Tuesday started off pretty normally. I made it downstairs in time to say goodbye to the kids before they got on the bus, start the coffee, and put my lunch together. I chatted with my wife, got in my car, and drove off. Somewhere along the line I checked my twitter feed, and that’s when the insanity began.
A PR firm representing a game developer announced a special edition of their game, called the “zombie bait” edition. Considering the product is named Dead Island: Riptide, a gory theme was almost expected. The central pillar of this collection of bonus items, the piece that dominated the packaging and advertising was the likeness of a human torso, missing it’s arms, legs, and head. It had scratches, gaping wounds, and exposed bone. It was, an absolute ruin of a woman. The only thing left almost unscathed were her bikini clad breasts, scantily covered in a British flag motif. This was the “zombie bait” the package was named after.
People were appalled. Some made impassioned arguments about how something like this should never happen. Others speculated that this was nothing more than a radical and tasteless PR stunt. Some were offended. Some were seriously emotionally affected, and others asked “What’s the big deal?”
Allow me to attempt to explain what I believe "the big deal" is.
I’m no woman. The closest I can truly come to understanding them comes from my deep bond with my wife. I am a gamer though, and a parent of two kids who love video games as much as I do. My wife, despite refusing to bear the moniker, has invested over four hundred and thirty hours into Dragon Quest IX, and is currently playing New Super Mario Brothers 2 and Paper Mario: Sticker star. She sat riveted to the couch watching me play Bioshock. Talks to me about what makes Dishonored the most addicting thing I’ve played in years, and is constantly asking me which games she should buy next.
But she’s not a gamer, or at least, she won’t tell you she is.
To her, being a gamer means more than just the fact that she plays games. It means identifying with a culture, a group of people who behave a certain way, do certain things, and are entertained by certain amusements, amusements like this thing Deep Silver though was so brilliant, that they just had to put it out there. An object that in one fell swoop encapsulates everything she hates about gamers. It portrays an obsession with sexuality, a fascination with blood and gore, and a culture that’s emotionally stunted. It’s mean. It’s rude. It’s thoughtless, and some have even speculated hateful.
Then there’s my children. No, I wouldn't let them near Dead Island, or any other M rated game, but they will likely talk to the very same people who are speaking out in defense of this thing, or at the very least, they will run into people that share their mindset. I certainly don’t want them to think that stuff like this is cool, or that it’s OK to portray women in this way. I hate that I can’t let them go online for fear of what they’ll learn or hear people say over Xbox Live Voice Chat. I hate that they will be expected, as males, to be misogynistic and homophobic when communicating online, and I really hate that nobody seems to be doing anything truly meaningful to stop it.
So, in the end, is it really about a resin sculpture depicting a woman reduced to her sexual organs? No, it’s really not. It is, in fact, not about the sculpture at all, it’s about everything it represents, and the fact that we, as a gamer culture, are accepting, tolerant, and even encouraging of such complete and utter nonsense.
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