Complicating perspectives on diversity in video games
Gamers have been troublemakers as long as games have existed. As our popular understanding of "gamer" shifts beyond its historical construction as a white, straight, adolescent, cisgender male, the troubles that emerge both confirm and challenge our understanding of identity politics. In Gamer Trouble, Amanda Phillips excavates the turbulent relationships between surface and depth in contemporary gaming culture, taking readers under the hood of the mechanisms of video games in order to understand the ways that difference gets baked into its technological, ludic, ideological, and social systems.
By centering the insights of queer and women of color feminisms in readings of online harassment campaigns, industry animation practices, and popular video games like Portal and Mass Effect, Phillips adds essential analytical tools to our conversations about video games. She embraces the trouble that attends disciplinary crossroads, linking the violent hate speech of trolls and the representational practices marginalizing people of color, women, and queers in entertainment media to the dehumanizing logic undergirding computation and the optimization strategies of gameplay. From the microcosmic level of electricity and flicks of a thumb to the grand stages of identity politics and global capitalism, wherever gamers find themselves, gamer trouble follows. As reinvigorated forms of racism, sexism, and homophobia thrive in games and gaming communities, Phillips follows the lead of those who have been making good trouble all along, agitating for a better world.
Amanda Phillips presents a complex (yet under her writing, entirely understandable) argument regarding the trouble posed by gamers, and how it could and should be confronted, and replaced with a more productive form of conflict. I read this book over a long period of time, so I apologize if I'm getting anything wrong, particularly in terms of its earlier sections. In addition to a very well-constructed introduction and conclusion, Gamer Trouble is split into four chapters, each of which examines gaming culture from a different site of discussion, casting a critical look at moments of tension, and the inherent white boy hegemony at the route of many of them. The introduction sets up Phillips' concept of "gamer trouble," how she feels the term needs to be disrupted in a way comparable to gender in Judith Butler's "gender trouble," while maintaining that sense of trouble as a disruptive force that, under the right circumstances, can be righteous as well. The first chapter looks into feminism and violent responses in gaming communities, drawing out the ties between the Penny Arcade Dickwolves moment, the earliest movements in game studies between narratology and ludology, and #Gamergate, and how all three come from the same cultural roots. I really like the way this draws feminist theory into the discussion (particularly the figure of the feminist killjoy), and the word map from Courtney Stanton at the center of the chapter illustrates the larger point really well. The second chapter goes really deep into the unspoken interface of a game, and the way things like character design and motion capture hide assumptions of gender and race, and tie into older discourses of physiognomy and racial science. Once again, what really struck me about this chapter was how Phillips connects the game related issues to larger cultural movements, and I had never really thought about the motion capture points in this larger framework.
The third and fourth chapters are more focused on game analysis, with a deep dive first into the gender representations of Chell from Portal and Bayonetta from, uh, Bayonetta, with a critique of the feminism in Portal and a praise of the queerness in Bayonetta. This is the point where I disagree a bit with Phillips; the queer reading of Bayonetta has been well-established, but I have a hard time getting over the comments the largely male creators have made about her, and their enthusiasm for some of her voyeuristic moments. And with Portal, Chell's silence is a good point, but I think needs to be read in a larger context of the silent FPS male protagonist, especially Gordan Freeman. I don't think she's wrong, given that Freeman is praised by everyone and Chell is constantly criticized, but I think it's an important contrast. And I have some disagreements with the subsequent chapter on Mass Effect, given where the series goes, but in that case I really can't argue with the overall point. They're really great chapters and forced me to challenge a lot of the assumptions I had about games whose discourses I had become complacent with.
The brilliant thing about this book, though, is that Phillips anticipates and meets critique, with a conclusion that did the academic equivalent of taking my breath away. There's a tendency in academic works to make the conclusion perfunctory, but that's not this book. Phillips sums up her thesis, and projects it outwards. At the heart of her conclusion is the point that agon can be reclaimed from antagonism, so we can work through conflict, and generate trouble, in game culture. You can't eliminate conflict, but you can use it in ways that are stimulating instead of oppressive. And she does this through a really excellent Audre Lorde quotation: ""Advocating for the mere tolerance of difference between women is the grossest reformism. For difference must not be merely tolerated, but seen as a fund of necessary polarities between which our creativity can spark like a dialectic. Only then does the necessity for interdependency become unthreatening. Only within that interdependency of different strengths, acknowledged and equal, can the power to seek new ways to actively 'be' in the word generate, as well as the courage and sustenance to act where there are no charters."
And these two follow up passages explicate how this quotation applies to her overall book and theory, and games discourse in general: "debates about whether figures like Bayonetta and Chell are empowering or sexist should be carried out in the spirit of agonism, allowing the clash of conflicting but nonexclusive perspectives to generate new insights and new ways of talking about media and power, a fulfillment of Lorde's vision of feminist agonism, in which feminists meet in solidarity but without the expectation that relationships will be easy or even peaceful." "What I am doing is advocating for a reclamation of the agonistic (rather than antagonistic) spirit of the gamer, the spirit which is invigorated not by decisive victory but by struggle in the context of a fair distribution of power." It ends the book on such a powerful moment of grace. It's such a different way of looking at conflict. And as a very conflict-averse person in every day life, I found it genuinely aspirational. I was worried going into this book that it would be dated, that its cultural moment (being published in 2020) would be passed. (And to be clear, that would be my fault for not reading it sooner.) And it's the exact opposite--it reinvigorated me, inspired me, and gave me a new standard to strive for, as person who participates in game culture and as an academic.