WHY ARE MAJOR GAMING COMPANIES SCARED OF WLW RELATIONSHIPS?

WHY ARE MAJOR GAMING COMPANIES SCARED OF WLW RELATIONSHIPS?

R Ferari

For decades, we have looked for popular media to be a source for our developing minds to find their identity. Whether it’s what clothes to wear, the cool new ways to behave towards women, or what material goods we should buy to make us a part of the in-crowd, media provides us with a condensed view of what our society should look like.

If you couldn’t find yourself in the mainstream TV or movies, the outcasts of our society could always look to video games: a world where, for just a couple hours a day, we could be the main character of an important, world changing story. But the problem is, what outcasts are games catering to? By looking at the main protagonist of the majority of games, or what character creators default on, they are straight, cisgender white men.

So if video games are to cater to the outcasts and the downtrodden of society, where are the people of color, the LGBTQIA+ community? This article will be looking at the queer community at the moment, specifically an interesting trend I call “queer optionality” that I’ve noticed in a couple of highly regarded games: Overwatch, Uncharted, and The Last of Us.

Why are major gaming companies afraid of women loving women (WLW) relationships? Maybe not ‘afraid’ per se, as the representation is there, but why do they hide it, or leave it up to interpretation, or a developer’s offhand comment or retweet one month after the release?

Recently, Overwatch revealed that their cover character, Tracer, is in a WLW relationship with Emily.

Which is phenomenal.

However, we have to look at how it was revealed.

#1, It was revealed in an Overwatch comic, not as a main part of the actual game that people pay $60 for. Players don’t have to read the comics to play the game, thus they do not have to know that Tracer is queer. Because of the ‘optional’ nature of the context of their relationship and the fact that it is not in-game content, the default heterosexual idea that the ingrained into our minds by society is perpetrated.

#2 The actual term ‘lesbian’ was only said in a tweet by developer, Michael Chu, again, an optional part that players don’t have to read.

#3 The Overwatch team waited until after the game was announced as “Game of the Year” (GOTY), before explicitly stating a character was queer, putting it off since their release in 2015. Now while some might interpret that as clever queer espionage, imagine the impact it would have had if Tracer was canonically a lesbian and then the game was made GOTY. That would help to inspire other developers to create queer main characters in their games in the future. And it isn’t like announcing Tracer was gay would completely devastate their game sales, hell, they could’ve taken the hit. Instead, they waited till after they were awarded and the title was secured to be theirs1.

Maybe a multiplayer game doesn’t convince you. We can also see this idea of “queer optionality” in Naughty Dog’s The Last of Us, which was 2013’s GOTY2.

Ellie, one of the game’s main character, is only revealed to be queer in downloadable content (DLC). Again, you don’t have to have the DLC to complete the game, just expand the universe. Thus, “queer optionality” comes into play once again. A character being queer is not seen as one of the more relevant details to be in the main game.

A different approach to “queer optionality” is the presence of queerbaiting in games. Queerbaiting is when writing and actions may hint at a queer relationship, but rather leads players on and leaves the character’s sexuality ambiguous. This allows developers to never really solidify a character’s sexuality, saying a character could be “straight or gay”, leaving it up to interpretation. The optionality comes into play because one player could say a character is gay, while another could say “well I think they’re straight because they never actually say that they’re gay.”

The most recent example of queerbaiting I can think of is in Naughty Dog’s Uncharted: The Lost Legacy. Throughout the game, Nadine Ross and Chloe Frazer, the game’s main protagonists, grow closer, calling each other pet names, and even grow teary at the idea of separating. To many gamers, this has been interpreted as a queer relationship, but developers have yet to comment. Recently, a developer retweeted a video of Nadine looking at Chloe with the caption ‘Spot the lesbian’. Even though this can be interpreted as him canon-ifying Nadine and Chloe’s relationship, it still doesn’t explicitly state it and in the end, it isn’t canon.

So what is the problem with “queer optionality” summed up? Basically, not putting the fact that characters are queer in the main game and leaving it to DLC or comics allows for the character’s sexuality to still have a level of ambiguity. This renders queerness to be seen as a sidenote or an afterthought, throwing an identity to the side and not let it be taken seriously.

Literally, the only thing developers need to do is state it in canon. Bam! No more “queer optionality”.

1 – Obviously, different gaming sites have different GOTYs, however Overwatch was the majority. Side note, Uncharted was the BAFTA’s GOTY, but that’s none of my business.

2 – Again: different gaming sites, different GOTYs, however: majority and consensus. 

Queer Representation in Mass Effect

Gays in Space: Queer Representation in BioWare’s Mass Effect Franchise

The Mass Effect franchise is one of the most influential game franchises of the modern game industry, becoming an instant classic and the basis in which many following science fiction (sci-fi) media pieces are judged and compared to. In the first three games, the player plays as Commander Shepard, a space marine working with a myriad of characters to save the galaxy from the impending threat of the Reapers, an advanced alien race who wants to keep the Milky Way galaxy in balance by destroying any advanced civilizations. Mass Effect: Andromeda, released March 21st, 2017, is the next installment in the franchise where the player plays as Pathfinder Ryder, searching for a new home for the Milky Way species in a new galaxy, Andromeda, and fighting some mean aliens along the way. What makes the Mass Effect franchise so influential and what draws such a large fan base to the games, is the player’s ability to customize their character (their Shepard or Ryder), their looks and their relationships. This allows a personal connection and manipulation of the story, making each playthrough unique for the gamer. Not just Mass Effect, but BioWare as a whole, is known for letting players enter a romantic relationship or fling with a character in the game. However, players cannot romance just any character. They must align with the character’s sexuality and gender preference. This inclusion of queer1 romance with gay or bisexual characters, when the majority of games do not have a non-heterosexual option, BioWare provides the unique experience to allow players to make their Shepard or Ryder queer and provide a culture of inclusion and representation. This groundbreaking idea sets the standard for future romantic interactions in game, making Mass Effect one of the most well-known, memorable game franchises to feature queer characters.

To emphasize this impact that BioWare and the Mass Effect franchise has, we can look at Heidi McDonald’s 2013 study and analysis, Romance in Games: What It Is, How It Is, and How Developers Can Improve It. In 2013, Heidi McDonald held an online study to analyze queer romance in video games. McDonald posted her study on queer forums to specifically gather the queer audience perspective. Over 1,572 people responded from 83 countries, 57% identifying as queer. When asked to name any queer characters in games, 85% were from the game developer BioWare, as well as 43% of the queer character named are specifically found in the Mass Effect franchise (McDonald, Heidi).

Due to the fact that Mass Effect is seen as the main source of queer representation in video games, as detailed in McDonald’s study, it is important to analyze and critique the discourses that Mass Effect presents. Analyzing what makes Mass Effect positive queer representation, the techno-utopian rhetoric about the presence of physical body in virtual space, and the fetishizing of “otherness” and lesbian relationships, this paper will analyze the question: is Mass Effect really queer media or is it heteronormative media with a queer mask?

To first answer this question, we must look at what elements of the franchise focus on defining Mass Effect as queer media. The short answer is, the presence and development of queer-identified characters within the storyline of the games. In all four of the games (Mass Effect, Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3, and Mass Effect: Andromeda), out of the twenty-seven romanceable characters, there are fourteen LGB (either romanceable by both sexes of the player or exclusively the same sex) identified characters versus the thirteen heterosexual (exclusively romanceable by the opposite sex of the player) identified characters. Now, those fourteen LGB characters are a combination of homosexual and bisexual characters, so while looking at the ratio of homosexual to heterosexual, or bisexual to heterosexual, you still have a heterosexual majority.

Any character the player romances, wind up with a sex scene or heavily implied sex scene, including the queer characters. However, to analyze the effectiveness of Mass Effect as queer media, we must look at the quality of the queer relationship content versus the straight relationship content. Given the fact that Mass Effect: Andromeda was released so recently (at the time of writing this paper, two months ago), I will be using that game as my main judgement of the quality of queer content, since BioWare has had time to develop and attune themselves to the criticisms of queer relationships in Mass Effect 1 – 3.

In Mass Effect: Andromeda, there are seven exclusive romance options and three “fling” options2. The seven exclusive options are:

  •   Cora Harper
  •   Liam Kosta
  •   Peebee
  •   V etra Nyx
  •   Jaal Ama Darav
  •   Gil Brodie
  •   Suvi Anwar

The three fling options are:

  •   Keri T’Vessa
  •   Avela Kjar
  •   Reyes Vidal

Of the exclusive options, the heterosexual characters are: Cora, Liam, and Jaal. Peebee and Vetra are bisexual, while Gil and Suvi are homosexual. Of the three fling options, Avela Kjar is heterosexual while Keri T’Vessa and Reyes Vidal are bisexual. An important mechanic to note, in Mass Effect games, there are squad members, people who go on missions with you and are a part of your main team. This is important because it is where many people draw a large critique of the queer romance content in Mass Effect: Andromeda. When the player romances a squad member, there is more game content and dialogue for the player to interact with, which is why many players prefer to only romance squad mates, to have in game content and world building. However, the only two exclusively homosexual options are not squad mates. Also, if you were to play as a gay male, the only two options you have for romance is Gil Brodie, an exclusive relationship but with less content (due to the fact that he is not a squad member) and Reyes Vidal, a fling option with a minor story impact.

Homosexual characters didn’t show up in the Mass Effect series until Mass Effect 3, with the only queer representation being hyper-sexualized bisexual women. The only bisexual man, Kaidan Alenko, wasn’t in-game bisexual until the third game (he was considered heterosexual for the first two games), and for the player to romance him as a man, the player must have: saved Kaidan from death in Mass Effect 1, not exclusively romance anyone in Mass Effect 1 or 2 (a huge part of in-game content, as mentioned), and keep up positive relations with him by choosing specific dialogue. All four homosexual characters, across Mass Effect 3 and Andromeda, are not squad members, thus reducing the content dedicated to the characters greatly. Both homosexual men options are reduced a tokenized story-line. In Mass Effect 3, Steve Cortez is a mechanic whose entire storyline is based around losing his husband and that is the majority of the dialogue between him and the player is about. With the player’s third conversation with him, he is listening to a recording of his last conversation with his husband, for no reason than to mention that it is the only thing he saved from earth. If you do not wind up romancing him or developing his story line, he winds up dying in an act of reckless abandon, playing on the “gayngst” story trope3.

Gil Brodie in Mass Effect: Andromeda also has a very tokenized story line. Gil is also a mechanic but has a best friend, aptly named Jill, who is a fertility expert for the initiative. Jill gives Gil a lot of grief about not having kids, saying that “if he’s not making babies, he’s part of the problem”. Though Gil plays it off as their “unique relationship”, however this plays on the real life homophobic view that many hold: that being homosexual is “unnatural” because it doesn’t lead to reproduction (Hernandez, Patricia). The fact that the storyline of the only exclusive homosexual male is based in homophobic “jokes” makes many queer players uncomfortable pursuing that storyline, leaving them only with a fling romance option, and less content.

Transgender indie game creator Anna Anthropy provides insight as to why tokenized queer characters do not qualify as positive queer representation:

Token characters are not the product of queer experiences. Actual queer experiences offer perspectives on identity, on struggle, and on romance that could be entirely different…

There is also a lack of effort put in to the animation of the queer romance and sex scenes in Mass Effect: Andromeda. In all bisexual and homosexual romance end scenes, there isn’t an explicit sex scene, but rather, a fully-clothed fade to black and an implication of sex. This contrasts with the heterosexual romance end scenes of Cora and Jaal, where there is nudity and the beginnings of sex before the fade to black. There are two exceptions to this: Liam, a heterosexual romance option, doesn’t have an explicit sex scene, while Peebee, a bisexual romance option, does. However, when looking at the animation of the sex scene for Peebee, she is riding Ryder (no pun intended) in the same way and motion. The perception is that the animators, rather than correctly animating a lesbian sex scene, reused the same penis-riding animations from the heterosexual sex scene. In the romance scenes of one of the fling options, Reyes Vidal, there is a serious gap in quality between the animation if the player plays as a female Ryder versus a male Ryder, making the romance queer. The female Ryder and Reyes animation is fluid and full of small attention to details, while many have pointed out that the male Ryder and Reyes animation is clunky and awkward. The fact that there is such an animation difference and a lack of explicit queer sex scenes makes many queer gamers feel as if the queer relationships were treated as an afterthought or not as serious as the heterosexual romances in the game.

Alongside that, McDonald found that, in her research, that for a game to positively reflect queer representation, it must “make sure that the romance somehow continues after consummation; the characters should grow and change in some way as a result of having had the romance” (McDonald, Heidi). This element of development that McDonald has illustrated provides evidence to the claim that Mass Effect is straight media. In Mass Effect, the romance that the player pursues with a character, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity, stops being relevant to the plot and game after the player has had intercourse (or implied intercourse) with their romance character. Anna Anthropy helps to define this idea and provide evidence as to why Mass Effect is a straight game, rather than a queer one,

…most straight games are interested only in the pursuit. once the girl (or if you’re playing a BioWare game and you’ve hit the right checkbox, the boy) has been won over, the game stops being interested. Whereas queer games tend to explore the actual dynamics within the relationship.

The fact that the romance stops being relevant to the game after consummation in Mass Effect, reinforces the inherent straightness of the game and the catering towards heterosexual ideals.

An in-game mechanic to incentivize players to complete certain aspects of the game is called an “achievement” and to fully “complete” a game, you must gather all the achievements. In Mass Effect: Andromeda, there is an achievement entitled “Matchmaker” where the player must romance three different characters to complete the game. Unlike previous Mass Effect games, in Mass Effect: Andromeda, fling romances count towards the progress of the Matchmaker achievement. The problem, however, is that there are only two queer romance options for a male Ryder. So, if a player wishes to complete this achievement, and thus complete the game, they must make their Ryder heterosexual. It is important to note here that in McDonald’s study, she found that 49% of queer gamers always play as their sexuality if the option is available. That means, that 49% of the homosexual men gamers that want to complete the matchmaker achievement must make their character straight. In an article on the gaming journalism website Kotaku, author Patricia Hernandez quotes fan J Mittelstadt, “We cannot even gain an achievement unless we play as straight [male] Ryder (which sounds like conversation therapy to me and is no way attracting me)” (Hernandez, Patricia). The fact that fans are interpreting this lack of insight and inclusion from BioWare as an analogy to conversion therapy, where queer people are forced to become straight through harmful methods, contributes to the conclusion that Mass Effect is heteronormative media with a queer mask.

To further analyze the question of whether Mass Effect is queer media or not, we have to look at the reintroduction of the presence of the body in the virtual space. In the 1980s and 1990s, a techno- utopian rhetoric formed from the beginnings of the internet. Megan Condis summarizes this idea in her academic article, No Homosexuals in Star Wars? BioWare, ‘Gamer’ Identity, And the Politics of Privilege in A Convergence Culture:

The Internet was an ideal venue to solve problems like discrimination on the basis of race and gender, because it would allow users to forgo embodied social interactions, to leave their bodies behind and present themselves to others only on the basis of their personalities… the Internet would enable us to evolve beyond the petty concerns of heterosexism and homophobia because it had already evolved beyond the body and to bring those concerns back into a virtual community would be to import unwelcome, unnecessary problems from the physical realm.

Looking through the lens of this techno-utopian rhetoric, people have come to view the Internet as a bodiless space that transcends the real-life notions of racism, sexism, and homophobia. Many gamers have come to expect a bodiless, identity-less space in online communities and many see it as the main purpose for the virtual world’s existence. Based in this rhetoric, many dedicated fans and consumers of the Mass Effect franchise have spoken out against the identification of characters as queer, among many defining factors. The belief is that, if characters are identified with specific sexual orientations, that that reintroduces the physical body, and thus the bigotry that accompanies it. When the body is reintroduced by people asking for queer characters, the people who believe in this techno-utopian rhetoric conform to the idea that those people are also responsible for the hateful comments they receive as a result of their reclamation of the queer body. The blatant defining of queer characters in a video game is seen as a political move by both other gamers and the developer themselves. Condis explains this by saying, “any attempt to lobby for a more inclusive stance toward queerness is understood to be an attempt to rudely divert discussion away from the game itself and toward what is perceived as a personal, political agenda…” (Condis, Megan).

However, to be fully counted as queer media, or at least, positive queer representation, Mass Effect must reintroduce the body into virtual space. If a body is not explicitly defined within the terms of sexuality, gender, race, or ability, it is assumed to be “a member of the dominant class: a white straight able-bodied male” (Condis, Megan). Ironically, when gamers enforce this bodiless rhetoric of no identified gender or sexuality, it automatically reinforces the identity and “the privileged status of straightness and maleness” and goes against their tenant of letting people “live and let live online as they see fit” (Condis, Megan). In reading Tosha Yingling’s Fat Futurity, we can draw parallels between the importance of representation of all bodies in a virtual space, looking at both fat bodies and queer bodies. Yingling says,

In these realms, digital identity can serve as a form of self-creation and subversive representation for marginalized bodies, in this case, fat flesh. As a person digitizes their identity, they have the freedom to represent fat as desirable, confident, unapologetic, fierce, fashionable, human.

While important for the inclusiveness of fat bodies, this idea of digital identity serving as “a form of self- creation and subversive representation for marginalized bodies” is essential to apply to the reclamation and reintroduction of queer bodies in virtual spaces as well. By labeling characters as queer, it helps queer people see their body as normal instead of being erased for, what Condis describes as “a universal silent sameness” which is ultimately read as straightness, what is perceived as the default orientation.

Yingling’s fat futurity also details an element of the techno-utopian rhetoric that Condis describes in her essay, “The mysticism of the screen divide… makes us believe that on the internet the body is left behind and the mind released from the mortal limitations of the flesh. However, the fat avatar complicates this idea as many bloggers are embracing their flesh on the internet as a form of re-embodiment that transcends this”. The use of the fat avatar by online fat bloggers relates to the mentioning of queerness in gaming environments, providing a basis to reclaim the body in cyberspace. Fat bloggers use their fat avatars, the physical representation of their bodies to reembody their physicality. Queer gamers use the physical depiction of queer characters and representation of queer romance in games to explore and accept their sexuality because real life may not allow them to. Going back to Heidi McDonald’s Romance in Games study, she found that 52% of gamers only ‘sometimes’ play their sexuality, which is either because the option is not available to them or because they are experimenting with a new sexuality. The latter idea is supported by the other information that McDonald gathered, that 64% of male gamers identify as straight but ‘sometimes’ play different sexualities.

For Mass Effect to be considered positive queer representation, despite some obvious technical differences, BioWare must explicitly state the queerness of a character and thus, reintroduce the queer body, which is what they have done. BioWare must also respond to feedback and discourses provided by queer gamers and their allies. Lori Kido Lopez details the importance of fan activism around Asian representation in media in her piece, Fan Activists and The Politics of Race in The Last Airbender. Kido Lopez says,

Some of the organization’s strongest and most effective tactics rely on the skills developed as members of the fan community: honing their arguments through community discussions, producing and editing multimedia creations, educating themselves about every facet of their issue, and relying on their trusted networks to provide a database of information.

We can apply the same importance of fan activism for Asian representation in a whitewashed Avatar: The Last Airbender to a heteronormative video game culture. When BioWare included blatant queer content in their other game franchise, Dragon Age, specifically Dragon Age II, there was an outcry from fans against that inclusion of queer bodies, with claims that BioWare was neglecting “their main demographic: the straight male gamer”. In contrast, many people voiced their support of the queer characters in Dragon Age II. Senior writer on Dragon Age II, Gaider, responded to the straight male gamer outcry by saying, “privilege always lies with the majority. They’re so used to being catered to that they see the lack of catering as an imbalance” in support of queer fans who spoke in favor of the inclusion.

That inclusion of queer bodies should be positive and normalized, something that BioWare is lacking in the Mass Effect franchise. BioWare profits off of the commodification and sexualization of the “Other”. Author bell hooks illustrates the Other as any body that is “other” than the dominate white straight cisgender man. In Eating the Other: Desire and Resistance, hooks says, “When race and ethnicity become commodified as resources for pleasure, the culture of specific groups, as well as the bodies of individuals, can be seen as constituting an alternative playground where members of dominating races, genders, sexual practices affirm their power-over in intimate relations with the Other” (hooks, bell). Though hooks is talking about race and ethnicity in her description, we can apply her analysis to the sexualization and commodification of queer bodies as well. Another aspect of BioWare and Mass Effect sexualizing the Other can be seen in the alien race, the asari. As stated in the official Mass Effect art book, “one of the main species in Mass Effect [the asari] would be a race of beautiful, blue alien girls. An extensive exploration of the idea led to the asari appearing exotic and alien while desirable as potential love interests” (Helper, Chris et al.). The asari were originally created to be catered to the male gaze and for them to be seen as sexual beings. Yes, the asari are all bisexual (they are a monogender species). However, Mass Effect is catering the inclusion of bisexual and lesbian content, also to the heterosexual gaze. Matthew Wysocki, in his book, Rated M for Mature: Sex and Sexuality in Video Games, he illustrates,

…in twenty of the twenty-two4 relationship arcs, which culminate in sexual cutscenes, players are shown women in positions of sexual availability either individually or as a part of a lesbian couple. From this perspective, in 90 percent of sexual cutscenes, players are exposed to scenarios that could be sexually agreeable to heterosexual males.

In the explicit sex scenes in Mass Effect: Andromeda, the only nudity seen (other than butt, which, is that even considered taboo nudity anymore?) are the breasts of female and women-identifying characters, including the player, if they are playing as a female Ryder. No penis is seen, even on the alien man, Jaal. From this, it can be concluded that these scenes are still being catered for the male gaze, including the lesbian sex scenes, which shows the sexualization of queer Otherness

In reference to BioWare and Mass Effect’s commodification of the queer body, the queer otherness, we can go back to Megan Condis’ essay. Condis points out,

However, it is important to note that this responsiveness is directed toward the desires of one group of users and against the desires of another… In this case, inclusive, democratic outcomes to the question of whether or not to implement queer content were made possible because BioWare’s profit motive coincided with the expressed desires of some… it came about as the result of a calculation made on the part of the developer. BioWare believed that inclusiveness was a money-making proposition.

In this case, BioWare has shown that they will move where the profit is. If they have a monopoly on queer video game content, with McDonald’s findings that “85% of all [queer] characters listed were from the BioWare”, then the profit coming from queer gamers wanting representation outweighs the money from straight male gamers, who can find representation anywhere. So then why does queer representation get shafted by BioWare? In her discussion of the Other, hooks says, “marginalized groups, deemed Other, who have been ignored, rendered invisible, can be seduced by the emphasis on Otherness, by its commodification, because it offers the promise of recognition and reconciliation” (hooks, bell). Queer bodies have been rendered invisible by years and years of heteronormative catering, that they have been “seduced by the emphasis on Otherness, by its commodification, because it offers the promise of recognition and reconciliation”.

Because they know that queer gamers will still buy their games. Even if it’s the littlest drop of queer content that varies extremely from the heterosexual content, it’s the only inclusion of queerness in a desert of heteronormative video games. Many gamers view the queer inclusion in Mass Effect to be a “promise of recognition and reconciliation”. It may not be great now, but it’ll lead to greater representation in the future.

To conclude this essay, we should look at the question I proposed: is Mass Effect queer media or is it heteronormative media with a queer mask? Given the evidence of lack of queer content and quality, the commodification and sexualization of the other, we can answer that the Mass Effect franchise is heteronormative media with a queer mask. However, the Mass Effect franchise has reintroduced the queer body into a bodiless space, and though commodifying it, is sparking a conversation about the importance of representation in a culture where white straight men are the dominant class. As of writing this paper, BioWare is promising to include more queer male content in a patch soon to be released, allowing players to complete the Matchmaker achievement without making their male Ryder character straight. Given these points, the Mass Effect franchise can be considered queer media. It is up to the consumer and the effort made to educate themselves.


1 Queer, in this essay, is used as an umbrella term to define non-heterosexual identities or identities that fall under the LGBTQIA+ category.

2 The level of romance in the Mass Effect series is defined through two ideas: exclusivity and flings. Exclusiveity means that once the player has locked into romancing that character, they cannot seriously romance anyone else. Flings mean that the romance is casual and engaging in a fling does not prevent the player from entering another fling or exclusive romance.

3 “Gayngst” is a combination of the words “gay” and “angst”. This is used to refer to a common narrative trope in media where a character’s misery or downfall is attributed to their queer sexuality.

4 Rated M for Mature: Sex and Sexuality in Video Games was published on October 22, 2015, five months and one day before Mass Effect: Andromeda was released, so those romance characters are not included.


REFERENCES

Anthropy, Anna. “Now We Have Voices: Queering Videogames”. Auntie Pixelante, 2013, http://auntiepixelante.com/?p=1888.

Condis, Megan. “No Homosexuals In Star Wars? Bioware, ‘Gamer’ Identity, And The Politics Of Privilege In A Convergence Culture”. Convergence: The International Journal Of Research Into New Media Technologies, vol 21, no. 2, 2014, pp. 198-212. SAGE Publications, doi:10.1177/1354856514527205.

“FAT FUTURITY”. Feral Feminisms, 2017, http://www.feralfeminisms.com/fat-futurity/. Helper, Chris et al. The Art Of The Mass Effect Universe. 1st ed., Milwaukie, OR, Dark Horse

Books, 2012,.

Hernandez, Patricia. “Underwhelming Gay Romance Options In Mass Effect: Andromeda Disappoint Many Fans”. Kotaku.Com.Au, 2017, https://www.kotaku.com.au/2017/03/underwhelming-gay-romance-options-in-mass-effect- andromeda-disappoints-many-fans/.

hooks, bell. Black Looks: Race And Representa- Tion. 1st ed., Boston, South End Press, 1992,.

Kido Lopez, Lori. “Fan Activists And The Politics Of Race In The Last
Airbender”. International Journal Of Cultural Studies, vol 15, no. 5, 2011, pp. 431- 445. SAGE Publications, doi:10.1177/1367877911422862.

McDonald, Heidi. “Romance In Games: What It Is, How It Is, And How Developers Can Improve It”. QED: A Journal In GLBTQ Worldmaking, vol 2, no. 2, 2015, pp. 32- 58. Michigan State University Press, doi:10.14321/qed.2.2.0032.

Wysocki, Matthew. Rated M For Mature: Sex And Sexuality In Video Games. 1st ed., London, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2015,.

Representation as a Means of Progression

Representation as a Means of Progression

Video games are more influential to our progression as a society and humanity than we think. Games and the concept of gaming having been around since prehistoric times. The first games were carved out of bone, something anyone could get their hands on. Wealthy and working class alike played dice games to do everything from predict their future to just have fun. Due to the universal nature of games, it brought us together as human beings, uniting us under the need to escape our current boring life, relax, and have fun. This unifying need can be seen throughout modern development in gaming, with the creation of video games, defined by Merriam-Webster as “an electronic game played by means of images on a video screen and often emphasizing fast action”.

Per the Entertainment Software Association, over 155 million people in the United States play video games and four out of five American households contain a device used to play video games. That can be a PlayStation 4 (PS4), an Xbox One, even a laptop. And with the recent release of the Nintendo Switch, video games are even more saturated in our culture, ranking in importance next to movies, television, and food. Video games connect us with people all over the world, uniting us under that same idea that influenced prehistoric dice games so many years ago: to escape reality and have fun.

But there is an argument that I’m trying to present here, and that argument can be introduced by the simple observation that the majority of video games from the last decade have featured heterosexual protagonists or cover characters. Why does that matter? Other than the fact that queer people exist and deserve accurate representation, over 65% of LGBT consumers play video games. So, a solid chunk of those 155 million people video gamers are LGBT. “Gaymers”.

Looking at the top games from 2016, such as Uncharted 4, Firewatch, The Witcher 3, Hitman, Tom Clancy’s Division, their main characters or cover characters are straight men. Now, I’m not saying this makes the games bad, Uncharted 4 and Firewatch were in my personal top 5 for 2016, but I am saying that this makes them pretty blasé when it comes to the concept of character diversity.

As a queer person, finding a character that I didn’t meld together in a Bioware (Mass Effect and Dragon Age series) character creator and then, through intricate courting dialogues chosen by yours truly, had date the only other gay character, is a challenge. Though there are characters sprinkled in here and there, such as Bill in Naughty Dog’s The Last Of Us and Mislav in CD Projekt’s The Witcher 3, queer characters are rarely featured, are essential to a story line, or a main character. And when they are included, they fall under many stereotypical tropes like the “Tragically Gay”, where something terrible happens to the character, a direct relation to their queerness, and lives in isolation and despair for the rest of their lives. Good examples of characters that fall victim to this are Bill in Naughty Dog’s The Last Of Us and Mislav in CD Projekt’s The Witcher 3.

When characters are queer, they should be described in game as being so. Many game developers tend to go the route of “It’s up to audience interpretation” which is cool, too an extent, but doesn’t count as true representation or up their diversity quota. When developers take the “interpretation” route, they are taking a safe route, not blatantly saying a character is queer but not angering “gaming purists”, who claim that better representation is forcing a politically correct, social justice agenda on video games.

This actually isn’t a bad thing but the keyword in their argument is “forcing”, a negatively connotated word. This escape route for game devs tells queer players that they shouldn’t be open about their identity and is something they should keep hidden, all while allowing characters to participate in blatant acts of heterosexuality and confirming other characters as straight. This alienates queer audiences even more because it reinforces the idea that the default is heterosexuality.

Now despite my negative perspective from the last couple of paragraphs, there have been solid examples of queer characters in many mainstream video games. One of the main characters in Gearbox’s Borderlands, Axton, was confirmed to be bisexual in a downloadable content (DLC) extra for the main game. Axton’s bisexuality was originally a coding error, a flirtatious line was left in for men while originally just being for the female characters, Gearbox decided to run with it. One of the main characters of Naughty Dog’s The Last of Us and the main playable character in the upcoming sequel, The Last of Us II, Ellie was confirmed to be queer in a DLC where she kissed her best friend Riley. Who was about to die. And did die (see: Tragically Gay trope).

Still, these characters show that mainstream game developers are listening to their audiences and creating more diverse representations in a comically white and straight industry.

Works Cited

Anon, (2015). How diverse are video Gamers—And the characters they play?. [online] Available at: http://www.nielsen.com/us/en/insights/news/2015/how-diverse-are-video- gamers-and-the-characters-they-play.html [Accessed 25 Feb. 2017].

Gravning, J. (2014). How video games are slowly, quietly introducing LGBT heroes. [online] Available at: https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2014/02/how-video-games- are-slowly-quietly-introducing-lgbt-heroes/284017/ [Accessed 25 Feb. 2017].

Jayanth, M. (2017). 52% of gamers are women – but the industry doesn’t know it | Meg Jayanth. The Guardian. [online] Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/sep/18/52-percent-people-playing- games-women-industry-doesnt-know [Accessed 25 Feb. 2017].