For years, Roblox was more than just a game in my house — it was a recurring battle. What began as occasional play quietly became a dominant presence in my son’s day. Friends would arrive for real-world play… and all anyone wanted to do was fire up Roblox (I can't tell you how many times I'd find them hiding and playing the stupid game). His focus, mood, and ability to think critically seemed to erode, and the more we tried quick “tactical” fixes, the worse it felt.
One day, out of curiosity (and desperation), I logged into Roblox myself.
What I discovered was telling: a mediocre game, mediocre graphics, dragged down by addictive social mechanics. It wasn’t the game itself that was powerful — it was the ecosystem of social pressure and digital loops that made it irresistible.
But that’s precisely what made Roblox unlike anything we’d ever dealt with. This wasn’t just a screen habit. It was a digital social world, one structured to keep attention, trigger reward circuits, and pull kids away from real experiences into a virtual loop of engagement.
In The Anxious Generation, Jonathan Haidt describes how technology has “rewired childhood” into something unprecedented — a generation growing up in a screen-based world that wasn’t designed for the wellbeing of children.
“My central claim in this book is that these two trends — overprotection in the real world and underprotection in the virtual world — are the major reasons why children born after 1995 became the anxious generation.” — Jonathan Haidt
That line resonated deeply with me. Roblox was more than a distraction — it was a symptom of children living in a digital world more engaging than their real one. And no matter how clever my parent-mode tactics were, they weren’t addressing the real issue.
When Tactics Aren’t Enough
My first responses were typical parental tactics:
- Time limits — only one hour a day
- Spending controls — no marketplace purchases without approval
These did change some surface behaviors — but only in moments. The Roblox pull was still there, lingering between play sessions, tugging at attention and mood. Limiting purchases was less painful — until the daily alerts asking for approval became just another chore for me.
Meanwhile, I began noticing something deeper. The way he thought about his time had shifted. His attention snapped back to Roblox during homework, meals, even when talking. This wasn’t just screen “use” anymore. It was cognitive displacement.
Haidt explains this kind of displacement as part of the great rewiring — where digital environments train attention and reward systems in ways that evolved brains weren’t built to handle.
“Gen Z became the first generation in history to go through puberty with a portal in their pockets that called them away from the people nearby and into an alternative universe that was exciting, addictive, unstable, and — as I will show — unsuitable for children and adolescents.” — Jonathan Haidt
That hit home.
I knew I had to take a more serious approach that incorporated my tactics and then some.
The Strategic Breakthrough
It wasn’t until I stepped out of the tactical mindset and adopted a strategic lens that the situation started to shift.
Instead of trying to manage Roblox for one child in one household, I asked a bigger question:
What would happen if we shifted the environment around the child?
I reached out to the parents of his closest friends. What I found surprised me: everyone was dealing with the exact same issue.
Different households, same frustration
Different tactics, same result.
But here’s what most parents hadn’t realized:
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As long as every other kid is playing, a single parent’s limits feel like social exile
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As long as the digital world feels more rewarding than real play, kids will gravitate there
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And as long as we fight this individually, we’re stuck in a reactive loop
So we agreed on something bold:
Nobody’s kids play Roblox.
At all.
Not even a little bit.
We collectively shift the social norm back to real-world risks and rewards.
Get outside. Get on your bike. Get into trouble.
Leave the screens behind, and never think about Roblox again, cuz it ain't gonna happen!
For the first time in years, I’m not negotiating a patchwork of rules. We’re changing the context — the ecosystem — in which habit, attention, and social identity operate.
That’s strategy.
I know the fight isn't over, but the battle is, and guess what? The kids aren't even that upset about it. Knowing they're not alone has brought them peace.
What This Taught Me About Growth (and Life)
This experience mirrors a lesson we care deeply about in growth enablement — whether in business or personal life:
📌 Tactics are small moves within a system.
📌 Strategy reshapes the system itself.
You can limit screen time.
You can block purchases.
You can enforce rules.
But until you address the forces that shape behavior — the social, neurological, and motivational systems — nothing truly changes long term.
Just like in your business, as you set a path to grow it, you can take on individual tactics one-by-one. Or, you can address the entire customer ecosystem.
In growth enablement, we focus on helping organizations and teams:
🔹 Define a clear North Star (direction)
🔹 Understand the system they operate within
🔹 Align incentives, processes, and capabilities around outcomes
🔹 Move beyond activity into intentional change
When we do that, we stop being reactive — we start being strategic.
A Path Forward
I still don’t know exactly how this Roblox ban will evolve. There will be negotiation. There will be pushback. There will be learning.
But for the first time, I feel confident — not because of a rule — but because of a purpose.
Because, as Haidt argues, child development is not just about protecting children from harm — it’s about giving them real worlds to grow in.
And that’s what strategy does: it creates a real world where growth is possible. In life. In business. Everywhere. Click HERE to learn more about our Growth Enablement solution for small business owners and entrepreneurs:
