My life's a mess. Will turning it into a game make everything better?

The Guardian

27-04-2025

The other night, I didn't moisturise before bed. The baby had just woken and was crying for a feed. I didn't want him to wake the toddler he shares a room with, and I couldn't, in that intensely fraught moment, locate my Elizabeth Arden.
We all find it hard, at times, to fit in self-care. But if there's one thing I've noticed since becoming a mum of two small children, it's that even the most basic level of personal care requires military-level planning. Often, I pour from an empty cup because I haven't had time – or, more likely, I've simply forgotten – to refill it.
Fortunately, there's an app for that. Lots, in fact. The global self-care apps market was valued at about $3bn (£2.2bn) in 2024 and is projected to reach $14bn by 2033. Many of these apps turn self-care into a game to help users look after themselves. There are gamified apps for meditation, drinking more water and consuming less alcohol. There's even one called Zombies, Run! that claims to put a 'post-apocalyptic spin on a workout' by challenging users to outrun the undead.
Gamification expert Kimba Cooper-Martin says of the trend: 'Gamification taps into psychological motivators like achievements, competition (even with yourself) and rewards. It makes tasks more engaging and less like chores.'
So, I put four gamified apps – Finch, Habitica, Ahead and Pokémon Sleep – to the test for one week each to see if any of them could help me take better care of myself. All are available for iOS and Android and have free versions or free trials, plus extra features for between £4.99 and £9.99 a month.
I thought I'd love Finch, which launched in 2021 and encourages users to look after themselves by, um, making them look after a pet. I'm a child of the 90s, after all, and once kept my Tamagotchi alive for nearly two weeks – although, in fairness, this was mostly because my dad took it to work with him and left his meetings to feed it.
As you complete self-care goals on Finch (drinking more water, meditating, running) your little pet (they call it a birb) will go on adventures, grow, be happy. And if you don't hit your goals? Don't worry: according to the app's creators, the pets 'never die because it can be too anxiety inducing'.
I downloaded the app with much anticipation. Sure, I already have a baby, a toddler and a spaniel to look after, but what's another mouth to feed?
'You hatched a birb,' my phone tells me when I open Finch for the first time, before inviting me to choose its pronouns. The app then suggests a name: Squiggles. Unconvinced, I click 'shuffle' and a new moniker is generated for my pixelated pet: Peach. Better.
And so Peach and I begin our adventures. I'm allowed to choose my own goals and decide to keep it simple. Get out of bed is one. Brush my teeth is another. I do set a few slightly more intentional ones, though: take three deep breaths; have a stretch break; do one thing that makes you happy. Each time I complete a goal, I get to check it off and Peach rewards me with merry little cheeps, the occasional burst of digital ticker tape, and messages letting me know that she now has 123 Rainbow Stones, whatever they are. I'm also thrown daily affirmations each time I log on to the app. 'I'm not lost, I'm exploring,' preens one. 'I allow myself time to unwind,' gloats another.
I play along and even buy Peach a little toadstool hat for 500 Rainbow Stones (seems steep to me); try to hatch her a micropet by promising to take three deep breaths for seven days in a row (unsuccessful); and even plan to send her off on adventures in Finchie Forest powered by a 'potion' (bought with more Rainbow Stones).
While I like keeping track of my goals, I find that the concept is lost on me. Maybe the app's colourful display is too busy or maybe I'm simply too old for this business, but I find the whole thing overstimulating to the point of being unusable.
At one point, Finch advises me that Peach is just four more 'full-energy' days away from becoming a toddler. Sadly, my actual toddler, himself already full of energy, is not only slowly sapping mine but is also – rightly – keeping me away from my phone, meaning I sometimes go a day or two without checking in on poor Peach.
Before long, the app feels like another job, so I enact the biggest act of self-care thus far and delete it.
Perhaps the best way to ensure you keep on top of self-care is to make it a habit, part ofyour daily routine. That's the thinking behind Habitica, which features in-game rewards and – eek! – punishments to motivate users.
I'm initially impressed. The app invites me to list a range of habits and then select whether they have a positive or negative impact on my life. Putting my phone down for at least an hour, for example, is a positive habit. Spending more than 15 minutes at a time scrolling on Vinted is negative. I enjoy thinking about what habits I already have, exploring if they're helpful or unhelpful, and then siphoning them off accordingly.
Things then get a bit other-worldly. The more positive habits I check off, the more 'gold' I accumulate for my avatar, who I can also send off on quests – completing tasks, battling monsters and collecting enchanted feathers. I'm able to get gold, too, by completing a daily scheduled task like brushing my teeth or by ticking off an item on my personalised to-do list, such as collecting my son's prescription from the pharmacy. I can then use said gold to 'buy' rewards, which can either be, say, potions for my avatar (potions again!) or customised prizes that I input: listening to a podcast, watching an episode of my favourite TV show, allowing myself more than 15 minutes on Vinted. If I partake in bad habits, I lose gold or damage my avatar.
I understand the theory: that if you do something – a good habit – and something positive happens as a result, you're more likely to repeat that habit. Similarly, if you do something bad and something negative happens, you're unlikely to do it again.
I'm not entirely convinced, though, by relying on extrinsic motivation: to me it risks eroding the power of intrinsic motivation. I should spend an hour away from my phone because it's good for my brain, not because if I do, I get some guilt-free scrolling time in return.
Like Finch, Habitica encourages me to build a streak by using the app every day. But, although there isn't a digital dependant relying on me this time, I still feel guilty every time I forget to log on. I even find myself feeling stressed about not recording health habits on the app, even if I've carried them out in real life. I also – and perhaps this is my age at play again – find the cluttered design a bit tiresome. So I delete this one, too.
By the time I try Ahead, I'm a bit frustrated with self-care apps. Finch and Habitica – though, I'm sure, helpful for their fans – are too overstimulating for me. So I'm pleasantly surprised when I download Ahead – which bills itself as 'Duolingo for your emotional intelligence' – and find the app has been created by scientists from Oxford, Cambridge and Harvard universities. This, combined with a clean and intuitive design, gives it a reassuring air of grown-up credibility.
It opens with a quiz about how I'd respond to different events: if a friend moved a coffee date, for example, or if I made a mistake at work. The language is clear and accessible, if sometimes a bit too wacky. (Do you get 'hot like a jalapeno' in arguments? Apparently I do!) Then, from my results, it calculates what I'm most in need of help with, covering everything from anxiety to anger. It also asks me – and I particularly like this bit – how much time I'm able to commit to the app per day, ranging from three to five minutes to more than 15. I choose five to 10 minutes, a middle ground, which I resolve to do while winding down before bed. I also commit, somewhat tentatively, to a five-day streak of logging on to Ahead to 'work on myself'.
Working on myself, it transpires, involves clicking through a series of very short courses that have the vibe of workplace fire safety training, even down to the short recall quizzes I'm asked to complete at the end of each one. In them, I'm taught about how to manage my emotions, spot distorted thinking and establish whether any of my worries are helpful. Each mini-course comes with sources to back up the theory and a timestamp that tells me how long it will take (most are around three to five minutes). They're easy to do, surprisingly informative, and – hurrah! – there's not a single potion or quest in sight. Learnings and techniques picked up along the way are safely stashed within the app for me to refer back to as needed. And I do.
I don't manage my five-day streak. However, crucially, I don't feel guilty for missing a day, knowing the courses are there for me to pick up when I can.
I was initially sceptical that Pokémon Sleep, a sleep-tracking app based on the Pokémon franchise, would work for me given I often share a bed with my own little Pikachu – my 10-month-old baby – who still wakes frequently at night. I also suffer from bouts of insomnia, made worse, I think, by the postpartum hormones raging through my body. Would the pressure of gamifying my sleep make it harder to drop off?
The premise of the app – which, I should say, is intended for entertainment purposes only – is supposedly simple: help the fictional Professor Neroli research Pokémon's sleep habits using a Snorlax (a large, blue-green creature that sleeps a lot) as, I guess, a kind of sleep bait, encouraging different Pokémon to come over and have a nap next to it. The more you sleep, the greater your Snorlax's 'Drowsy Power' will become and the more Pokémon you will attract and wake up to in the morning. Got it? Good.
The app uses your device's accelerometer to estimate your sleep state by detecting body movement. Professor Neroli suggests sleeping with the app open and running, your phone face down on the mattress and uncovered by pillows and blankets.
I'm not a Pokémon fan (unless you count trading cards in the playground when I was 10) but seeing a tiny, snoring Charmander curled up on my screen when I awoke on the first morning elicited an unexpected squeal of delight. I also found it interesting – and useful – to dig into the data the app provides. It divides sleep into three categories – a doze, a snooze and a slumber – and each morning sends you a report on how you slept, noting what percentage of your sleep was spent in each one. It tells you, too, how long it takes you to fall asleep, which was fascinating for someone who, too often, lies awake for hours on end wondering why they can't sleep. (While using the app, I learned it's typical for it to take me about 20 minutes to get to the land of nod.) I should, however, point out that phones, smartwatches etc are not 100% reliable when it comes to measuring sleep and often unable to distinguish slumber from simply being still. In other words, if you just lie there hoping to drop off, your tech may assume you already have.
Professor Neroli was, in addition, irritating. It was a little galling, for example, when he chastised me – after a night when the baby had been up from midnight to 2am – for my sleep score of 85, telling me I was aiming for 100 and should 'try to get as much sleep' as possible. That, and the fact you need to clock up an uninterrupted 90 minutes of shut-eye in order to even log sleep data, suggests this app probably isn't designed with new parents in mind.
Maybe self-care apps aren't for me, not least because I'm trying to spend less time on my phone. I'm already addicted to WhatsApp, Instagram and Vinted, and I'm not sure it's helpful to add another app into the mix. I realised, over the course of the experiment, that not only was I not sold on the level of fantasy involved in many of the apps I'd chosen, I also didn't like how much they dragged me away from the real world.
On reflection, too, I found the pressure of gamification to be in conflict with the whole idea of self-care: it just made me more stressed.
This, it transpires, isn't uncommon. Dr Frankie Harrison, a clinical psychologist, says: 'There's a fine line between using these apps as a helpful tool and turning self-care into another task to complete. For some people, especially those dealing with anxiety or trauma, tracking habits or emotions too rigidly can actually add pressure rather than relieve it.'
There's no doubt these apps have their place. Some people, I'm sure, find them extremely useful, especially if they thrive on structure and accountability as well as fun. But, at least for me, they're not a magic fix, no matter how many powers, Pokémon or potions are involved.