DECEIT - Why Girl Gamers Aren't Welcomed

I have been a member of the online gaming world since the first “Cow Box” (READ: Gateway Computer) found a home in our Upper West Side apartment when I was 16 years old. To put it in perspective, that was the year 1999. Ancient, right? It was a literal marvel to me that after listening to the cacophony of electronic sounds that signaled your AOL internet connection being established, I could cruise the world wide web. Of course, these were the glory days of sites that resembled a black sheet of construction paper littered with oddly spinning cartoon characters and neon words…but none of that mattered. We were connected to something larger than ourselves. We were connected to each other while absent in body. We rode a highway filled with information that could be accessed by mere keystrokes. Entertainment possibilities were expanded to epic proportions in a swiftly evolving creature that crawled through wires and over airwaves.

It did not take long before I discovered the fascinating world of text-based RPGS (roleplaying games, for the uninitiated), and dove head-long into the idea of becoming someone other than myself. Being a budding theatre student, I fell in love with the concept of filling a role, breathing life into a story in real-time, and doing so without the judgment of an audience’s eyes on my actual person. I was not bound by my appearance in any way; hair color, weight, facial appeal, even gender had no bearing. You could be whoever you pleased. Such escapism was almost romantic in its charm.

At the age of 37, I still have not lost my desire for play…for exercising my imagination…for sliding out of the real world and blowing a few brain cells here and there. At the end of a work day, once everyone in the household is fed, and the laundry is put away, I am content to hunker down with a bold cup of Joe and a look-see at my Steam account to figure out what might be the fit for the night. But this time, I am usually shoving an earbud in and navigating Discord call invites, while entering game-worlds where at least one of my identifiers is revealed; my voice.

One of my more recent go-to games is called “Deceit” and, as of this writing, it is available on the Steam store gratis. The premise is simple, if not a well-worn trope: A madman of sorts has captured you and five other people in his terrifying playland and you have to fight your way out by hook or crook. There is a twist, of course. Two of you have been injected at random with some form of infectious substance that causes you to lust after blood and turn into a horrific terror at regular intervals when the lights go out in the landscape. If you are an ‘innocent’, your job is to identify the terrors and murder them, whilst grabbing gear to survive until you can discover the escape hatch. If you are ‘infected’, you are to stonewall the innocents at every turn, feasting on them in the darkness, and ensuring they never make it out alive.

Fun, ya? It actually can be. It’s quirky, adrenaline-pumping, and…relies heavily on a player having a microphone connected so they can interact in real-time with their fellow gamers.

So, back to the voice identifier, which is the real crux of the issue. I am a woman. And I sound pretty feminine when I speak. I am also not a teen and have the weight of my age in this voice as well. So, I log into Deceit and queue up for a game with the exuberance of learning something new and trying my hand at a form of entertainment that lets me practice my acting chops. Have to dupe them all, don’t you know? It should be filled with levity. It should be fun, in its simplest terms.

Round One: I discover an infected person drinking blood and call it out to the other players, as one is supposed to do.

“Ugh. Are you a woman? I hate playing with women.”

“Yeah, it’s a girl. We should rape her.”

Round Two: I log into the game as my preferred character; a female police officer by the name of Lisa. She has dark-skin and a magnificent ‘fro.

“Yo, Lisa, are you actually a girl?”

“Oh man! She IS a girl. Too bad we’re gonna have to lynch her.”

“Can’t find her now since the lights went out. HA! Can’t see her in a dark.”

Round Three: I once again am able to nail who the infected people are and share the information with my fellow gamers.

“This is the problem with women – They don’t know how to shut up.”

“Yeah, this is why we should have never allowed them to vote.”

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

While voices can be deceptive, my hunch based on what I heard is that the vast majority of sexist and racial commentary I heard came from youngsters. Likely teenagers.

Teenagers hiding behind computer screens.

Teenagers holed up in a room away from parental accountability.

Teenagers who have grown up in a world of extreme escapism where one can shoot to kill without the judgment of an audience’s eye on their actual person.

Keyboard Commandos.

I cannot help but see how the shine has worn off quickly not only in the gaming world, but through social media, editorials, and a myriad of other internet communication. As humans, our base natures are enhanced by the bravado of assuming online anonymity and allowing our most provocative and insidious opinions to leak out over the atmosphere.

But this is not bravery. It is not courage. It isn’t even righteous indignation.

It is playground bullying in its most dull shade. And it should be stopped in its tracks.

And saying that is NOT an infringement on freedom of speech. Rather, it is holding each other accountable for the manner in which we handle that liberty until we walk worthy of the responsibility of having it.

What is spoken over and to us has the potential to both affect and infect our psyche. Words have extreme weight, the heaviness of which can create lasting damage. Several news outlets, including the BBC, have conducted research which discovered that cyberbullying in the gamer world boasts double the stats of any other situation or venue. In fact, such online ‘cornering’ has birthed self-harm, emotional disturbance, and even suicide.

I am 37 years old. One would think a person of my age should have a well-weathered skin that is impervious to teasing. In most situations, I am over the teenage angst, yes. In most situations, I am nearly immune to the ‘noise’ of the online world.

But this? No, not this….

Not the spewing of ideas that set a generation’s clock backward. Not by those too young to remember, understand, or fully appreciate the great cost of the measures of equality they are indulging in at present. Not when there is still greater ground to gain that they ought to be leading the charge on.

This particular microcosm of a seemingly ‘silly’ Steam game is showing us a larger problem.

Now that we have seen, we are responsible.