Is Gaming Addiction All in Your Head? UCSB Says Yes
Patricia Martellotti
SANTA BARBARA, Calif. (KEYT) – Millions of people dive into video games every day—to compete, unwind, or simply escape.
But for some, that pastime can spiral into something darker, marked by isolation, distress, and an overwhelming loss of control.
At UC Santa Barbara, researchers are rethinking everything we know about gaming addiction—and what it really means to treat it.
We’ve all said it before: “Just one more round.”
For dedicated gamers, though, that single match can easily stretch into hours.
Jack Dindia, a lifelong gaming enthusiast, admits he’s crossed that line. “I would say there are times when I would play video games to an extent that could be considered an addictive level,” he says.
Gaming disorder, now recognized by the World Health Organization, affects millions worldwide.
For years, it’s been blamed on the games themselves—their design, their reward systems, their relentless immersion.
“It’s clearly a very complicated and nuanced subject,” Dindia adds. “Certain elements are intentionally designed to keep players engaged—maybe even addicted.”
René Weber, a brain scientist and director of UC Santa Barbara’s Media Neuroscience Lab, believes the issue runs deeper.
“The main question,” Weber explains, “is what comes first—an underlying psychopathology that drives compulsive gaming, or compulsive gaming that leads to psychological issues?”
While public concern has often centered on screen time or violent content, Weber’s team found those factors don’t explain why only some players lose control.
Instead, their research points to mental health as the key. “Things like psychopathology drive gaming disorder,” Weber notes. “We see increases in anxiety, depression, and trauma—especially in younger, developing brains.”
At the UCSB Brain Imaging Center, Weber’s team uses advanced MRI technology to explore what happens inside the brain during gameplay.
“Now you can see that’s the head coil,” Weber says, guiding a participant into the scanner. “It’s a very expensive antenna that picks up the signals created by magnetic resonance.”
Players use a small trackball to control their in-game movements, minimizing physical motion so the scans can capture brain activity tied to reward, impulse control, and emotion regulation.
“If our participants keep just a finger on the trackball,” Weber says, “it reduces motion—which is crucial for clean MRI data.”
Weber’s findings, published in JAMA Network Open, challenge a common assumption: limiting access to games isn’t enough.
“The real concern,” he explains, “is that when gaming becomes a true addiction, it leads to loss of control, conflict, and dysfunction in daily life.”
Underlying issues—depression, anxiety, trauma—often fuel the cycle.
Addressing those root causes, not simply restricting playtime, is what leads to recovery.
“I’m not saying it’s just the gaming,” Weber says. “It’s the underlying psychopathology that can intensify the disorder.”
The biggest battle in gaming addiction doesn’t play out on the screen.
It happens in the mind.
Behind every struggle is a deeper story—one that can’t be solved by unplugging a console, but by healing what’s beneath it.