I’m starting off my games blog diving head first into a big question: what is the responsibility of the author in combating the deeply ingrained biases and stereotypes in their audience? I don’t plan on coming anywhere close to answering it in this first post, but it’s a theme I plan on repeatedly returning to and want to lay some of the groundwork for my fascination with this question here.
“Imaginations fill in the gaps”
In the second week of the ETC’s Game Design course we discussed consciousness, the nature of experience, and the role of the game designer in crafting experiences. Jesse said that imaginations “fill in the gaps” of stories. This is a positive twist on another question that has plagued my thoughts for a long time. How can authors combat imaginations that will only ever fill in the gaps with straight, white, abled, and otherwise privileged representations? When, and how, and how much, and must they do this? I think they clearly must, but that first requires the desire to represent diverse groups as well as the acknowledgement of the author’s own biases.
I want to acknowledge my own identity and biases. As a young, able-bodied, Asian American, female PhD student there are several axis through which I experience marginalization but very many in which I experience a great amount of privilege. Understanding marginalization and using the resources I have to empower marginalized groups is deeply important to me, but this work requires me to grapple with my own privilege and limitations on a daily basis. Answering this question is as much to help my self as an author and game designer as it is to help myself as a consumer.
In Jesse’s anecdote he very briefly describes going to the store yesterday and meeting a female cashier. He then proceeded to ask questions to the class about the woman’s age, what time of day it was, etc. And many people in the class confidently answered! Their imaginations filled in the gaps. My focus is on instances where that filling in goes awry and becomes problematic and even dangerous.
In several highly public instances in the recent past we see how the (perceived) ambiguity of book characters lead many readers to the majority default (See Anna Holmes’ “White Until Proven Black“). When Jesse would correct people, he pointed out how easily their minds adapted to the new information and moved on. But in some of these public cases (e.g., Black actresses cast in the Harry Potter and Hunger Games franchises) where people feel they have a stake in “the truth”, rather than responding with acceptance, some of these more vocal ‘fans’ aggressively defended their stance that their beloved characters were white and that it would “ruin” the movie/play/show to represent them otherwise. When authors or “experience designers” aren’t explicit in their intent, we lose out on diversity.
I think games have the power to play with this desire to fill in the gaps in a powerful and interesting way. The mobile game Lifeline asks players to converse with an astronaut named Taylor via text. When pressed to give a definitive answer on Taylor’s gender, the creators respond that that is up to the audience.
I recently wrote an academic paper on character diversity in games (in press at ToDiGRA) and how games can and do successfully represent diverse players. One of my goals moving forward is to collect more examples of how games succeed or fail at scaffolding the audience’s imagination and the conversations designers have once their games are released into the world.