Gaming
Please review each article prior to use: grade-level applicability and curricular alignment might not be obvious from the headline alone.
An 11-year-old boy is threatened with the distribution of nude images unless he pays an international extortionist who found him on TikTok. A 12-year-old girl is relentlessly pressured by someone she believed was a friend to expose herself on camera. A 14-year-old boy is unravelling — failing classes, withdrawing from life — because his friend is being exploited on Roblox and he feels powerless to help.
These are not outliers. In 2025 alone, Cybertip.ca processed more than 28,000 reports. These are just three.
Canada’s children are not stumbling into harm by accident. They are being systematically exposed to it — on platforms engineered to capture their attention, monetize their vulnerability and retain their engagement at all costs. The scale and severity of harm now demand more than incremental reform. They demand intervention.
For over 25 years, the Canadian Centre for Child Protection has documented a steep and accelerating rise in online harms against children. This trajectory is not coincidental. It reflects a digital environment that is fundamentally misaligned with the developmental realities of childhood.
Youth social media ban likely to begin in schools, provincial education minister says
5 minute read Preview Monday, Apr. 27, 2026Child advocates call for online harms bill covering AI chatbots, gaming
5 minute read Preview Tuesday, May. 19, 2026A small but growing movement wants you to put down your phone. But first read this
5 minute read Preview Monday, May. 11, 2026Google settles with Epic Games with offer to lower its app store commissions
4 minute read Preview Friday, Apr. 24, 2026New report says youth should help guide Ottawa’s campaign against online exploitation
3 minute read Preview Thursday, Mar. 12, 2026Google, Meta, push back on addiction claims in landmark social media trial
6 minute read Preview Tuesday, Mar. 3, 2026Sexual extortion of children for money is on the rise: financial intelligence agency
4 minute read Preview Friday, Nov. 28, 2025Concerns raised about AI-powered toys and creativity, development as holiday shopping peaks
6 minute read Preview Friday, Nov. 28, 2025New Manitoba Computer and Gaming Museum powers up
4 minute read Preview Monday, Nov. 17, 2025High score: Winnipeg Video Game Orchestra goes from joysticks to drumsticks
5 minute read Preview Monday, Nov. 10, 2025Slime, Battleship and Trivial Pursuit join the Toy Hall of Fame
3 minute read Preview Monday, Nov. 10, 2025When the internet first arrived in the mid-1990s, it screeched. Literally.
It screamed its way into our homes through the telephone lines, a metallic cry that sounded like the future forcing its way through. We waited through the static, convinced that life was about to get easier. People said it would save us time, let us work from home and give us more hours with our families.
No one mentioned that it would also move into our bedrooms, our pockets and our dreams. No one could have imagined that it would change how we fight, how we march, how we plead for justice. That the fight for justice itself would become a digital labyrinth where truth moves slowly and attention moves fast.
Back then, when a heroine from a popular early-2000s television show was dumped with nothing but a handwritten note, it became a cultural tragedy. There was nothing noble about writing your cowardice on a Post-it. A few years later, a company fired hundreds by email and it made national news. Today, we “quietly quit” through apps without blinking, edit our grief into reels, add the music the app suggests and call it closure.