How Roblox Helped Me Accept Co-Parenting

My daughter became familiar with video games as a toddler while watching her father play them. She was a little younger than recommended, but I wasn’t too worried about it. I knew more than enough healthy adults who grew up with video games.

Despite being tech-savvy, I'm not a gamer. It’s not even that I can muddle through—I’m just plain bad. When handed a controller, I’m unable to process the simplest of instructions, and inevitably, my virtual character wilts while trying to escape peril. If I’m not headbutting a corner, I simply stand in place and do nothing.

The only game I played meaningfully was Candy Crush, which is not something I take pride in. My daughter is impressed by my progress, though, which is mainly because of her. I only play at bedtime when she sometimes needs me next to her to fall asleep. While I wait for her to nod off, instead of doing something more respectable like reading, I’ll open the Candy Crush app and mindlessly swipe garishly coloured candies into matching rows.

During the pandemic, when screen time rules became hazy, she started watching YouTubers play games on Roblox. I didn’t understand the appeal but agreed to download it to her tablet, telling myself I preferred her playing over passively watching someone else play. Otherwise, I stayed out of it, leaving the management of these games up to her father.

Realizing the reality of co-parenting

Shortly afterwards, her father and I divorced. While we finalized logistics and packed up the house, I assumed we could split activities the way we split assets—I’d keep baking, he’d keep Roblox. As the move-out day got closer, the thought that I wouldn’t always be there to lay with my daughter in the dark as she sweetly slipped into slumber, even if I was just playing Candy Crush, was so upsetting that I could barely breathe.

She was seven then, young enough that she couldn’t really text. Phone calls were awkward. It was heartbreaking to accept the idea that once her father and I started co-parenting, our communication when she was with him could possibly be nonexistent. In other circumstances, I would’ve asked my ex-husband what he thought of the situation and what he was going to do when she was with me, but we were both too raw from the divorce to have that kind of conversation. We’d each have to figure it out for ourselves.

Why I turned to Roblox

I felt an unexpected relief when I remembered that Roblox was a multiplayer online game. On the days she wasn’t with me, I could check if she was logged in. Even if we weren’t playing together, it would be like she was in the same house but in a different room, the two of us quietly coexisting the way we did in real life. Maybe my ex-husband had come to the same conclusion himself.

I downloaded the app to my phone. My daughter showed me how to add her as a friend. We exchanged our first texts in the in-game chat.

Hi! 

hi

How are you?

good

I love you!

I was immediately chastised by a system message in red font that said Your message was moderated and not sent. I hoped I hadn’t been flagged as some kind of creep, but I was also relieved to know there was a level of supervision.

At the time, her favourite Roblox game was Brookhaven, a role-playing game with no real point other than creating characters, dressing them up, and then having them explore the virtual town. Brookhaven is a quaint place. There's a diner, a few stores, a gas station, a barber shop. Other characters scurry about and you can choose to interact with them.

Our first game

Once my character was set up, I had no idea what to do. She taught me how to shrink myself to baby size so she could carry me to another part of town. This is weird, I thought as I watched my tiny virtual self move across the screen on her back. Then she wanted to play hide-and-seek.

“I’ll hide,” she said. As her character ran off my screen, I waited idly in the middle of a road while other players streamed past me. “Okay, I’m ready!”

I took off. Like in most games, you’re never moving at a leisurely stroll but running on an endless quest. I sprinted down the road and approached a line of businesses and buildings. Where was my daughter? She could be anywhere and I didn’t know this place, its limits, who all these people were.

I felt panicky in Brookhaven as if I’d genuinely lost my kid and was tearing through the streets trying to find her. The endless scroll of the chat screen in the corner of the game also stressed me out. Sure, Roblox moderated I love you’s, but “scammers” were real, and the chat seemed full of them trying to trick me.

“I’ll give you a hint. I’m somewhere you can buy pizza.”

After I ran around and ended up exactly where I started, she took my phone and led me to her exact position, behind the counter in a restaurant next to the pizza oven.

“You found me! Let’s play again!” she said, delighted.

How things are going now

It’s now been a few years since those first few games of Roblox and I’m still a terrible gamer, but I’ve relaxed. I miss my daughter when she’s with her father, but not in the soul-crushing way I was afraid it would be. She can chat properly with me on Messenger, and I don’t have to rely on games. And then, it feels special when I play with her, which she still occasionally requests.

She taught me how to choose between different modes of transportation in Brookhaven, and I always pick the skateboard, which has a gentler gliding feel than running. I’ll hop on and cruise through the streets, practically feeling the wind blowing through my digital hair. I’ll take my time seeking out her hiding spot, knowing that she’s in town somewhere and that it's okay if I can’t find her. She knows how to find me.