The Remarkable Life of Ibelin

This empathetic documentary from Netflix is a powerful counterpoint to the outcry over screen time, as a young man with severe disabilities found connection through online gaming.

As soon as I heard about Netflix’s forthcoming documentary, “The Remarkable Life of Ibelin,” I knew I had to watch it. It’s not often movies come out that are seemingly made with exactly you in mind.

It’s about a Norwegian man, Mats Steen, who by most standard definitions was addicted to playing World of Warcraft, the great-granddaddy of MMORPGs — massively multiplayer online role-playing game. These are video games where the player takes on the role of an avatar while interacting with thousands (or more) of other players to overcome obstacles, defeat enemies… and sometimes just hang out in a digital shared space.

Mats, who went by the name of his online avatar, Ibelin Redmoore, was notable in that he was severely disabled by Duchenne disease, a form of muscular distrophy, and by his teen years could only move his fingers. With the help of special interface devices, he was able to play Warcraft for hours and hours every day, as it seemed the only social outlet available to him. He eventually died in 2014 at the age of 25.

His parents, Trude and Robert, felt remorse that the hereditary disease Mats had prevented him from having a full social life. Only after his death, though, did they discover that he had a vast and deep network of friends, and even romantic partners — all as a result of playing the game.

My interest in the doc, directed by Benjamin Ree, was sparked on several levels, including that I played WoW, as it’s known to players, quite a lot between 2007-11 — so much so that I sometimes wondered if I was addicted. This led to channeling that angst into writing, in the form of an ambitious front-page story package I wrote for The Indianapolis Star, long before gaming addiction was a significant cultural or clinical topic.

(Alas, it no longer appears to be available online.)

Through my personal and professional exploration, I satisfied myself that playing WoW was a want, not a need — best evidenced by the fact I gave it up not long after the birth of my first child. My overall gaming has been a fraction of what it once was as family priorities pushed it (and other things) aside.

However, I absolutely knew people in the online gaming world who were addicted. Personal testimonials of playing 50 hours a week — or more — were not uncommon. I also formed relationships with other players I have no hesitation in describing as friendships. Even though we never met in person, or even knew their real names or faces, those relationships were important to me.

I saw the toll excessive gaming could take on people. For example, in my guild — clubs formed for cooperative endeavors and socializing — we had a married couple, both voracious players, who went through a divorce. Nevertheless, they continued associating through their avatars and even introduced their child into the game, with strict limits on their playing time.

Mats didn’t really have such limitations on his playing time, because there really wasn’t much else for him to do. Moving into the basement apartment of his parents’ house, he didn’t need to work and couldn’t easily travel around the countryside around Oslo. So he played WoW, and also worked on his personal blog, “Musings of life,” which was in some ways an extension of his life as Ibelin.

As far as his folks knew, Mats was just wasting his time doinking around on a stupid video game. People who have never experienced virtual relationships, particularly older generations, consider the very idea ridiculous — at least they did in 2014. Now, we see many people lose themselves online, whether through hateful diatribes on Twitter/X, getting catfished by a pretend lover, or other virtual channels.

The documentary is able to recreate Mats’ life as Ibelin to a large degree through a combination of his blog writings and tends of thousands of pages of Warcraft logs of his text conversations with other avatars. Due to his trouble speaking, Mats eschewed voice channels where players can audibly talk to each other, so virtually everything he said as Ibelin is recorded.

These archives are animated into long vignettes in the signature Warcraft style, with slightly blocky figures and backgrounds. Mats delights in how handsome his online avatar is — a strapping human male with reddish goatee and ponytail — while puckishly noting that everybody is beautiful in this world.

(I wouldn’t know, as I stayed on the “Horde” side of WoW, mostly favoring undead characters. Take from that what you will.)

It seems Ibelin didn’t do a lot of dungeon-crawling and fighting monsters, but mostly embraced WoW for the social interaction. Every day when he logged on, he would run around one of the major Warcraft cities in a set pattern for about half an hour. He tarried in pubs and other common spaces to strike up conversations with fellow guild members (guildies) or strangers. He even marketed himself as an in-game “private detective,” really as a way to strike up more interaction.

He became known as a gentle, supportive soul who was always willing to talk and offer encouragement. For a kid twisted up essentially unmoving in a motorized wheelchair, Mats/Ibelin really got around — and touched a lot of lives.

Amazingly, the filmmakers tracked down a number of these other players and interview them about their friendship with Mats/Ibelin. There’s Lisette, who carried on a tender romance with Ibelin through her character, Rumour. Kai Simon, the leader of their guild, Starlight, talks about working with him on his conflict resolution skills.

Perhaps the most consequential interaction is with Xenia, a Danish woman who struggled to connect with her autistic son, Mikel. Ibelin suggested she use the game as a way for them to interact, which they did to great success. Her son even gave his mother their first hug within the game, something that eventually translated to IRL (in real life). Mikel, who had not attended school for four years, eventually came out of his shell and rejoined society to a degree unimaginable before the help of Ibelin.

I think that’s the one big takeaway I got from “Ibelin.” Human connections are what allow our souls to thrive, and it doesn’t really matter where or how they take place. Some online experiences can be harmful or addictive… but really not moreso than those in the corporeal world.

“It's not a screen. It's a gateway to whatever your heart desires,” Mats said in one of his many memorable statements.

I sometimes wonder if I unknowingly ran into Mats/Ibelin somewhere in the course of our World of Warcraft days, which overlapped to a great degree. If not, I know I met plenty of other people who mattered to me, even if I only ever saw them though a digitized avatar. “The Remarkable Life of Ibelin” is an amazingly empathetic movie that makes us rethink what a happy life is.