We Share One Story
What it means to be a community of gamers
I started playing video games in 1995.
I got a Super Nintendo Entertainment System and it blew my mind.
I played Starfox for days on end, the idea of being able to fly through space was awe-inspiring.
My older neighbor, two doors over, owned Final Fantasy 4 and lent it to me for a week while he was away at summer camp.
Rydia using summoning magic to tear down mountains. Cecil’s transformation from Dark to Light. Battling Golbez and hearing his ominous theme.
There has never since been a game that has more fully captured my imagination.
But it wasn’t just that the games were amazing, it was that I kept finding other people who shared my story.
We would instantly relate — those digital moments catalyzing new relationships and making us feel like we’re a part of something bigger — we shared our wonder together and it blossomed into a community.
Even as this happened, new voices weighed in on our wonder.
Being a gamer is hard.
No, not turning on your console or hopping onto your always powered on PC — it’s what happens when the light from the monitor fades, and you need to move into your school, work or family life — that’s where being a gamer is really, really hard.
If you’re a gamer, this next part is obvious.
I don’t need to explain to you what it’s like to have family members judge you and call you out for wasting your time. School bullies who use words like Nerd & Geek (and worse) to shame you for your hobby. Work colleagues who can’t seem to see anything but the Jets as worth having water cooler talks about.
And don’t get us started on video games and violence.
It seems that every well-meaning family member who gets their science from the 6 o’clock news believes in a 1:1 correlation between playing games and doing violent acts.
Even though video games causing desensitization and aggression has been called into question, our culture focuses on demonizing gaming. This masks greater problems of mental health, family abuse and lack of social support for people going through these difficulties.
And yet, we are not blameless in our own treatment of one another as gamers.
Because many of us who self-identify as gamers have been through these experiences, we are often mistrustful, harsh and elitist in our treatment of others, especially new gamers. One doesn’t need to look far to find examples of online bullying, harassment, and outright toxicity — the very things gamers ourselves fear from others.
We also tribalize around games.
We create hierarchies in our mind of the greatest games worth playing, and judge others for not playing, or not being good enough. We can even ignore potential friendship and connection if others don’t play our favored game.
I write these things to confess my own complicitness, but also to say:
Gamers — we can do better.
The gaming community, while growing every day, is still a small thing.
Because many of us feel isolated, it prevents us from joining a larger community and finding support within it. This means that each person’s influence is magnified. Your words, positive or negative, make huge waves for gamers everywhere.
We can do better.
We are rightly defensive because of how many of us are treated on a daily basis, but we have no excuse for re-victimizing people within our own community.
Choose to be welcoming.
Choose to be positive.
Choose to connect on an emotional level.
Choose to try a new game.
Choose to defend a new player.
Be aware that each time someone types “lol git gud kid”, “f$#%ing scrub”, “uninstall”, they are just as hurt as you are.
In my opening story, you may have inserted your own first game that gave you that wonder. And you may have inserted your own stories of judgment and pain but I assure you — you’re not alone.
We’re not alone.
As gamers, we all the share the same story.
We know the isolation and pain that can be caused by judgment from others.
Let’s decide today that we won’t do it to each other anymore.
This is what it means to be a healthy community of gamers.
