It’s destroyed my life
It all started with Memento AR—a game that promised immersive augmented reality, thrilling experiences, and endless possibilities. What I didn’t realize was that it would also become the catalyst for my downfall.
At first, it was harmless fun. A few hours here and there, completing quests, collecting rare digital artifacts, and trading them in the game’s marketplace. But then, I started noticing the pay-to-win mechanics, the loot boxes, the gambling-style reward system that kept me hooked. The rush of unlocking a rare item, the frustration of missing out—it was all designed to keep me coming back, spending more.
And I did.
At first, it was just small in-game purchases. Then, I started chasing bigger wins, sinking money into high-stakes virtual auctions, wagering in player-run betting pools, and before I knew it, I had maxed out my credit cards. I kept thinking, just one more win and I’ll make it all back. But the house always wins, even in a digital world.
My wife saw the warning signs before I did. She tried to pull me out, but I was too deep. I lied to her, told her I had it under control, even when the bills were piling up and debt collectors were calling. I wasn’t just playing a game anymore—I was addicted to the gamble, the dopamine hit of risk and reward.
She gave me ultimatums. I ignored them. And eventually, she left. I came home one day to an empty house and divorce papers on the table. Even then, my first thought wasn’t about fixing things—it was about checking the in-game marketplace, seeing if my latest gamble had paid off.
Now, I’m alone, drowning in debt, and still fighting the urge to log back in, to chase that high one more time. Memento AR didn’t just ruin my life—it rewired my brain. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover, but I do know one thing: if I could go back and stop myself from ever installing that game, I would.
At first, it was harmless fun. A few hours here and there, completing quests, collecting rare digital artifacts, and trading them in the game’s marketplace. But then, I started noticing the pay-to-win mechanics, the loot boxes, the gambling-style reward system that kept me hooked. The rush of unlocking a rare item, the frustration of missing out—it was all designed to keep me coming back, spending more.
And I did.
At first, it was just small in-game purchases. Then, I started chasing bigger wins, sinking money into high-stakes virtual auctions, wagering in player-run betting pools, and before I knew it, I had maxed out my credit cards. I kept thinking, just one more win and I’ll make it all back. But the house always wins, even in a digital world.
My wife saw the warning signs before I did. She tried to pull me out, but I was too deep. I lied to her, told her I had it under control, even when the bills were piling up and debt collectors were calling. I wasn’t just playing a game anymore—I was addicted to the gamble, the dopamine hit of risk and reward.
She gave me ultimatums. I ignored them. And eventually, she left. I came home one day to an empty house and divorce papers on the table. Even then, my first thought wasn’t about fixing things—it was about checking the in-game marketplace, seeing if my latest gamble had paid off.
Now, I’m alone, drowning in debt, and still fighting the urge to log back in, to chase that high one more time. Memento AR didn’t just ruin my life—it rewired my brain. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover, but I do know one thing: if I could go back and stop myself from ever installing that game, I would.
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App in progress
This is the first beta release of the app. The UX could do with some tweaking, but overall this this so much fun. Loving it so far.
Love this app!
I haven’t posted publicly yet, but I really love being able to see my memories where I left them -it’s really unusual to have them hanging in life - as it were! Looking forward to more content as it’s so new so not a lot there yet!