By Donald Bradley
Some were fun, but most were thinking games — mind games.
Alex was, it seems, a heady lad.
Right — a little tougher than getting players to come up with "Colonel Mustard in the library with a candlestick."
The ambitious project merited two articles in leading simulation journals. Still, the father-and-son team figured they had set the bar a tad high.
But doctors at Children's Mercy think it may help children with cystic fibrosis live longer.
Christenson had seen plenty of adolescents die over the years because they wouldn't stick to their treatment regimen for cystic fibrosis.
The chronic disease, which affects 30,000 in the U.S., causes lungs to clog with thick, sticky mucus and leads to life-threatening infections. There is no cure. It is vital that patients do therapy to keep the airways clear.
Young people know the risks, but many still cheat.
They won't do their breathing exercises.
They blow off taking medication.
They'll go out on Saturday night after being sick all week.
Research shows that more than 50 percent of adolescents do less therapy than they're supposed to, and 30 percent do none at all.
So three years ago, Christenson, who had long witnessed her brother-in-law's fascination with games and the human mind, asked Williams: "Can you come up with a game to improve compliance for kids with cystic fibrosis?"
Wow. That's a serious game.
But he was willing to try if she could give him enough information.
"I would start making up this story about Spider-Man, and then after a while I would tell Alex to take over," Bob remembered. "He looked at me funny the first time I did that, but he took the story to another level and then he would hand it back to me. We'd go back and forth like that."
But by the time of Christenson's challenge, Alex was nearing the end of his undergraduate studies in history, political science and psychology. Well past Spider-Man. Also, he was not exactly the age when sons yearn to commit to a long, grueling academic project with their fathers.
"If you start, you have to hang in there," Bob told him. "It will be hard."
Alex didn't hesitate.
He received no pay or college credit for the project.
The two worked on the project about 20 hours a week while Bob taught full time and Alex was making straight A's in college.
During summers, they sometimes worked 10-hour days. They would huddle at the dining table and then go to separate rooms.
The key question was this: "If doing the respiratory exercises meant better health and longer life, then why won't kids do it?"
The answer, Bob said, was simple: "Because if you do it today, you won't feel better, and if you don't do it, you won't feel worse."
It states that a simulation game can influence attitude if a participant becomes personally and emotionally invested in the game's results.
In "My Life With CF," players live the life of a fictional character who has the disease. It starts with the character at age 11 making decisions about family, peer pressure, school, friends and, of course, treatment exercises.
Virtually anything that happens in real life can happen in the game. The players spend "effort points" to shape their character's life.
Last summer, testing began at Children's Mercy. Teens played the game under the tutelage of the Williams team and Christenson.
Changes were made. More testing. Parents watched. More changes. More testing.
"This is exciting," Black said recently. "It's hard to measure some things like this, but we have seen kids change how they feel about their treatments. The game is fun and it's competitive. Like shooting asteroids, only it slips it in on them what this game is about — 'Are you going to the party? Or are you going to do your therapy first and then go to the party?'"
In feedback, two parents said: "Our sons are doing their treatments and we don't have to fight them anymore."
Older players said they wished they had played the game when they were younger.
Bob and Alex plan to attend, too. They are also thinking how the "My Life" concept can be switched out to other issues such as obesity, dangerous driving and substance abuse.
Meanwhile, they're hoping a corporation, such as a pharmaceutical company, comes along and markets "My Life With CF."
They would, though, like to dedicate the game to a girl at Children's Mercy.
She was dying and wanted to leave her organs behind for transplant. But she was told she couldn't because of her cystic fibrosis.
Shortly before she died, she cut her hair, thinking someone who had lost hair to cancer treatment would want it.