It is not often that gamers take the public spotlight.
ver the last several weeks the subject of my senior independent research project has come up in quite a few conversations, and it has raised quite a few brows. "I'm writing on the concept of video games as a viable conduit for literature," I say. One professor asked, "Adam, is anyone buying that?"
At first, this question threw me off-base a little. To my knowledge, most people who have played video games in their lives will acknowledge the potential for superb story-telling and depth, though they will also be aware that many games fail to realize such a potential. Yet here I was dealing with someone who had never played a game. From what, precisely, had she formed an opinion on the medium?
It is typical for the mature gamers to commiserate over the unfortunate (seeming) omnipresence of pre-pubescent, foul-mouthed players that populate the digital landscape in which we purport to spend our leisure time. Perhaps we have forgotten that those players — en masse — constitute the siblings, children, neighbors, students, classmates, and teammates of a tremendous number of non-gamers.
The result is that many people learn to consider games, at best, an immature and unruly expenditure of time and money to be grown out of as quickly as possible; at worst, a brain-rotting, socially-atrophying lifestyle to be avoided at all costs. As conscientious gamers, we face a rising tide of hostility towards our cherished pastime. If we continue to permit that tide to rise unabated, we may drown in it.For people to whom Halo-obsessed teenagers are the only exhibit of gaming culture, a "gamer" is someone you'd prefer not to even be associated with, let alone to become.
This unfortunate impression is reinforced by media attention which, particularly in the past several years, focuses exclusively on the potential (and, notably, unproven) negative psychosocial effects of violent gaming. To wit: in the Wikipedia article discussing the tragic Columbine High School massacre of 1999, the section on video games as a factor in the killing is larger than the sections on social climate, bullying, "goth subculture," and music combined.
As conscientious gamers, we face a rising tide of hostility towards our cherished pastime. And if we continue to permit that tide to rise unabated, I fear we will drown in it. Yes, the voices of all those obnoxious kids on Xbox Live are loud — and yes, the media likes to focus on the downside — but we, too, have voices, if only we are willing to raise them.
On November 2nd, the Supreme Court of the United States will convene to discuss video games. Granted, the case at hand is technically a matter of Californian law, sales, and labeling. But as with many SCOTUS cases, this is about precedent: the ESA argues on the basis of free speech and artistic expression, and a judgment in the Association's favor will more or less translate to a legal legitimization of the claim of games to the title of art. The opposite is also true: if California wins, gamers lose, and research like mine becomes anathema.
It is not often that gamers — who have built a culture around being considered fringe — take the public spotlight. Yet now, for a brief moment, we have it, an opportunity to bring up conversations with coworkers and peers, friends and family, and to present a different side to the story they have been hearing for twenty years.
The window is small, but it is there.
And it is open.
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