit began long before her father’s death, raising deeper questions about what might be driving the behaviour.
What lies beneath the screen
Psychotherapist Rebecca Harris, who manages the National Centre for Gaming Disorders (NCGD) in London, said she has seen similar cases in older people and believes the mother is likely avoiding something. “My view of addictions is that they often start as coping strategies – a way of managing something that then gets out of control,” she said. Harris, who also works with the National Problem Gambling Clinic and the Club Drug Clinic within the Central and North West London NHS Foundation Trust, urged the family to consider whether their mother was emotionally unavailable before the computer arrived in the 1990s.
The NCGD, which opened in October 2019, is the UK’s only dedicated clinic for treating gaming disorders and supports individuals aged 13 and over in England and Wales. It reported a surge in referrals in 2022 – up by more than half on the previous year – with a 46% increase in calls from family members worried about a relative’s gaming. Although the average age of a patient treated at the clinic is 17, Harris stressed that older people are not immune. Gaming disorder, recognised in the World Health Organization’s ICD-11 classification, is defined by impaired control over gaming, prioritising it above other interests, and continuing despite negative consequences.
Even games that appear benign, such as solitaire and Tetris, can become addictive because of their accessibility, simple rules and variable rewards, which trigger the brain’s dopamine system and create a cycle of seeking pleasure and escape. Slot-machine games are especially potent, designed with immediate feedback and intermittent prizes that encourage prolonged play. Tetris has even been studied for its ability to occupy the brain’s imagery-creating processes, reducing cravings for substances and helping with PTSD flashbacks – a phenomenon known as the “Tetris effect”. For this mother, the games may serve as a way to block out difficult emotions, including unresolved grief and whatever emotional unavailability predated her husband’s death.
Harris proposed a simple yardstick to assess whether the behaviour amounts to a true addiction: “Would that person stop the behaviour if a better offer came along?” If she would, it may be a strong preference rather than an addiction. But if the gaming is driven by a need to escape pain, as Harris suspects, removing it without addressing the underlying feelings could backfire. “I’d be careful of trying to remove it completely, because if the feelings aren’t dealt with she will find another way of ‘numbing’,” she warned.
The challenge for the family, Harris said, is to approach the subject with compassion rather than criticism. Because the gaming serves a function – whether managing grief, stress or deeper emotional avoidance – their mother is likely to be defensive. She advised shifting the conversation away from the games themselves and towards spending time together in ways that make being on the phone unviable: going out, doing something she enjoys, asking what she liked before the screens took over. The bigger question, Harris added, is what underlying issue the behaviour is masking, and what role their father played in the family dynamic before his death.
Where to find help
The family can let their mother know about the National Centre for Gaming Disorders, which offers assessment, cognitive behavioural therapy, group and family therapy, and peer support. Referrals can be made by local NHS services or online via the clinic’s website, and treatment is delivered mostly online, making it accessible across England.
For those concerned about gambling elements in the mother’s gaming – particularly the slot-machine games – support is available through the NHS National Problem Gambling Clinic (020 7381 7722) and GamCare’s free, confidential National Gambling Helpline (0808 8020 133), which operates 24 hours a day. Additional resources include GambleAware’s National Gambling Support Network, Breathing Space (0800 83 85 87, open weekdays 6pm-2am and weekends 6pm Friday to 6am Monday), Gam-Anon for family members, and Gamblers Anonymous for 12-step recovery. In the US, the National Council on Problem Gambling can be reached on 1-800-MY-RESET; in Australia, Gambling Help Online is available on 1800 858 858 and the National Debt Helpline on 1800 007 007.