It’s another Metatopia-inspired post!
There’s something about the rich offerings at this convention – both in terms of design and discussion – that inspire me to examine gaps of experience and conversation in the overall gaming community. Sometimes, as with last year’s extensive 4–part rant, those gaps are noticeable even at Metatopia itself. This year, I noticed once again that there was something missing in the conversation, and it’s missing everywhere.*
(*Almost everywhere. Brie Sheldon’s fantastic ‘zine Behind the Masc is one of the few exceptions I’ve seen, and very much an inspiration for this post.)
I am skeptical about loyalty. I’m not normally one to inspire it, and when I have given it I have not often received it in turn. It’s important for me to say that because I realize it colors the argument I am about to make:
Loyalty is not an inherently positive character trait.
My last post was a rant, so now we get to the follow-up on how to do better.
Specifically, I want to discuss how we can do better as designers. Private games are private games, and we don’t really need to discuss what you do on your own time with your own friends.
But if you’re designing and publishing or talking about your games on a public platform, then that is my concern. It’s everyone’s concern, because it’s public. What you contribute to gaming is part of the ongoing conversation of who we are as a community.
I’ve been debating with myself how I want to handle this, because what I have to say affects people who are friends of some of my friends. On the one hand, that seems like a place to walk carefully, but on the other hand that’s exactly the problem that perpetuates privilege: not speaking out just because you “know” the people. It perpetuates privilege because it leaves the task of criticizing people to those who are outside the group, people who are inherently less likely to be listened to.
So screw it – I’m going to be blunt.
Where Do We Go from Here?
The gaming community has gotten a little tense lately. I’m not going to talk about that specifically, but I will say that this last section suddenly became extremely relevant in my mind as I watched an entire local gaming community collapse in on itself.
I think the points I’ve tossed around in the previous parts can offer some things to think about, but I want to throw out just a few ideas for positive action in shifting away from focusing on our own personal experiences and growing our empathy as a community.
So…with all that said, what is it we’re missing? What design opportunities is the gaming community currently lacking because of its more subtle and pervasive biases?
In this part, I would like to offer for consideration some themes, concepts, and open-ended questions that I hope may spark discussion and even inspiration in the game design community.
I started Part 1 by mentioning the Backstory podcast by Alex Roberts. Since that one was a minor quibble, I think it only fair that I mention the podcast again in a much more positive light.
If you haven’t heard the episode with Jonaya Kemper, you need to go listen to it either right now or (if you’re not in a podcast-listening space) after you finish this article. You then need to go visit Kemper’s website and read and follow everything she does, because she’s amazing. This interview – and all of Kemper’s work – is a master-class in intersectionality.
That’s important because it is the topic for this part. Here’s a headline:
The Intersectionality Gap in the Game Design Community