Obsession

When I was just getting into high school I loved to play Travian, a massively multiplayer online (MMO) video game. You started with a medieval village of a tribe you selected and had to construct and upgrade buildings or resource fields to prosper, until you were able to research and train an army to fight battles with and/or against other (real) players. The crux of this game was, that it did not end after an hour or two. No, it lasted months!

Constructing buildings took hours or even days, troops travelled for minutes or hours, based on the distance and their speed. So I used every single second I could, accessing a computer to log onto my account and take care of my village, distributing resources or sending orders. I always tried to grow faster than any of my neighbours, so I could outnumber them with my army and loot their silos. However, there is always a bigger fish, so eventually a stronger player attacked me and, if they felt like it, burned my town to the ground.

Having had school during the time plus 4 to 5 days of soccer per week I stood no chance against players that worked in offices, capable of regularly logging into the game. Activity was the biggest advantage one could get. And so, I learned to not bother resisting. Instead, I picked a different, newer world (server) and began anew, repeating the hopeless undertaking.

But during all this, I still very much enjoyed the game. Especially the feeling of a new start, founding a new village, repeating the beginner’s quests, scouting my new neighbors, and dicovering the unknown was mesmerizing to my younger self. Over the years, I developed the habit of enjoying fresh starts. A blank canvas, a fresh task, was all I needed to lose myself in the moment and devote my whole attention to it. Once I knew how to solve the problem, the subject lost its mistery, its magic. It became a tidious chore and the obsession faded. It was less the challenge and failure that made me quit, but the boredom.

Long-term growth vs. fast-paced cognition

Over the years I learned that sticking to a skill is part of what makes you great at it. School forced my to learn a subject for at least a quarter. In university I had to attend courses for a semester, and for my thesis I had to manifest a topic for about a year. In my current job, I am sticking to a project for over a year now.

At the same time, I picked up small hobbies or new skills, that were just as quickly dropped as my Travian villages burned down. The limiting factor, however, is not a stronger player, with more free time than me, but the way I approach the learning process. Sticking to the obsessive behavior I developed as a child, I find myself learning or developing new skills for hours and days. Sleepless nights turn the exploration into an unpleasant experience, which affects my interest in sticking to the newly acquired skill. They might lead to the fact that I finish a 28 weeks course in just 4 weeks, whilst still studying and working 20 hours a week. But this behaviour is also the reason my guitar is covered in dust or that my chess.com account has been sitting idle for a while.

Resolution

I need to pace myself, not only enjoying the process of learning (and failure) but also the moment itself. My mind needs to stay curious about the things I do, and for that, I cannot instantly nose dive, where there might be no water — yet.

Having read Atomic Habits, by James Clear, I know that persistance and consistency outweighs anything else when it comes to mastering a skill. Creating habits that make sure that you show up every day are only possible if something is enjoyable, if you connect them to other habits, and if you surround yourself with like-minded people. Unfortunately, none of my friends plays the guitar, or plays chess on the same level as me. On the other side, I have played 20 years of my life at soccer clubs and, just like with university, I know how beneficial it is to have the obligation of showing up to every practice, or every lecture. A group of friends makes every duty worthwhile, even if you sometimes don’t feel like doing it.

A different approach

During the first lockdown of the pandemic, I picked up Travian again. But instead of going straight at it, I looked on forums to join an alliance of players beforehand (so I knew where to settle my village). In Travian you could create an alliance where players (not necessarily of the same tribe) could join forces. The people I joined were a big community on Discord. They had meetings to strategize against bigger alliances where everyone could voice their opinion and vote for upcoming decisions. Meetings on who attack next and when, or how to reallocate resources amongst players. If someone had a tough time and needed to rebuild, everyone nearby had to help.

I reached a stage of strength in the game that I have never reached before, and all whilst having very much fun. I met so many new people, including some mentally unstable but very funny ones. When the lockdown was loosened, and structure came back to my life, I had to say goodbye to my community, before they took over my villages.

My life is not a village that needs to outperform everyone in striking distance, but it has to grow and develop constantly. A healthy way of doing so is the key to sucess here. I think that is something that can be achieved with patience and a group of friends, an alliance, that I can share my experience with. A community that can provide guidance, but also holds me accountable to be consistent and help out others as well, so that their villages can also grow.