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Parenting
By Jessica Waters
My children dive into Roblox every single day. If you’re not a parent to kids aged 5-12 or don’t live in a world devoid of screens, Roblox is a platform filled with millions of user-generated games. The idea is simple: kids play games because they also create them. It’s technically free, assuming you don’t spend money on Robux, which we don’t. Throughout the pandemic, it has become my 11-year-old’s way to socialize with his real-life friends, while my 9- and 7-year-old play together. I often complain about the excessive screen time — all three of them huddled in one room, glued to their devices: one on the TV, wearing headphones, and using a Kindle Fire (he has dysgraphia, so he uses Messenger Kids to chat with friends simultaneously), and two on tablets.
Not long ago, I spoke with Roger Martin, Editor-in-Chief at The Dad and Head of The Dad Gaming, who shared how games — particularly Rocket League — became a delightful, effortless way for him to bond with his kids. I chuckled, admitting that I never really mastered a PS2 controller. I did, however, dominate with an N64 and could conquer Ganon in the original NES without using the blue potion. I missed those long college days spent playing Dance Dance Revolution and Mario Kart (falling off Rainbow Road? Take a shot).
I decided I could give Roblox a shot. I mean, it’s just a blocky character wandering around, right?
What if instead of grumbling about their endless screen time, I joined in? What if instead of glaring at my laptop, I logged on myself?
“Can I play Roblox?” I asked my kids, a bit hesitant. “Do I need another tablet? Do we have enough devices for me to join?”
My middle child’s eyes lit up. “You want to play?”
I nodded.
Once we figured out that I could play Roblox on my phone, everyone jumped in to help customize my avatar. I needed this hairstyle. I needed that shirt. Then I ventured into the game to join my blocky brood.
They Dragged Me Into Wacky Wizards
“Okay, first, you have to try Wacky Wizards,” said my middle son, Leo, who typically chooses their games. This was no accident. Wacky Wizards is his favorite. It sends players on mini-quests to collect potion ingredients for their cauldrons. You drink your concoctions, and they produce bizarre effects on your avatar, such as turning you into a zombie, shrinking you, or granting you the ability to fly.
My youngest, Max, sat beside me, instructing me on which ingredients to toss into my cauldron. Suddenly, a squeal erupted from the other couch. Leo had just found a brand-new potion. “Mom! Mom! DRINK THIS!” he shouted, rushing to me in-game. A tiny Baby Yoda appeared on my screen.
“Is that you?” I asked.
“I found a Baby Yoda potion!” he exclaimed.
“Oh wow. Make me Baby Yoda.”
He did.
I followed him as he guided me through quests he had already completed. “This goblin needs that ingredient, so you have to…” he would say, while his little brother, also as Baby Yoda, trailed behind.
We played for an hour and a half. I was hooked.
We Played All The Time
My oldest, Ethan, feigned indifference to our various Roblox adventures. So Leo, Max, and I enjoyed Little World (where you become a bug, evolve, and even get a pet alligator, which is totally random, but so much of Roblox is). They always waited for me. “I’m over here near the spawn point,” they’d say. “Oh, there you are. Okay, follow me to…”
“Hey, I’m trying this game called Vans World,” I said. “You skateboard and can customize your shoes?” It sounded a bit like Tony Hawk Pro Skater, but with blocky characters. “You can join me if you want.”
So we dived into Vans World. They stumbled upon secret skate parks, and I showed them where to buy tricks. Max figured out a good method to upgrade his tricks, and I did too, so we all leveled up, and another hour and a half flew by. “Um, I need to go write,” I said. “I promise I’ll play later.”
I was met with a chorus of “Noooooo!” My Roblox sessions had suddenly become cool. I had achieved coolness. My husband chuckled as he walked through the living room. “It’s adorable,” he said as we headed to bed.
“Shut it,” I retorted. “I’ll wipe the floor with you in Vans World.”
Please Don’t Report Us in Brookhaven
Brookhaven is what Roblox calls “Real World Roleplay.” You can own a house, have a job, a pet, and maybe even a baby. In theory, you make friends. So Max, Leo, and I built houses near each other. Brookhaven is particularly entertaining because it allows you to equip lots of Roblox items without spending any money. That’s how I ended up with rainbow fairy wings. Eventually, Ethan caved and decided to join us, building a house adjacent to my awesome treehouse.
Then I discovered a horse upgrade. While wearing fairy wings, we rode through the city on horseback, and apparently, Brookhaven allows you to gallop through grocery stores and grab a Hershey bar.
“Hey,” Leo said, “let’s ride over to the bank and rob it!”
After some clumsy attempts (why did Max have a keycard that let him into the bank’s back end? And why does Brookhaven have bombs?), we managed to rob that bank three times while laughing uncontrollably, using an Army tank for our last heist. Ethan drove while I innocently sat on the back, fairy wings flapping. Then we jumped our horses off a diving board.
“I CAN MAKE MY HORSE BLACK!” I shouted.
And just like that, we all had black horses, forming a Roblox gang of Brookhaven mischief-makers, complete with a tank. I hadn’t laughed that hard with my kids in ages. It was cooperative, fun, and a little subversive, and I was sporting rainbow fairy wings.
They insisted I try some battle games. Even though they focused too much on keeping me alive, I kept perishing, which wasn’t surprising: I’ve always struggled with GoldenEye 007. Polybattle wasn’t terrible, but as a newbie, I had to defend our base and shoot enemies while my skills lagged behind. They laughed, but they were patient.
They always waited for me. They always tracked me down in-game. They remained patient, teaching me game mechanics, even when I struggled. “We need to find a battle game where Mom won’t like, die instantly,” Ethan said.
“Maybe [insert game]?” Leo suggested.
“Nope. She’ll just die,” came the reply.
“Don’t join the game I’m playing,” Max would warn. “You’ll just die.”
Whenever I ask to play — and I always do — they never decline. I thought they’d find my foray into Roblox amusing. I didn’t expect them to be so thrilled about it. They were eager to welcome me into this peculiar realm of wizard potions and bug evolution, and apparently, bank robbery too.
If you can, give your kids’ games a chance. I thought it would be a fun trial. I had no idea my kids and I would enjoy it so much. I didn’t anticipate becoming addicted to Brookhaven or Vans World. I didn’t foresee myself regularly asking, “What are you playing?”
And rather than sighing, they’d respond, “I’ll show you. Come play with us.”
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In summary, joining my kids in Roblox turned into an unexpected bonding experience that brought us closer together. Not only did I discover new games, but I also found joy in playing alongside them, creating lasting memories filled with laughter and adventure.