
In my Freelance Magazine class, it was announced we would be assigned an article to research, write, polish and ultimately try to publish through the course of this semester. This would obviously have been last week's class, since tonight's class was not attended by yours truly as a result of one-too-many Margaritas with the author's boss at Happy Hour Lunch Specials off of Industrial and 18th, which resulted in a long, uninterrupted nap. Apparently, turning a phone's ringer to the "vibrate" setting will also keep the alarm from doing anything but vibrating. Hey, who knew?
But, I digress.
It didn't take me long to figure out the article that I wanted to write would focus on two things very near to my heart: gaming, and Feminism.
But wait! Stop the presses! Feminism--like girls? And
gaming?Oh yes, I went there. Growing up in a family of boys and an uninvolved mother, I realized pretty quickly that video games represented not only a bridge to spend time with my family, they represented an outing for stress and the ability to help me improve my motor skills, which weren't that great to begin with. I liked being able to kick my father's ass at "Super Mario Bros. 3" and systematically destroy Freddy Krueger in "A Nightmare on Elm Street." To this day, I'm likely to depend on my original Nintendo for stress relief and validation of living in a big creaky house with no one else around.
Over time, the only other system I really fell in love with was the N64. It offered "GoldenEye," "Yoshi's Story," "Banjo and Kazooie," "MarioKart" and a whole host of games I never was allowed to play because they "weren't for girls." One game, the name of which escaped me, involved channeling the spirit of Jack the Ripper, which I found intriguing. There were so many I never got to play but wanted to, and it was the first time I became aware of my sex as a limiting factor from something I enjoyed.
During this time, my Feminist consciousness was emerging. I understood that in the workplace, I was more likely to make less money than my counterpart with the exact same credentials, experience and education for no other reason than a different chromosome. I knew that the female athletes at my school weren't taken seriously by the administration or the other athletes. I had no interest in children or marriage, and spent most of my time reading books by Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem and Naomi Wolf. Yet watching my brothers and their friends have massive gaming parties while I stayed down the hall with my latest "Sassy" magazine (not to be confused with fluffy glossy titles like "YM," "CosmoGIRL" and "Seventeen") I couldn't help but wonder why I seemed to be poised between one or the other. Why couldn't I be a girl, specifically a girl who embraced Feminism,
and a gamer?
When I received my first computer, I was able to begin bridging the two with "StarCraft," a military science fiction real-time strategy video game developed by Blizzard Entertainment. I was about 14 and instantly hooked. I had played the predecessor to "StarCraft," but it was a different experience. "StarCraft" boasted Sarah Kerrigan, a trained psychic assassin and second-in-command for renegade upstart Arcturus Mengsk. Kerrigan was beautiful, but dangerous; compassionate, but deadly. She was everything that my Feminism manuals had been screaming at me to become. She didn't need a man, and even her captors became afraid of her. By the end of the game, Kerrigan had become the Queen of Blades, able to kick the ass of any man, woman or spawn that attempted to cross her.
I'm not alone in my love for Kerrigan. Arguably, she had something to do with why "StarCraft" was voted time and again the best game the year it came out, and why Kerrigan has become a model for other female character development. It isn't merely that she became a villain (although GameSpot currently pegs her as the second greatest villain in modern gaming) or the fact that she tangles with characters the way a seasoned cowboy wrangles a bucking horse. In a nutshell, Blizzard and in particular Kerrigan creators Chris Metzen and James Phinney created a gold mine and history by making Kerrigan human.
Granted, a very flawed human. She's both a sinner and a saint, and she makes no apologies for either. She's cunning, brutal and in a way that might be frightening given the number of insect-like blades protruding from her back, alluring. Unlike the video game heroines of the past like Princess Peach, Kerrigan oozes a sexuality that goes beyond posing as a damsel in distress. She's a femme fatale who is just as likely to behead her lover as bed him, and she's more concerned about furthering her agenda than courting fan favoritism. In some ways, she's every woman who ever donned a power suit during the Reagan Years without any of the fragile hypocrisy. Her power remains strong, over a decade later. Just last year, writer Rob Wright for Tom's Games praised Kerrigan as one of the best female characters of all time, an honor for which Kerrigan has seemingly set the bar.
True, video games often seem to exploit women. Young, dangerously thin women are often seen parading in nothing but bondage bikinis waiting for some modern incantation of a knight to save them. Plots can lose themselves in sexual story lines that bring nothing to the overall game play or character journey. However, critics of video games fail to realize that these are the new mediums through which we must express ourselves, our ideas, our collective wish for change. To improve a system and remove the failings or shortcomings, we must work within it to accomplish the vision for the future. WomenGamersOnline.com, for example, heralds Kerrigan as a breaker of the stereotypes, noting that although Kerrigan could be chalked up to the "bad girl" mold, she also has a considerable depth and complexity in her backstory that makes it impossible to dismiss her. Rather than get hung up on the aspects that could break her as a candidate for Feminism on screen, they embrace her for the greater change she's likely to usher in. Women fighting women, though stereotypically appealing for men, can be a deal breaker for other women. When Lara Croft was bemoaned for her exaggerated features, the backlash not only kept women from playing "Tomb Raider" but from gaming completely. Older and wiser now, women on the inside are less likely to throw stones from inside their glass houses, mostly because the video game industry can't really afford any additional acrimony.
And it seems other sources are getting the message. Last February, Matt West reported on CNN that women now constitute 38 percent of gaming, and an even higher number are expected to continue assuming executive roles at gaming companies in the next few years. Currently, just 12 percent of people in the gaming industry are women, but several initiatives such as Gaming In Real Life (G.I.R.L.) is focusing on harnessing in more women to change the face of the industry. At present, most of the women tend to be involved on the art side of things, but women such as Torrie Dorrell, senior vice-president of global sales and marketing for Sony Online Entertainment, want to push for a more executive role for women in the industry.
Yet on the art side of things, it appears the industry is finally learning from Kerrigan. Though attractive as a human, Kerrigan featured none of the exaggerated details of other famous gaming poster girls. Sherry Floyd, a game designer with SOE's Seattle studio, praised the character design of first-person shooter and espionage thriller "The Agency." Cassie is aesthetically pleasing but not an amalgamation of the current appreciated female stereotypes, which has traditionally been viewed as a turn-off by wary females straddling the fence of whether to game.
When I began asking the Feminism questions a decade ago, women gamers were barely a blip on the radar. We remain a small minority, perhaps through dogged determination if nothing else. Like the women who first pioneered magazines that went above recipe exchanges, we've come to recognize that video games are the new medium of expression and liberation. Women shouldn't be gaming more just because it is actually fun to do so, but because video games represent the last barrier to total equality between the sexes.