Humaginarium modulates playing and learning so transparently that consumers don’t know or care which experience they’re having in the moment. They care only about winning and they know when they reach the pinnacle. What happens next?
That’s a choice. Some consumers play again at higher levels of difficulty and challenge, or with different people. Others change course for a completely separate challenge and experience. Still others exit the entertainment and make use of what they learned in real life. How does that happen?
It starts with self-assessment of health and lifestyle risks typical of illness battled in a just-played game. By completing an intelligent questionnaire, individuals enable our back end system to identify vulnerabilities and threats in their environment, medical history, and genetic phenotype. The assessment produces a kind of living quest map with critical branches.
The next step is to design a choice architecture based on a personal quest map. The architecture computes formative and summative impacts of choices on an adjustable timeline. Shorter and longer term outcomes are modeled by altering choices. It’s plain to see that no quest map produces immortality and freedom from pain, but at the same time regular folks can discover far more control over symptoms and outcomes than they ever thought possible.
The penultimate step is to make a resolution. Fiddling with choice architecture heightens self-awareness and the sense of personal responsibility for illness and wellness. Resolution cements hard and easy choices into a promise, like the New Year’s resolution we make and break year after year. What’s different about this?
The fantasy novelist Ursula K. Le Guin has an answer. She writes that “need alone is not enough to set power free: there must be knowledge.” In other words, one’s need to lead a longer, healthier life is inconsequential unless it is based on understanding, the deeper the better. In matters of illness and wellness, that’s understanding of one’s body. Not just what it looks like and how it feels, but how it works and grows; how it avoids and overcomes adversity; how it decays and fails. Precisely the things that are observed and learned while playing for hours and hours in Humaginarium.
Knowledge rather than yearning positions resolution for success. Along with knowledge comes sentiment such as courage, resilience, curiosity, conation. Every neuron plays a role in one’s destiny, and individuals who understand that are more likely to keep a resolution.
The logic here is tight yet incomplete. It still leaves people vulnerable to a threat that dates back to Ancient Greece and is more common than ever in a depressed and depressing world. It’s the Sisyphean Condition.
People who confront and master a chronic illness in Humaginarium are not cured. People who self-assess, design a choice architecture, and make a brave resolution continue to struggle, rolling their own immense boulder to the top of a hill where it inevitably rolls down another side. Does that make them futile? No. Foolish? I don’t think so because now they understand their struggle; they know where their controls are; and in the spirit of Albert Camus, they have captured meaning and purpose in a world that can seem, to people with a chronic illness, utterly cruel and indifferent.
The final step after resolution is community building. Individuals who have played, learned, assessed, designed, and resolved are still pretty much on their own. We can’t leave them there and expect the best outcomes. Instead we invite them to join self-assembling communities of interest on our social network where personal decision-making continues with those who care deeply about each other. Which is just about everybody who has or treats a chronic illness.