I began playing online video games in high school, during the rush to bring multiplayer games to the general public. Largely before, gamers could only congregate in rooms on wired connections to a shared server, (affectionately dubbed “LAN parties”) or around a single console where they could play split screen with their friends or family. Gaming then was much simpler–people would only play in-person and didn’t need a several-thousand dollar set-up to have fun. A decade later, the landscape of online gaming appears radically different, the changes bringing a lot of excitement, innovation and joy to the larger community––but with these changes came a cultural shift that merits addressing.
The online gaming community is predominantly male––particularly in certain genres of games, particularly first-person shooters, role-playing games, and sports titles. While to generalize and suggest that only these genres exclusively dominate the gaming community would be wholly unfounded––Animal Crossing’ domination of summer’s sales demonstrates that eclectic titles and genres can still have global reach. However, both the community itself and external research acknowledge the unique potency of these genres. Scholars, led by Manero et al. 2016, defined the term, “hardcore gamer,” which focuses playtime on shooters, role-playing games (RPGs), and sports titles; effectively, Manero et al.’s hardcore gamer represents the very demographic of players who form the most prominent and dedicated communities. Conclusively, they found a strong association between these game genres [those of the hardcore gamer] and time intensivity, violence, and high complexity.1 One could rightfully catagorize the Call of Duty series, Counter Strike: Global Elite and Destiny 2 as games within the genre. While inherently high complexity, violence, and time intensivity do not worsen a game or its community, it does create an additionally stressful environment for players who wish to become more skillful at the game.
Tangibly, an issue of toxicity exists in the gaming community. A few of the games I enjoy, Riot Games’ League of Legends and Blizzard’s Overwatch, struggle with player-bases that worsen the experiences for other gamers. It’s the highly competitive environment, in my experience, that most-strongly breeds toxic outbursts from players towards other players, the game developers, their WiFi connections, a strong cross-breeze or their desk angle. Losing team-based games––as opposed to a single-player game––always feels different, as placing blame on someone else feels easier than accepting one’s own play. It feels like a weird dichotomy, where seemingly normal people will log into games and suddenly will say things to teammates and opponents that one would never say face-to-face. The anonymity of one’s avatar masks a deeper issue, that in one of the last arenas of wholly unregulated free-speech, people often treat each other terribly.
During my free time, and some time that isn’t so free, I’ve taken up climbing the Teamfight Tactics’ competitive ladder. As my roommate and close friends can attest, I spent numerous hours in quarantine attempting to reach Diamond IV––a rank which roughly represented the top 1.3% of the playerbase. Many people who enjoy competitive gaming have a particular rank or milestone that they set their sights on. For me, reaching Diamond IV granted me access to invite-only Riot’s TFT tournaments and some participation in e-sports. In other games, reaching particular ranks or completing achievements comes with prizes, merchandise, or in-game recognition. Bungie’s Destiny 2 operates an entire shop of real items, trophies, and gear that can only be unlocked for purchase if players complete certain challenges. It isn’t particularly surprising, then, that people place more emphasis on the outcomes of these matches. It rewards winning more and losing less, as the more you win, the closer to come to reaching or exceeding that particular goal. Likewise, the outcomes of virtual contests result in tangible rewards and benefits.
The issue only becomes more nuanced when you understand that, often, your matches will be uneven before you begin the match. More highly skilled players will make new accounts with the sole reason of dominating players below them (affectionately called “smurfs”), while other players will join competitive games with the sole intention of ruining the experience for their teammates (often called “being griefed”). Players who want the competitive experience and then encounter these sorts of issues rightfully feel upset; however, the question remains, to what extent is their anger justified? In truth, the inter-player dialogue in most game servers represents a pseudo-reality, where even the most horribly blunted language loses all of its potency. I recall my first time entering a ranked Overwatch match and being berated over my team’s voice comms for making a particular play––a legal and well intentioned play, but one not executed properly. A decade later playing competitive games, I still remember that feeling of being shell-shocked; and yet, I’ve heard much worse profanities, insults and general aggravation in the last decade of playing online.
The line between friendly trash-talk and outright toxic behaviour represents an area that even game developers haven’t seemed to nail down. Beyond outright hate-speech, which is often reprimanded with an account suspension or ban, the rest exists in a grey area that may (or may not) be decided by the game company itself. But without the competitive banter, a fundamental aspect of the experience vanishes. It’s the same sort of machismo that occurs between professional athletes; the game within the game begins when two gifted players begin to answer each other play for play. It’s reminiscent of NBA games where a player from each team would get hot and a single player on the opposing team would match him bucket for bucket. Each time back down the court, always trash talking the other player––a scene one saw on occasion between Lebron James and James Harden in this year’s second round matchup. It’s undeniably a special moment when players seem to transcend the game itself and dial themselves in so closely; and there’s something about the competitive atmosphere between two players that fosters it. Without the potential for such an experience, competitive gaming would lose so much of its lustre. But like most experiences, it comes with the potential to go profoundly poorly. In this, the gaming community as whole must answer to themselves what they are willing to tolerate in exchange for this opportunity.
Works Cited
Manero, B. Torrente, J. Friere, M., & Fernandez-Manjon, B. (2016). An instrument to build a
gamer clustering framework according to gaming preferences and habits. Computers in
Human Behavior, 62, 353-363. doi: 10.1037/t53508-000.
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of Andrews University. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, Andrews University or the Seventh-day Adventist church.