GLR July-August 2023

ESSAY

Romancing the Avatar A SHTON C ORSETTI

T HE MAIN CATALYST for my switch from playing mostly female characters to living vic ariously through male characters must have been when I was accidentally forwarded a lesbian story arc in Dragon Age II . In the 2011 game, you play as Hawke—a human refugee who is soon caught up in the social, political, and magical struggles of the city where they now live. Most of the storyline is already predetermined for players, except that they can choose Hawke’s first name, gender, appearance, and class at the start, followed by any dialog options that appear throughout the game’s quests. Along the way, players meet non-playable characters who will join Hawke’s party, fight in battles, unlock unique dialog op tions, and weigh in on story beats. Depending on the players’ ac tions, Hawke’s companions will view them either favorably or not, which will impact the storyline and—as I would soon find out—open opportunities for monogamous romance. As a young adolescent who had not yet started to question his sexuality, I was stunned by the experience of romancing my female Hawke with a female party member. The idea of gay and lesbian people existing was no surprise to me, but the fact that I had initiated a same gender romance in a video game—despite knowing that both characters have different gender identities from my own—affected me very differently than did the passive experi ence of, say, witnessing a gay kiss on TV or film. My actions determined the course of this digital romance, a scenario that made me wonder whether those virtual actions had revealed an unknown, inchoate desire. Moments like these reveal how formative video games have been to my queer identity—albeit in ways that the developers, or I, may not have intended. After this first foray, I would still need more time to discover how playing as a male character seeking proxy same-gender relationships would feel more nat ural than playing a female in search of a man. R OMANCE O PTIONS N EEDED IN V IDEO G AMES Today, I pursue games that offer complete role-play freedom within sexually and socially diverse universes, allowing me to get lost in compelling, nonlinear storylines thanks to their strate gic designs. However, even as I play titles that are lauded for their LGBT representation, I can’t help but feel dissatisfied. For a medium that can provide freedom and relief to people on the margins, most mainstream and indie games still create experi Ashton Corsetti, a writer interested in narrative design, technical com munication, and digital rhetoric, works in business-to-business mar keting and public relations for media and IT organizations.

ences that do not feel organically queer. I believe that video games, with their capacity for nonlinear and self-directed sto ries, should be the perfect vehicle for representing a commu nity marked by subversion and liminality. This belief leads me to wonder why this inauthenticity persists, and from there, why in-game romance matters, and how video games in this genre operate. Evidence shows that even straight-identifying players some times use video games as a conceptual space in which to “try on” different gender and sexual presentations, albeit for slightly different reasons. In “Gaming on Romance,” an article by social scientist Christine Tomlinson, interviews with straight men in dicate that some will switch their character’s orientation or gen der for the sake of more in-depth gameplay. Tomlinson suggests that because men are expected to be stoic and avoid feminine presentations, they cannot openly enjoy romantic media, lead ing them to use romantic storylines in video games to overcome these restrictions. I can imagine how this ability to break from heteronormative constraints could bring relief to people who are questioning their sexuality or gender identity. found that loneliness—not low self-esteem or poor life satisfac tion per se—is significantly correlated with wanting to play ro mantic games. They also found that those who wanted to play such games hoped to develop their relationship skills. For LGBT people who are closeted or constrained by social, cultural, or po litical circumstances, the psychological pangs of loneliness are even stronger. Having romantic options in video games may pro vide these players with some emotional interaction, even if it’s with a fictional character and only for a short time. To be fair, video games do not guarantee complete self-dis covery, let alone security in coming out. But they can be a cat alyst for people who have just started some form of questioning. Moreover, as these studies have shown, having multiple options for romantic role play—from several gender and sexual per spectives—may help people of all orientations to find empathy while being critical of dominant social systems. H ETERONORMATIVE S TORY S TRUCTURES The gaming community uses the term “playersexual” to de scribe characters of any gender who have no explicit sexual ori entation but are nonetheless romanceable. In essence, all In addition to defying societal norms, peo ple may explore fictionalized romance in video games for deeply psychological rea sons. One of these is the desire to initiate real world relationships. In “What Factors Attract People to Play Romantic Video Games?” Mayu Koike et al. surveyed 281 students at a Japanese university after they watched an ad vertisement for romantic video games. They

Video games can be a catalyst for people who have just started some form of questioning, providing multiple options for romantic role play.

July–August 2023

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