Anyone who grew up in the 90s will probably remember the thrill of racing Rainbow Road in Mario Kart or the shock of discovering Pokémon Red’s hidden secrets without a guidebook.
Those games came in chunky cartridge or disk form, ended with credits and forced players to get better—or start over.
Fast-forward to today, kids juggle Fortnite battle passes, spend real money on Roblox skins and face a constant stream of push notifications urging them not to miss time-limited events.
The leap between eras isn’t just technological—it is psychological. According to two mental health professionals, the shift has fundamentally changed how children’s brains develop, process challenges and engage with reward.
Veronica Lichtenstein, a licensed mental health counselor and former teacher, remembers the deep satisfaction of beating a 90s game—“a real victory,” as she put it.
“You fought through levels, memorized patterns and finally saw the ending,” Lichtenstein told Newsweek. “It felt like you accomplished something. Your brain gave you this solid, lasting dose of satisfaction, like finishing a tough project.”
Many modern games, she explained, flip that formula entirely. What looks “free” is often bait for microtransactions: $5 for a skin or $10 to shorten grind time, for example.
These systems are intentionally calibrated to create mild discomfort—just enough that spending money feels like the natural solution. Many games monitor every player action, feeding data back into algorithms that trigger well-timed nudges and “special offers” designed to keep kids from quitting.
“All of this creates a perfect loop for addiction,” Lichtenstein said. “There’s no real ‘end’ so you never get closure.”
She described it as “junk-food dopamine”—quick hits that vanish almost immediately, training kids to crave constant stimulation rather than the slow, steady satisfaction familiar to 90s kids.
Lichtenstein is also concerned about the lack of critical-thinking skills needed for today’s video games. Back in the 90s, getting stuck meant digging through a guidebook, calling a friend or failing repeatedly until something clicked.
“Today, if people get stuck on a game, all it takes is a quick Google search and they’ll have the answer on how to beat that part,” she added.
Her son shared examples: Pokémon Red and Green (from 1996) offered one optional tutorial before throwing players into the wild; Pokémon Sun and Moon (from 2016) required players to march through tutorial-heavy gameplay for the first quarter of the game.
Melissa Gallagher, a licensed clinical social worker and executive director of Victory Bay, sees the contrast between 90s games versus today’s through a different lens.
Games from the 90s offered “bounded entertainment experiences”—clear beginnings and endings, natural stopping points and a design that encouraged social interaction.
Kids would play with friends in person, then step away to run around, rest or move on to another activity. With no social media pressure, no endless scroll and no performance ranking systems, the experience reinforced healthy boundaries and confidence, not comparison or competition.
Today’s games, Gallagher said, deliberately erode those boundaries. “Everything is a game or task, and the need for ranking gives them an inferiority complex,” she told Newsweek. “This generates pressure, erratic sleep patterns and makes too much noise on their minds.”
Gallagher also pointed out that the design philosophy of the 1990s centered on fun and completion, while the 21st century increasingly centers on retention and monetization. Understanding this distinction, she said, is essential for families trying to make informed choices.
Lichtenstein shared the bottom line: “Nineties games are a challenge for building your skills. Today’s games are often a test for your psychological resistance. A great deal are built to track, exploit and addict.”
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