The Christmas season marks the time to give your kids all sorts of gifts, many coming from the ever-evolving video game industry that brings kids and adults much joy. Throughout my childhood, I only recall the grownups around me dismissing video games as nothing more than mental junk food for kids, but that didn’t stop me from asking my parents to get me plenty of games for my Gameboy Advance SP and Nintendo DS. Back then, I had a special interest in Pokémon, which was why I got the Gameboy and DS games in the first place, and today, as an adult with mental health problems like autism and anxiety, my continued special interest helped me reconsider my practices of self-care.
My return to Pokémon games after nearly a decade away from them began in November 2021 when I finally got fed up and bought a Nintendo Switch system with a copy of Pokémon Brilliant Diamond. Since then, I bought three more Pokémon games, and once I grew bored with those, I bought two more critically acclaimed games: Super Mario Odyssey and Stardew Valley. However, playing these two games tainted my view of the Pokémon series a little, as now I recognize how the series’ games aren’t so good at helping rewire the brain to think multiple steps ahead, like what a good video game is supposed to do.
I’m saddened to admit that my current thoughts about the functionality of the four Pokémon games I own are mostly negative, as GameFreak, the company behind these games, is now in a rut of low game quality. Brilliant Diamond and its counterpart Shining Pearl are just copy-and-paste remakes of the Nintendo DS games, Diamond and Pearl, without anything new or innovative to translate how those games would work differently on the Switch compared to the DS. The gameplay thus becomes very grindy with unattractive graphics that lazily attempt to replicate the exact layout of the DS games in 3D.
Pokémon Shield is another one of the Pokémon games I own, which is more concerned about cutting corners to speed up the production process than making something with significant replay value. Pokémon Legends: Arceus is perhaps the best of my Pokémon games, but it still suffers from poor pacing in gameplay that makes the main quest and side quests progress too slowly. Pokémon Scarlet, the last of my games, is graphically lackluster like these other games but has also been notorious among fans for its many glitches- characters passing through objects, objects disappearing, the framerate lagging, and the game even outright crashing. All these games suffer from an imbalance of level scaling in the types of boss fights available, not to mention a constant string of interruptions to offer tutorials in the form of long cutscenes over tasks that didn’t need cutscenes. So yes, getting back into gaming as an adult helped me to see how not to design a video game, but the next games I got outside of Pokémon helped me to finally experience an expertly designed game.
First, Super Mario Odyssey. I did own a Super Mario Bros game on the DS, but this marked my first Mario game on a home counsel. Odyssey involves Mario exploring different kingdoms by possessing some of his enemies with his sentient hat, temporarily borrowing their powers to reach inaccessible areas and collect rewards. Scattered throughout these kingdoms are obstacles that the player must carefully consider the ideal approach to maneuver around, climaxing at boss fights that utilize a certain mechanic- usually one of the critters Mario must possess to take down the intimidating foe. Between these boss fights are many side quests, like running a go-kart race, herding sheep, playing memory games, and even entering a pipe inside the wall, where Mario becomes an 8-bit model based on his Atari-era design. The result is a challenging game for kids and adults that doesn’t hold their hand too much and gives them the freedom to explore.
Second, Stardew Valley. I discovered this masterpiece while searching for what many consider to be the best Switch games, and I was surprised to see a pixel art-style game like this receive such strong unanimous praise. Playing it for myself made me see why. The challenges include developing a farm, growing crops, purchasing animals, fishing, mining for artifacts, fighting monsters, earning money, cooking recipes, and building rapport among the folk in the small town—all easy to learn but difficult to master. Beyond these simple goals are hidden secrets that both encourage and reward further gameplay. Best of all, there’s no rush to get good, the player works at their own pace without time-sensitive pressure toward completion. Hard to believe that just one person developed this entire game!
Ultimately, a good game doesn’t need the most advanced technology by the most well-known studio to be dense and engaging. Games made by passion and knowledge instead of corporate interference offer something more valuable than killing time: Kids and adults overcome challenges that help them realize their true selves. I’ve learned from my time on the Nintendo Switch that I’m not the competitive type, and that fast-paced time-sensitive games like the Mario series aren’t always good for me when I’m stressed enough by life already. A play-at-your-own-pace game like Stardew Valley is a better fit for my personality. Even then, I may want to play Mario at times to stimulate my brain, while on other days when I’m more stressed or depressed, I need a relaxing experience like Stardew Valley. You too can help your son or daughter learn similar traits about themselves by engaging with whatever games or toys they may receive this Christmas season.
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Trevor Pacelli is a young adult on the autism spectrum as well as the author of What Movies Can Teach Us About Disabilities, What Movies Can Teach Us About Bullying, Summer of the Fruit Virus and the illustrator of The Kindergarten Adventures of Amazing Grace: What in the World is Autism?
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By Trevor Pacelli
Gift-giving at Christmas time can be difficult for anyone, but even more so for someone on the autism spectrum such as myself. Throughout my childhood and most of my adulthood, my family gave each other Christmas gifts the same way most everyone else does, by giving each family member a present we picked ourselves. That meant every year, I got one gift from Mom, one from Dad, and one from my sister. In turn I gave a gift to each of them. I also got a gift from my grandparents, and when my sister got married, her husband was included in the gift-giving. This system worked out fine throughout my childhood, as we got the whole routine done in about twenty minutes, and my sister and I just spent the rest of Christmas day playing with our gifts and watching A Christmas Story on TBS. But things changed as we got older.
Nowadays, my family and I are all the type of people who already feel content with what we currently own; whenever we want/need something, we just buy it ourselves instead of waiting for someone else to do it for us. So, when it came to putting together Christmas wish lists, thinking of what to put on our lists became more and more stressful for all of us, and having to stick to the lists just took out the personal feeling behind a present. I’ve tried in the past to deviate from the wish lists I’ve received from family members, and that only resulted in hurt feelings. Furthermore, it was a symptom of an even bigger problem of mine, my inability to truly understand others. Because I never had much common sense in assessing the personal interests of others, I never knew exactly what someone would want in a present. To add to the damage, I was expected to just know all these many unspoken rules of gift exchanges, such as following a price limit so that it’s not too expensive or too cheap.
The gift-giving exchange was much easier for me as a kid, because I could get excited for whatever toys I’d be getting, and I wasn’t expected to select meaningful gifts for my other family members (or my mom would just help me find the right gifts). But once I became an adult and was suddenly expected to put some actual thought into my gifts, the holiday officially started to feel like work rather than a joy.
The rest of my family were feeling similar emotions, so in 2019, we shook things up. Rather than gifts, we gave each other cookies. I made four different sweet treats for each family member: one for Mom, one for Dad, one for my sister, and one for my brother-in-law. I also got cookies from them in exchange. Although I’ll admit my treats didn’t turn out perfectly, we were still satisfied with doing Christmas this way, and we’ve kept this tradition ever since.
We have kept a scaled-down version of traditional gift-giving. We put our names on separate pieces of paper, each drawing a name, and that’s who we give a gift to, one that’s between $20-$30. We did this before starting our new cookie tradition, except before the gifts were stored in our stockings. But now we just traditionally wrap these gifts instead of using the stockings. (In fact, stockings have now become so irrelevant to our Christmases that my Mom did not even bother putting them up on the mantlepiece this year.) Since making this switch, we no longer write out Christmas wish lists or feel pressured to give everyone the right gift. And thus, Christmas has become a truly joyful time again.
This whole system works better for me personally because it’s easier to learn another’s food tastes than which material objects would work best as gifts for them. Plus, I already love food, so creating unique family cookies is genuinely fun for me. You too can create your own holiday traditions in this way. Perhaps you have a severely autistic child who will never develop past the mentality of a three-year-old, so a suitable Christmas tradition to include them could be exchanging drawings or other works of art instead of traditional presents. That way, the autistic child could apply something they’re capable of doing without having to go through the stress of finding a gift for someone. That’s just one idea that can encourage you to use your imagination as you create new holiday traditions that demonstrate how unique your family is, and more importantly, to ensure nobody is left out on what should be the most joyous day of the year.
Trevor is a young adult with autism and the author of several books, including Six-Word Lessons on Growing Up Autistic and What Movies Can Teach Us About Disabilities.