We Can, But Why Would We? Video Games and the Myth of the Open Industry

So often, when anyone calls for greater diversity in video games, their requests are met with one very common answer: “You want something different? Make it yourself.” These days, we’re told, anyone can make a game. It’s so easy. The tech requirements have been reduced to almost nothing; with a little Googling and a little time, anyone can produce something playable. Sure, you’re not going to self-produce a blockbuster, but indies are legit, and hey, be the change you want to see, right?

It seems so reasonable, and typically, it’s good advice; I’m a big advocate for getting in and getting hands dirty in doing the work of creating a better, more representative world. But when it comes to making video games, despite all the conversation about access, tools, and ability – a point outside the scope of this piece – there’s a deeper issue at play. Yes, we can all go out and make our own games. But at what cost, and is it worth it?

In light of the recent #Gamergate events, I think many women, particularly, who might be considering game design may be thinking twice–and they’re not alone; if my Twitter feed is any indication, a lot of women have been reconsidering involvement in the industry at any and every level — and so might men who support wider strata of representation. If even Tim Schafer, in defending the opinions of the affected, gets told to go kill himself, what are the those others subjected to?

To be a woman in the tech industry in general, not just in gaming, is to be a warrior every day (then again, so is simply being a woman with an internet connection). Maybe not every moment, but every day, some issue related to your very personhood and/or contributions to the sphere may be called into question based purely on the idea of gender. No matter how strong you are, no matter how safe your workspace, women in tech are subject to all kinds of harassment, from simple disparaging remarks on social media to out-and-out threats of rape and death. We’ve seen it again and again; the recent events may have hit the mainstream, but for those of us who have been watching, who have been in it for years, #Gamergate just looked like any other day. That the controversy continues is also no surprise. Business as usual, we tell each other, and go on.

The best a woman in tech can hope for, outside of that mythical unicorn of an opportunity with a good group or company that is somewhat isolated from the public eye, is to be judged on appearance. Any woman judged as attractive enough might be given a pass, unless she does something truly horrifying, like openly talk about feminism (a dire offense); in those cases, discussions start and stop with a chorus of “I would,” without much further discussion.

That’s best-case scenario.

Except there’s nothing much great about that. Smart, capable women are daily reduced to the question of whether or not they’re worthy of the male gaze, which is why I found the recent Dear Kate underwear ads, featuring notable women in tech, somewhat troubling. While I love the idea of a cast of real, diverse women modeling underwear, it’s also reflective of a day-to-day reality in which women are reduced to their sexual bodies. While the shoot was very straightforward and largely untouched by the sort of male-gaze-dominated approach we usually see in lingerie ads, I felt instantly jarred by seeing powerful, smart women working in their bras. Sometimes I already feel naked in professional situations, reduced to nothing but a measure on a fuckability chart.

And that’s still best-case.

Worst case, women are targeted for virulent campaigns, and so are other outliers – men who hold unpopular opinions or who support women, for example, as the attacks rage. When even a legend like Tim Schafer might be targeted and told to kill himself, it’s clear we’re looking at a very vocal subset of the community that raging beyond control in terms of threats and violent behavior.

So, sure, the industry is wide open. Anyone can access contemporary, simple tools to create games. Anyone can make a blog to join in the cultural critique. But increasingly the question must be asked: why would we want to?

When we bemoan the lack of women in tech, in STEM fields, in the gaming stores, when we wonder why there aren’t more women who can share a gaming hobby with potential significant others and friends, look at the Jennifer Heplers, the Anita Sarkeesians, the Zoe Quinns. Hell, look at the comments on any article written by a woman on a gaming blog and just compare, for a moment, responses to similar pieces written by men. Then ask again why more women aren’t involved in games. The answer is staring us all in the face.