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By Kyle Starr

Adam Grant's Mario Kart Theory of Peak Flow

Flow has bubbled up to my attention through the book ”Designing Your Life” by Bill Burnett and Dave Evans, as well as various TED talks and podcasts. I’m currently listening to the audiobook ”Flow” by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi.

Outside of identifying flow for future career growth, I’m also intriuied by the idea of “flow” combating “languishing”. In the spirit of this blog and its focus on video games, I wanted to share two fun ideas I came across when searching Overcast for the term “languishing”, coincidentally within minutes of one another…

Adam Grant, TEDMonterey:

Like many of you, [during the pandemic] we were isolated from our extended family. My sister was halfway across the country. One day, we were reminiscing about how much we loved playing Mario Kart as we were kids. She said, “Well, we could all play together online now. WHy don’t we start a family game?”

Soon we were playing every day with a video call running at the same time. After a couple of weeks, I stopped feeling so blah. I was living zen in the art of Mario Kart. In the mornings, our kids were asking what time we’d play. They loved it when I would gloat about an impending victory, only to be bombed by a flying blue shell only to just sit there watching all three of our kids drive past me to the finish line in tiny go-carts.

We had so much fun that we started a new Satuday night tradition after the kids were asleep: Adult Mario Kart.

After reflecting on that experience, I’m proud to present to you for the first time my Mario Kart theory of peak flow. It has three conditions: mastery, mindfulness, and mattering.

Stop here and take 15 minutes to watch the talk. Lots of good stuff here.

This all explains why Mario Kart was such a great experience for me.

It gave me a feeling of mastery. The sweet satisfaction of a perfectly placed banana peel for my sister to slip on.

It required mindfulness too. My brother-in-law was the best player. Beating him demanded total concentration. Especially when my kids were ganging up with him against me.

And it wasn’t just a game. It mattered. Over the past year, we’ve all felt helpless in one way or another. I felt helpless to fix COVID. I couldn’t even do that much to make online school better, and I’m a teacher. But in Mario Kart, I felt helpful. I was able to give my kids something to look forward to when we couldn’t go anywhere. I was able to keep my family close when we were far apart.

We normally think of flow as an individual experience, by playing Nintendo, we were all immersed together. And although we don’t play daily anymore, I feel closer to my sister and my brother-in-law than I ever have before. I learned that love is not the frequency of communication. It’s the depth of connection. I also realized that the antidote to languishing does not have to be something productive. It can be something joyful. Our peak moments of flow are having fun with the people we love.

And the other conversation:

Corey Keyes, Good Life Project podcast:

When I learned about why pinball machines were created, I was astonished to find out that the man, the person who created pinball, created it because he wanted people to experience during the Great Depression the sense that what they do matters. And to enjoy life because they can get better at accomplishing things and making things happen in the world.

And that’s what pinball, the whole story of pinball is. And the man who saved pinball, that movie and book, is all about showing the people in Chicago that it wasn’t gambling, it wasn’t a game of chance, it was a game that you develop skill. Yes you had fun, yes you had to put a little money in there, but he showed them.

I learned to get better at something and I learned that whatever I can focus my mind on and do, I can accomplish something. So out of all the things you would think that could lead to that play, can teach your children and continue to teach adults that what you do matters.

Yeah, I love that and I’ve been actively trying to cultivate more opportunities for play in my “for all those reasons, you know. I think it’s just, we leave it behind, like sometimes forgetting that it’s really fun to do things for no other reason than the feeling it gives you in the moment. And then if you can actually, you know, like build skill around that and gain competence at it also, you know.

Connection and all those other.

I mean, you look at the world of online gaming these days, and I’m not a part of that world, but I know folks who are. And they will spend hours and hours and not getting paid to do this. In fact, you know, they’re paying for the privilege of having access to the games and the machines and, and yet it’s just, and it’s effort.

They’re working hard, you know, they’re probably working harder from a sort of a creativity and a cognitive and a collaborative standpoint than they may be doing at their jobs. And yet they’re doing it simply because they love doing it. You know, it’s to them, it is that thing.

It’s play and they get better at it over time and they do it with other people, you know, and it’s“there’s something kind of magical about it.

I don’t necessarily find it surprising for video games to make their way into conversations of flow. Most consider video games to be a medium that delivers the fastest path to flow. But hearing two smart folks express why that is was quite fun.

Nothing overly earthshattering here. It’s just neat to hear “serious” people bring up games in “serious” talks.

”I won’t cry if you leave.”

“I won’t cry if you leave.”

I left.

She cried.

Détante.

Reset tomorrow.

Those words stung. Not because I’d never heard them before. Because she’s now in preschool.

For the past week, I’ve been baffled by my emotions. Confused. Heightened. Anxious. Excited. Scared.

“I won’t cry if you leave.”

This is one of my biggest fears. In context, it’s a bedtime fit. I’m upset because she seems to have regressed into several potty accidents per day. I raise my voice. I take away books and toys. I’m disappointed and frustrated. She doubles-back with threats of her own.

“I won’t cry if you leave [my room at bedtime].”

It feels like a clear jab at the fact that she does not cry for us when she enters preschool each day. Something I’m proud of.

It’s a few hours a day, but it’s clear: this is the beginning of leaving her exposed to a world that is not overseen by me. She is not aided by me. She is not guided by me. She is not protected by me.

Today, at an older girl’s birthday party, I guard her spot in line from bigger kids; shielded her from bigger kids during a piñata rush; encouraged her to sit with the bigger kids during cupcakes. I’m cognizant of her hearing aides. Is she she’s overwhelmed? Can she hear the kids around her? Is she spatially aware of what’s going on? I’m proud when she leans into her independence, hurriedly leaving the crowds for scaling playgrounds bigger than she ought to for new and exciting slides. Maybe I should let her fend for herself more often. But then there’s the accidents. Maybe she still needs me.

“I won’t cry if you leave.”

It’s all too real when she tells me this when she’s upset with me. When she wants to prove her independence. And it’s all too real when she doesn’t cry when she leaves me for preschool — for a world that is not mine to oversee.

’I just want more portrait mode games on my iPhone.’

Brendon Bigley and Stephen Hilger, Into the Aether Podcast: S7E48 - “BB’s Romhack Shack”:

Brendon Bigley: I just want more portrait mode games on my iPhone.

Stephen Hilger: Yeah, that’s the dream.

BB: That’s the dream. That’s what we’re always saying on this podcast. The whole reason we started the podcast.

Hello and welcome to Into the Aether.

SH: Jean d’Arc definitive edition in portrait mode.

BB: Honestly, it’s amazing. Just thinking about that, it’s amazing that all of the Dragon Quest games are available in portrait mode on iOS.

SH: That’s for you.

BB: And it’s so wild that they did that. Yeah, even VII. Like they have a port.

It’s so wild.

Couldn’t agree more. Single-handed portrait-mode games, if I may add.

Post Games: A new podcast by former Polygon Editor-in-Chief Chris Plante

Are you missing Polygon as much as I am? Do you appreciate in-depth journalism about niche topics with your hobby of choice? Do you like tightly edited podcasts with clear structure? Are you a fan of personality, interviews, and well-crafted story? Are you addicted to gaming podcasts because you have very little time to play yourself and/or you might just love the conversation around games more than the games themselves? Then you’re in luck.

Post Games, the new podcast from former Polygon Editor-in-Chief Chris Plante, feels like the canonical audio form of Polygon. Everything I loved about Polygon from its clean yet charming design to its niche stories to its rich journalism with personality is woven into Post Games.

I had the pleasure of providing early feedback on the first episode, which details an under appreciated game award that is damn near prophetic of seminal indie game success and stories and developers I’ve never heard of, but now can’t help but keep my eye fixed upon. Episode 0, an interview with Platformer’s Casey Newton, lends great insight into what a career in independent journalism looks like — a world Plante now finds himself in.

While you can find the show for free on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and any other podcast app via RSS, I encourage you to check out the show’s Patreon to both support and receive a bevy of bonus perks.

It’s inspiring to see former Polygon folks make haste with a poor situation. Seeing Nicole Carpenter’s byline appear on Game File, Aftermath, and 404 Media is thrilling. And now the Post Games podcast from Chris Plante, one of my favorite voices in video game journalism, is leveraging his decades of experience and insight (and a deep Rolodex to boot) to deliver some of the most unique stories in gaming in a wonderfully produced format.

It seems the Polygon legacy lives on.