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Playing Dirty: Women Warriors and Fairy Queens
Every other week for the past nine months, Bonnie Ruberg has contributed Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games. Since Bonnie is taking a hiatus to work for The Village Voice, this will be her last Playing Dirty piece--at least for a little while: Female gamers have long rolled their eyes at the role of women in video games. Rightfully so. An overwhelming majority of female characters in mainstream games are either super helpless (think classic Princess Peach) or super sexualized (think Lara Croft). Even nowadays, it's darn hard to come across a decent role model for girl gamers in the games they love. Just finding a reasonably strong female character -- a diplomat into the mostly male world of gaming who can convince men and women alike that beautiful, buxomly women won't always need saving, or even behind-the-scenes manipulation from men -- is itself a serious challenge.But, come on, we know all that already, right?. The question is, what are we doing about it? Which mainstream games are taking up the challenge and defying video game gender roles? Until recently, I would have said almost none -- at least, none in any significant way (a paired-down bosom here, a spin-off game there). Then came Odin Sphere.
Playing Dirty: Going head to head in bed
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games: Like every good story, a good game needs a conflict. Sometimes the conflict is obvious (aliens are attacking Earth, you're trapped in a haunted mansion, someone is trying to kick your ass). Other times, it's less obvious (blocks are falling from the sky, the timer is running out, if you don't collect enough cherries you'll never get that bigger house). Whatever the conflict is though, the goal of the game is always the same: to resolve it. Maybe you kill the aliens, or kick his ass, or fit the blocks into perfect rows. The important thing is you win by overcoming conflict. My question is this: What kind of conflict is there in a sex game?
Playing Dirty: Love on the auction block
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games: Do you ever get the feeling dating is a game? Or that racking up MySpace friends is like scoring points? Or maybe that being charming is all well and good, but you should just be able to bid for girls' attention? Well then, cynical love birds, you might want to check out i'm in like with you. Started by Dan Albritton, an ITP student in New York, and his partner Charles Forman, the self-proclaimed game is like Facebook meets Ebay. Except, of course, that the money isn't real, no one regulates the "services rendered," and there's never any shipping and handling. Unless you count the cost of sending your date back home in a taxi at the end of the night. Or the next morning. Or whatever. Things start out pretty normal in i'm in like with you. You go in, you set up your profile, you pick a sexy "favorite drink." But unlike other social networking sites, the only way you can contact people is by setting up other "games." These games are actually one- to three-day auctions. Usually they're based on questions like "Want to take me out for drinks?" or "Who's the coolest Power Ranger?" Other players bid their points to be one of five top responses to the question. Then whoever started the game picks a winning bidder, and gets the chance to send him a flirtatious message. It better be a good one though, because he just paid for that wink-y smiley face with a hefty chunk of points.
Playing Dirty: Searching for sex in Club Penguin
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games: Sex is everywhere. That's true in real life, that's true on the internet, and that's definitely true in online games. But whether we like it or not, sex doesn't always involve the people we think it should. I'm not just talking about the Second Life-er who tells you she's a twenty-five-year-old woman and turns out to be a forty-five-year-old man. I'm talking about kids. Specifically, I'm talking about sex in online games designed for children. If you came within a fifty-feet radius of Raph Koster at GDC last month, you've probably heard his two cents on the how gaming is being taken over by companies from outside the industry who make games that don't even register on our radar. Koster did mention Korean MMOs, but what he really focused on were kids games. In particular, he pointed the wobbly finger of prediction a virtual world called Club Penguin. With 4.5 millions unique users in December, 2006 alone, Koster claims Club Penguin can rival the largest online games in the world. He seems to be right. My question is, with that many people playing, there must be sex in Club Penguin, right?
Playing Dirty: Lady, get off the road
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games: Men say women are bad drivers. This confuses me greatly. As a woman behind the wheel -- with the token grumpy driver's licence photo to prove I take my on-road duties seriously -- I can't help but raise the issue. Aren't women supposed to be the cautious ones, the ones who look three times before turning, who insist you wear your seatbelt, even down the block? And men, aren't they supposed to zoom down the highway to show off the punch of their motors? I mean, just think about the racing games we design for guys: breaking speed limits, injuring other vehicles, even crashing. They've got "awful driver" written all over them. I admit, I have a personal beef with this "women are bad drivers" thing. I'm one of those really daring people who never goes more than five miles over the speed limit. My friend's father, on the other hand, is a "zoom down the highway" type, complete with sporty convertible. Somehow it always ends up he's circling the supermarket, searching for a parking spot, when an SUV lumbers in and blocks the way. He shouts, "Come on, lady!" From where we're sitting, he has no way of telling whether that's a man or woman. It might as well be a yeti. Gritting my teeth, I wonder: If women are such awful drivers, how come it's men who go crazy behind the virtual wheel? How come racing games are "men's" games?
Playing Dirty: We fit together!
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games: Watching Alexey Pajitnov receive the First Penquin award at this year's Game Developer's Choice Awards, it occurred to me I'd never really thought about the face behind Tetris. Sure, I'd heard Pajitnov's name plenty of times, but the man himself, and that lovable, Santa-bought-hair-dye beard, those were off the radar. Who knows what I expected of the infamous Russian: someone stiffer, more stand-off ish, a gaming visage for the Cold War itself. Not that Tetris has much to do with politics. In fact, for me, the game has always represented something totally different. I associate Tetris with sex. At first, the idea sounds absurd. Colored blocks remind you of sex? Deprived gamer alert! But think about it: the point of Tetris is to make things fit together. Blocks float down to fit in the spaces left open by other blocks. When things fit together right, they make a solid line, a happy, unified whole. When they don't fit right, blocks leave ugly, open patches, the gaping black bane of Tetris existence. To win the game, you need to make sure every block finds its hole.
Playing Dirty: Night Elves on their knees
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games: A beautiful elf has lost her clothes. Now, standing high on a rock, her long, pointy ears aren't the only parts of her body attracting attention. With a pout, she's off to the seashore to ask a friendly pirate to mend her garments -- which she'll need for tonight's raid. But when she can't pay for his services, she's quick to get down on her knees and offer some of her own. Naked on the sand, elf ears still flying proudly, she smiles as her pirate demands he get "his booty." Whorecraft, the hardcore porn series based off World of Warcraft, certainly has a sense of humor. Otherwise, how would its creators ever have thought to turn the old D&D chuckle chuckle, nudge nudge double entendre, "Rogues Do It From Behind," into an eleven-minute porno, shot in, of all places, a state park? The real question though is does it have sex appeal. Of course, Whorecraft hires sexy actors and actresses, and the sex is real enough. But is video-game themed porn itself a turn-on?
Playing Dirty: Getting your game on while you get it on
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games: Valentine's Day is, if nothing else, sexy. Call it about love, call it about chocolate, call it about little pink cards you hand out to your friends. It's really about sex. S-E-X. So there's no better time than the quiet, post-coital lull that settles in after Valentine's Day to take a step back from our passions and reflect: Is sex a game? The question may seem like a strange one at first. Our culture trains us to think of sex as something romantic and meaningful, as "making love." But that doesn't mean it can't be like a game and still retain its sappy dignity. Johan Huizinga, author of Homo Ludens and the granddaddy of all "That is so a game!" theory, slapped the same label on lots of "respectable" human activities, like poetry, philosophy, even war. In fact, he said pretty much anything could be considered a game, or at least play, as long as it complied to a few basic guidelines.
Playing Dirty: The queer hero
This week, Scott Jon Siegel contributes Playing Dirty, Bonnie Ruberg's column on sex and gender in video games:In her last several columns, Bonnie has talked about the role of effeminate men as protagonists in video games. In her examples, she's discussed threats to the heterosexual male archetype, and, I believe, has hinted at the possibility for an even more potent figure: the queer hero.In my mind, the queer hero is almost a challenge to the industry, which so often writes archetypal characters for the sake of easy identification by their audience. Homosexuality has been present in video games for years, but often as a farce -- at best, a flamboyant frog in Rare's Banjo-Tooie but, at worst, figures to be ridiculed, as amusing as a minstrel show.The queer hero is not merely "gay for gay's sake." Rather, I define the queer hero as a protagonist whose orientation is arguably less-than-normative, but which ultimately plays no part in the telling of his or her story. This automatically discredits the lipstick lesbians of Fear Effect 2: Retro Helix, whose "taboo" romance played an overt role in the game's marketing to a young male audience. No, the queer hero is, to put it simply, "cool," and seen as "cool" neither because of his/her sexuality, nor in spite of it. Assuming this character couldn't possibly already exist, I've fantasized for years about the making of a truly great game, with a protagonist who just happens to be gay. But one random, crude webcomic made me double back on my assumption, and take a closer look at one of gaming's most popular franchises. In Resident Evil 4, Leon S. Kennedy, the once-rookie cop from RE2, returns to the series wearing blue-jeans and a bomber jacket -- dressed for success. I played through the entire game without giving it a thought, but looking back, I think I found my queer hero.
Playing Dirty: Dracula wears eyeliner, part II
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:Last week we looked at the changing art style -- and heros -- of the Castlevania series. From manly to effeminate, they've run the range. But there's more to consider here than a pretty face.First off, let's take a look at their weapon choice -- or at least their weapons as they're depicted in the official game art. Old-fashioned Castlevania heros, the ones with rippling muscle and leather attire, are almost always depicted with a whip in hand. Later heros, the ones with lacy frills and high cheek bones, seem to prefer other weapons, like swords.Now, sometimes a weapon is just a weapon, but when it comes to the peculiar case of these super-masculine, super-feminine protagonists, the issue bears a little reading into. The obvious cry would be "Phallic symbol!" But really, what weapon isn't? Instead, the interesting question here is what are these phalluses are up to?
Playing Dirty: Dracula wears eyeliner
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:For Castlevania fans, it's hardly news that the series has undergone some serious shifts in art direction over the years. But with the recent release of the Castlevania retrospective art book -- a Portrait of Ruin pre-order bonus -- it's gotten easier to track just how much things have changed. From romance novel-esque to stunningly stylized to "Didn't I see this anime on Fox Kids?," Castlevania's art aesthetic, if not its gameplay, has covered a vast range. But it's not just the approach that's different, it's the characters themselves. In the beginning, titles like Castlevania II featured heroes with rippling muscles, loincloths, and virile locks of coarse blond hair. In contrast to these manly men, protagonists from later games, like Symphony of the Night, became thin bishounen, elegantly dressed, with delicate and undeniably feminine features. Most recently though, Castlevania heroes have reclaimed some of their traditional manhood. The protagonist of Portrait of Ruin may have fancier duds than the he-men of earlier titles, but he's grown back his six pack, his unromanticized features, and his save-the-day blond bangs.
Playing Dirty: Pretty Pretty Princess
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:I have made a grave mistake. Starting up a new game of Twilight Princess last week, I must have suffered a momentary lapse of sanity. I actually thought it would be a good idea -- just this once -- to change Link's name to my own. I'm the player, aren't I? Why shouldn't dialog text be addressed to me? I deserve some attention, too. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now every time someone speaks to young, heroic Link, they keep calling him "Bonnie." So far, he hasn't really seemed to notice, but it sure makes me feel funny. Girls sweetly bat their eyelashes and say my name. Men entrust me with complicated tasks without questioning whether I can complete them. It's just plain old weird.Link runs, he jumps, he slashes things: everything he's always done. Except now he does it with a girl's name. In thirty seconds of poor judgment, I've made Link a name cross-dresser.
Playing Dirty: Women on the Wii
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:It's so easy, your girlfriend would play. Or your mother. Or your grandmother. Last week at the 2006 Montreal International Games Summit, Reggie Fils-Aimé, president of Nintendo America -- super tall guy, and fun-with-Photoshop favorite -- gave a keynote on marketing the Wii. Besides being a general pep rally for the new console -- Nintendo beats Sony, rah rah rah! -- Reggie's talk stressed the Wii's ability to attract new gamers; specifically, Reggie mentioned older gamers, children, and women. It's no shock that much fewer women play video games than men. So from a business standpoint, it makes sense that Nintendo would want to expand their sales into that new market. But whether the Wii and its PR are doing something "good" for the state of gaming equality, that's a whole other story.
Playing Dirty: That's so gay
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:Puppies are gay. Dancing is for homos. Even Link is a little queer. "Gay" has become a strange, strange word. From happy to homosexual to stupid, it can mean many different things. But there's no ambiguity in an insult like "That's so gay" – the favorite homophobic tag line of defenders of the heterosexual norm. It's like a built-in security system: whatever doesn't fit in gets "outed." Of course, there's no group that fits the heterosexual norm – young, male, straight – better than gamers. At least, that's how we're perceived, and often how we act: as a boys' club. We like big guns, fast cars, hot women. Maybe that's why we're so quick to attack games that lack traditional testosterone. Between forums, blogs, and general grumblings, gamers have declared everything from Nintendogs to Dance Dance Revolution to The Wind Waker (Bright colors? Queer!) "gay." Rockstar's Bully, however, doesn't fit that list. It's not pretty, or cute. If you don't watch out, it might even beat you up for your lunch money. Like the Grand Theft Auto series before it -- and especially the oh-so-controversial, hidden hetero action in San Andreas -- it's a man's game. Which, perhaps, is why we're so surprised to learn that Bully, too, is "gay."
Playing Dirty: Playing with ourselves
Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:"God knows what he does with himself, all alone. He's weird. I mean, he won't hang out with other kids. Probably plays video games." Trapped in a barber's seat with my hair half cut, I'm listening to a forty-something hair stylist describe her new stepson. Maybe he sounds familiar: nice but shy, a little overweight, smart, into fantasy ("that dragon stuff"). Her son rides dirt bikes and has tons of friends. What the heck's wrong with this kid? Note how the speculation about video games gets spat out with extra scorn. The most antisocial behavior this woman can think up for a twelve-year-old boy? The thing he does by himself, in his room, when nobody's around? Games. After all, it's his aptitude for flying solo that really bugs her. He's content to be by himself. Apparently there's something about that that's unnatural, even dirty.
