The angry fundamentalists of the church of gaming

Why are gamers such an angry bunch?

I like the idea that the hate storm surrounding Anita Sarkeesian is a surprise to some people. It pleases me that there are still people in the world who possess that level of innocence, that people can still be outraged by the viciousness and ignorance that so many people take for granted when using the Internet.

Sarkeesian you see broke two rules of online communication, the first, which I don’t want to dwell on, is that she forgot to be male. If you want to express any sort of opinion without a penis to give you credibility then you are going to get a certain type of abuse from men, almost regardless of topic.

The second rule she broke however is that she poked the sacred cow, video games.

Gamers are an incredibly diverse bunch as I’m sure we all know, but like with any broad church there are going to be some people in there who are, for want of a better word, fundamentalists.

Gaming is no exception to this and in many ways gaming culture mirrors the structure of an established religion. The younger gamers are often more radical, more extreme in their views and how they express them, the fanboys and the fanatics. The games industry is itself the church, delivering the games which are to be worshipped and revered by the masses. The older generation of gamers tend to view this church with more suspicion, but most, at heart, are still believers.

The big element which links gaming culture to a religion however is just how conservative it is. A lot of gamers do not like change, they will wait like hungry dogs for the next game in a series, but they don’t want it to be too different. Just like the faithful going to church they are expecting to hear what they want to hear, nothing radical, nothing too different, but not word for word what was said last week. It is no coincidence or surprise that so many of the most successful games in recent years are sequels, giving the public more of the same.

You can see evidence of this gaming conservatism if you look at the kind of language that gamers often use to describe new games. New games are jumped upon and embraced of course, but at the same time they are often resented by the faithful. Many games, even successful ones like Skyrim and Battlefield 3, are seen as toned down and casual shadows of the tougher, less forgiving and less accessible games that we cut our teeth on. 

In the face of this orthodoxy the arrival of women on the scene, carrying with them an agenda of change, it is inevitably greeted with vitriol and anger by gamers who perceive their precious stream of the same thing as last year to be under threat. Worse it is not just the women who openly have an agenda who face this wrath; female gamers are also abused merely for the crime of being female. Female gamers are seen as harbingers of some sort of oestrogen induced end of days for gaming, a spoilt little sister who has climbed the rope ladder to our clubhouse and is intending to paint it pink.

It is this conservatism that Sarkeesian’s project confronted, a desire of many gamers to not see things changed. While it only takes a small minority to unleash the torrent of abuse she was subjected to the views held by those who abused her are not that rare, as evidenced by how often they are encountered by female gamers themselves.

This mind set is of course not common to all gamers and gaming does see radical ideas breaking out into the world on a regular basis, but it is something of a concern for anybody wanting to see the medium progress that the biggest titles are always the hardy perennials, Call of Duty, Halo, FIFA, the same Malibu Stacy as last year with a new hat.

To an extent change is already happening, Lara Croft being transformed from a heavily armed blow up doll into a relatable teenage girl wielding a bow is a laudable if clumsy step in the right direction. Of course it could also be seen as an attempt to cash in on The Hunger Games, but even that in itself shows a change in the focus of marketing. Meanwhile recent games like Duke Nukem Forever and Postal 3 which have used their misogyny and crassness as a selling point have been total failures.

Games and gaming are growing up fast and no amount of hostility and rage from the hard line gamers is going to change that.

A gamer of yesteryear. This dying breed will defend its turf to the death.

Phil Hartup is a freelance journalist with an interest in video gaming and culture

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How did Don’t Tell the Bride lose its spark?

Falling out of the love with reality TV’s wedding planning hit.

Steph, 23, from Nottinghamshire, is standing in a drizzly field wearing a wedding dress. Her betrothed, Billy, is running around in a tweed flat cap trying to make some pigs walk in “a continuous parade”. A man from Guinness World Records is watching with a clipboard, shaking his head. Bridesmaids gaze sorrowfully into the middle distance, each in a damp pig onesie.

Thus ends the second wedding in E4’s new series of Don’t Tell the Bride – and the programme’s integrity with it.

When the classic programme, which follows grooms attempting to plan their wedding (punchline: human males doing some organising), began a decade ago on BBC Three, it had the raw spark of unpredictability. For eight years, the show did nothing fancy with the format, and stuck with pretty ordinary couples who had few eccentric aspirations for their wedding day.

This usually resulted in run-of-the-mill, mildly disappointing weddings where the worst thing that happened would be a reception at the nearest motorway pub, or an ill-fitting New Look low heel.

It sounds dull, but anyone who has religiously watched it knows that the more low-key weddings expose what is truly intriguing about this programme: the unconditional commitment – or doomed nature – of a relationship. As one of the show’s superfans told the Radio Times a couple of years ago:

“It’s perfect, and not in an ironic or post-ironic or snarky way. The format has the solemn weight of a ceremony . . . Don’t Tell the Bride is not about ruined weddings, it’s about hope. Every wedding is a demonstration of how our ambitions curve away from our abilities. It’s a show about striving to deserve love and how that’s rarely enough.”

It also meant that when there were bombshells, they were stand-out episodes. High drama like Series 4’s notorious Las Vegas wedding almost resulting in a no-show bride. Or heart-warming surprises like the geezer Luke in Series 3 playing Fifa and guzzling a tinny on his wedding morning, who incongruously pulls off a stonking wedding day (complete with special permission from the Catholic Church).

For its eight years on BBC Three, a few wildcard weddings were thrown into the mix of each series. Then the show had a brief affair with BBC One, a flirt with Sky, and is now on its tenth year, 13th series and in a brand new relationship – with the more outrageous E4.

During its journey from BBC Three, the show has been losing its way. Tedious relationship preamble has been used to beef up each episode. Some of the grooms are cruel rather than clueless, or seem more pathetic and vulnerable than naïve. And wackier weddings have become the norm.

The programme has now fully split from its understated roots. Since it kicked off at the end of July, every wedding has been a publicity stunt. The pig farm nuptials are sandwiched between a Costa del Sol-based parasail monstrosity and an Eighties Neighbours-themed ceremony, for example. All facilitated by producers clearly handing the groom and best men karaoke booth-style props (sombreros! Inflatable guitars! Wigs!) to soup up the living room planning process.

Such hamminess doesn’t give us the same fly-on-the-wall flavour of a relationship as the older episodes. But maybe this level of artifice is appropriate. As one groom revealed to enraged fans in The Sun this week, the ceremonies filmed are not actually legally binding. “It makes a bit of a mockery of the process that the bride and groom go through this huge ordeal for a ceremony which isn’t even legal,” he said. Perhaps we should’ve predicted it would all eventually end in divorce – from reality.

Don’t Tell the Bride is on E4 at 9pm

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.