WP1: They Grow Up So Fast: Coming of Age Alongside Video Games as an Industry and Artform

I have so many memories from when I was a kid — from before I could talk, even — of video games. Vivid images of Link running across the fields of Hyrule, of Samus Aran exploring alien landscapes, and of my dad, whose lap I’m sitting on in these memories, teaching me how to hold a controller. He let me pretend I was helping. Good ol’ Jon Crispi. He encouraged me to try on my own for the first time, and I did (but I would hand the controller back to him to fight enemies when I got too scared). If you told me, back then, that some video games would come to be considered a breeding ground for misogyny and bigotry in the ‘gamers’ who played them? I wouldn’t have understood you. I was a toddler. But if I had understood you, I wouldn’t’ve believed you.

As the aughts went on, it became clear that video games could fill the same role as classic Hollywood action films — power fantasy and escape for male consumers — and, in the eyes of some, they could do it even better. Sony’s God of War franchise, for instance, didn’t shy away from intense violence, even toward women (Sulic 2005). As competitive online play in games grew more common too, the space became crowded with young gamers who were unafraid to say anything in the name of trash-talk. Losing a competitive match made you the target of beratement, and could cause you serious self-resentment. Winning a game gave you a temporary break from these blues, and gave you permission to make others feel how you had felt. This is where, in my personal experience, the modern picture of a toxic gamer began; over the years, it’s in many ways only worsened.

Thanks to my father’s guidance, I always understood video games as a medium for stories. A chance to explore emotions and express feelings — feelings enhanced by a sense of achievement and skill. Video games were a tool my father used to show he loved me. It’s baffling that we got from there to a group of teenagers throwing slurs at one another in the game chat of League of Legends. The reality is we didn’t — or I didn’t, at least. My father started me off with the best possible outlook on video games. He (consciously or not) understood them as and treated them as a method of interpersonal connection, like any other art, and looking back I think he was far ahead of his time. I didn’t have to grow into, through, or out of any phase where games were a toxic pastime. I imagine most people, no matter their age, who engage in the toxic side of gaming never had a role model who helped them see games as “art.”

Now, those are some pretty big scare quotes. What do I mean by that? What makes something art is incredibly subjective — but that’s the whole point of this paper. The industry of games is at a turning point — like the early days of the motion picture — between being seen as purely entertainment and being seen as having artistic value. The further we lean into this shift, the more doors we open for games that teach us empathy; we allow for and normalize games that have a heart.

The qualifications for what makes something art are not hard and fast rules, even outside the sphere of games. In the world of visual art, in fact, it’s historically been about wealth and access. In filmmaking, debates about which films are art still occur regularly. Martin Scorsese feels like Marvel movies aren’t art, we might look down upon our favorite Disney Channel Original Movies, and some people might simply dislike even the most critically acclaimed films. But what’s really important is the idea that most people understand that films can be art. Most people understand that visual art can be valuable, even if there is some undefined and undetectable line between hobbyists and artists. When it comes to video games, there are large portions of the population who see them as entertainment and nothing more. I’d equate it to watching sports. Sports certainly take skill, and have value as entertainment, but they are not an artform. Most unfortunately, some of the people who hold these views are within the industry and community itself.

When this focus on entertainment comes from within, it drives production of games for profit. The long running Call of Duty franchise is one of the best examples of production within this viewpoint. Game critic Jacob Geller has interrogated the nature of Call of Duty’s story components. He says that the games don’t care about having a moral stance, or believing in right or wrong (2019). They are built truly and fully on a power fantasy, classifying them in an almost essentialist way as entertainment. It’s no shock then when we find the spaces surrounding these games full of entitlement. It’s not that violent or entertaining games create toxic male gamers, but that they fail to challenge the ideas about masculinity that are pervasive in our culture.

Working for the acceptance of games as art has been a slow battle, and it still has a way to go. In certain spheres, however, there are developers and consumers who hold video games to high esteem as a beautiful and artistic medium. By prioritizing the creation of games with values in mind, we can move away from the games culture of the aughts, and toward a more sustainable and inclusive picture of masculinity in games.