We’re Here, We’re Queer and We Love the Legend of Zelda

In a subculture rife with misogyny and homophobia, a few enterprising players are building a movement around the intersection of gamer culture and LGBTQ pride.

Photos & GIFs by Alex Thebez

Upon my arrival at the InterContinental San Francisco, I was greeted by an enthusiastic kid no more than 20 years old, in a blue T-shirt with the word “Sprite” on the front (the fairy, not the beverage). He told me to “please feel free to put your preferred gender pronoun on your nametag.” Over the following three days of GaymerX2, the second annual convention for LGTBQ game enthusiasts, the nametags helped fellow gamers refer to my boyfriend and me by our chosen pronouns (him and him), aided us in addressing a young man dressed up as Sheik  —  an exiled princess from the video game Zelda who dresses as a man  —  (simply “Sheik”); a masculine lesbian dressed as a cyborg (she/her); an indeterminate person with eye shadow, elf-ears, white hair, facial paint, and suit of armor (unknown); and the other 2,000 genderqueer, trans, transitioning, female, male and androgynous game enthusiasts by their preferred pronouns. Of course, even if I slipped up, the attendees were the sort of crowd who took such missteps in good humor. The gamers  —  a term which, in addition to video game enthusiasts, covers fans of tabletop games, card games, and a variety of other non-athletic play  —  I’ve known and met are not prone to taking themselves in a terribly serious matter.

Attendees of Gaymer X2 at the main hall during the closing ceremony.

Like the name cards, the opening ceremony, panels and events featured at GaymerX set it apart from similar events like E3, the premier gaming-industry expo, and Comic Con, the well-known, bi-coastal convention. GaymerX began with a communal reading of the “Safe Spaces Pledge.” Led by Toni Rocca, the President of GaymerX, to a room of several hundred coffee huddling gamers at 10 a.m., the pledge promises attendees won’t use slurs or molest anyone; “refrain from using language that can be considered homophobic, sexist, transphobic, racist, ableist, etc…” and “will ask before touching or taking any pictures of somebody.” After the pledge, we were told what we might find in various parts of the convention: on the fifth floor there would be indie games with titles like Depression Quest and Crystal Warrior Ke$hsa, as well as mainstream titles like WWE2K15. There would also be the much anticipated Cosplay Pageant, as well as a variety of panels on themes ranging from “So you want to write a trans character?” to “Finding a Good Fit: on being fat and queer in gaming.” Several keynote speakers discussed queerness, the concept of play, virtual personas, sexuality, the cultural-political aspect of game-creation, and the concept of “microaggression.”

The Gamergate controversy  —  the maelstrom of online harassment against women that began with a group of gamers (falsely) accusing game designer Zoe Quinn of corrupting ethics in games journalism by courting relationships with writers  —  has thrown attention on the prevalence of sexism and misogyny in the gaming community and the gamers themselves, as well as on a growing and increasingly vocal community of female gamers. (Quinn was at GaymerX showing her game Depression Quest, as was Anita Sarkeesian, who spoke on a panel about women and the Internet; both have been the focus of Gamergate ire.) Yet, the community that remains less well known is that of gay and queer gamers.

Cosplayers as Maleficent and Battle Royale Nurse

Unlike blatant misogyny, outright homophobia in games is rare. There is a way, though, in which the structure of a game reinforces a series of attitudes in minute but omnipresent ways: It can come from the choices you are offered (propose to the Princess or the local bar wench); the way gay characters are portrayed (comical and feckless); or the way other gamers talk to each other (“You totally just pwnd that fag.”) And the idea of a gaming convention for the queer community strikes many as odd, perhaps because the stereotype of a gamer is discordant with that of gays and lesbians. Our image of a video game nerd is almost invariably a heterosexual, usually white or Asian, young man; a high-tech variant of the comic book nerd or Star Trek obsessive; the sort of person caricatured by shows like The Big Bang Theory or Silicon Valley. With the testosterone-soaked themes of games like Call of Duty, we can also include off-field jocks in our repertoire of what we expect a gamer to be. None of this seems to have much room for a demographic that is typically assumed to be solely interested in fashion, dance music, musical theatre, and re-appropriation of Bette Davis tropes.

But this perception of gaming fandom is quite inaccurate. According to a study released this year by the Entertainment Software Association, 48% of gamers are women, people over 36 years old represent a larger percentage of gamers than those under 18 (and in that youthful category women outnumber men), and most have been playing video games for well over a decade. In terms of hours logged and money spent, a gamer is just as likely to be a woman who works in design or a gay man who is an accountant as a straight man who studies computer engineering.