Let’s play a game. Imagine I walk up to you, a typical 20-year-old college student, and introduce myself. Moving past the niceties of introductions you inquire what my interests are. “I’m a gamer,” I reply casually. How do you respond? Do you think of me as childish? The word “gamer” has acquired a vile connotation in most people’s vernacular nowadays. I hate being embarrassed to associate myself with my passion.
I recognize my depiction of gamers in this article is not even close to indicative of the majority of players out there. It’s mainly in response to the annoyingly inappropriate perception portrayed in mainstream media.
I shout gamer ironically when a video game ad comes on television. Last week Ubisoft used Drake’s “Started from the Bottom” in their “Assassin’s Creed IV” trailer. Video game advertisements are so ridiculously dumb. Why must they keep feeding this garbage that perpetuates the childish stereotypes associated with the medium?
The worst part is that gaming is arguably the most connected medium in the world. The industry has never had a more diverse fanbase. Its very foundation is built on making connections and creating competition. It’s about taking four Xboxes to a “Halo” LAN party and realizing you forgot the ethernet. It’s about stuffing your mouth with Mountain Dewritos and sometimes being okay with that. Then I remember every joke lambasting Mountain Dew Game Fuel online. When did drinking soda and eating chips become social suicide?
I probably care too much about my public persona. I try to dress up most days, but when I see someone wearing some mainstream video game shirt, I cringe. You keep that stuff hidden away! Then I realize I want to compliment them on their “Portal” shirt and invite them over to play the co-op campaign for the fifth time. My anxiety is only perpetuating the problem.
I go to great lengths to hide my passion from people. I try to only get “tasteful” game posters or shirts that hide their subject so well people may not understand they’re about a video game. It just feels safer that way. They ask what my shirt’s about and I tell them it’s “‘Star Fox’ with real animals.” “Oh,” they reply. Video games.
Gaming is so ubiquitous at this point, when saying I write about video games, I know I relate to the majority of the people. They ask if I played the new “Nazi Zombies” maps yet and I calmly reply, “No,” while groaning in my head. Even among other gamers I shun the idea of appealing to anything associated with the manufactured “gamer” persona.
When people ask me my favorite game I’ve played this year, I would probably say “MirrorMoon EP,” a game where you casually discover new planets while soaking in the gorgeous collage of colors assaulting your eyes. My most anticipated game wasn’t “Grand Theft Auto V,” it’s something called “Burrito Galaxy.”
I guess it’s mainly sobering to realize I hit a point where I can feel embarrassed by my passion. It’s like having your parents show baby pictures to all your friends, except it happens literally every time I tell someone what I write about for a living.
I remember when I could innocently crawl up to my room over winter break to play “Halo” for hours on end. Now I have to think about the glut of annoying voices casually throwing racist remarks around online. I get to see the most vile comment boards on the Internet. I hear every indie developer complaining about the tiring infighting that happens far too often. I liked when I could just drink hot chocolate and play “Viewtiful Joe.”
The stigma behind “gamer” will hopefully change. Right now it’s more a matter of understanding the different degrees of the word. I could chat your ear off about obscure video game analysis; it’s one of the few things I legitimately enjoy debating. I probably won’t though. If you need me, I’ll be the gamer in the back, hiding my profession behind a skinny tie and dress socks.
Want to know the true essence of a “gamer?” Email Adam at arparis@wisc.edu.
