What It's Like Gaming as a Blind, Neurodivergent, Chronically Ill Woman

A personal reflection on the barriers and joys of gaming with multiple disabilities, focusing on why text-first, untimed systems are essential for my access.

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Gaming has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. From puzzles as a child to text-based adventures in school, games have always been a place of joy, challenge, and escape.

As a blind, neurodivergent, and chronically ill woman, finding games I can actually play, and enjoy, has become increasingly difficult. This post is for other disabled gamers, accessibility advocates, and developers who want to understand what accessibility looks like in practice, not just in theory.

Why Accessibility Is More than Screen Readers

Accessibility isn't just about adding text-to-speech or ARIA labels. For a multiply disabled player, it’s about the intersection of:

• Cognitive Load: Can I process the information without sensory overwhelm?
• Pace and Pressure: Does the game penalize me for my reaction time or fatigue?
• Information Persistence: Is the data available as text I can reread, or is it ephemeral audio that vanishes once played?

The Games That Work for Me

My current gaming rotation is small and intentional, favoring systems that behave like structured documents rather than spatial environments.

Incremental & Idle Games

Games like Trimps and Evolve are my "gold standard." They work because they:

• Have no "fail states" based on speed.
• Are entirely menu-driven, making them highly predictable for NVDA.
• Allow for deep optimization and planning without the need for visual maps or graphs.

MUDs (Multi-User Dungeons)

I enjoy the concept of MUDs, but they are often exhausting in practice. Because I have topographical agnosia, "Room-based" navigation is a significant barrier. Unless a MUD provides explicit coordinates or a dirs command to show me exactly where to go, I spend more energy trying not to get lost than I do playing the game.

What Makes a Game Accessible for Me

A game can be "technically" accessible (meaning my screen reader can see the buttons) and still be unplayable if it overwhelms my nervous system. Features that consistently matter:

• Untimed Gameplay: The freedom to walk away or think for ten minutes without being penalized.
• Minimal Audio Clutter: The ability to mute background layers while keeping essential feedback.
• Keyboard-Only Interaction: No reliance on "Canvas" or mouse-coordinate-based clicking.
• Persistent Text: The ability to scroll back through a buffer to re-read what just happened.

Why Finding New Games Is a Struggle

Many games recommended for "blind players" rely heavily on audio navigation or spatial awareness. For my specific neurodivergent profile, directional audio is often just sensory noise; it doesn't help me build a mental map.

On the indie side, many developers use Unity or WebGL without exposing the UI to the accessibility tree. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve bought a game only to discover that every button is just an unlabeled "Canvas" element that my screen reader ignores.

Final Thoughts

Gaming is still deeply meaningful to me, but only when developers realize that accessibility isn't one-size-fits-all. For multiply disabled players, accessibility means flexibility, respect for energy limits, and the freedom to play slowly and on our own terms.