Toby discovers that sometimes stereotypes really do exist.
By Toby McCasker on August 7, 2013 at 9:30 am
Y’know, I reckon I play a lot of shooters. Don’t ask me why I suspect this, just a strong feeling I have. I prefer to play them by myself but multiplayer, multiplayer, MULTIPLAYER encroached on my personal space so much I gave up and now I have a legitimate problem. Even so I make sure my headset’s mic is dead. I don’t really wanna talk, I just want to kill. Kill all of you. Yes. Soon.
But uh, you know that doesn’t stop other people from having their mics on and breathing heavily, or eating corn, or talking about some dumb thing, or pretending they’ve touched a boob. It’s that last one I think is funny and interesting, because, see, I did an experiment once by accident.
In an effort to bring myself and the girlf even closer together until we are like Tetsuo in Akira, I made her play Black Ops. She’s more social than me. She flicked on the mic and in between absolutely murdering the sky with whole clips of SMG fury, she said something, one single thing, into that mic. It was like, “Hi everyone.”
The stereotype was real that day, my friends. I had never see anything like it. Everyone got talking to her. Some instantly shifted into a strange anger seemingly directed at her because of her vagina, calling her all kinds of names. It was not hard to figure out why. Only men – boys, let’s say, really – who’ve experienced hot blonde rejection respond that way to the mere presence of a female.
It made me sad, because it seemed to me a self-perpetuating rage cycle and they would never know the fun of not paying for intercourse. Most dudes, though, were just excited. It was like they’d found a freaking unicorn, man. I actually think that was scarier than the straight-up torrents of abuse. It was creepy too.
Just by the sounds of their voices – both young and older, some even possibly coming up on middle age – and the tones of their messages, you could tell: These were sexless men. Not just that, but something sadder: These were lonely men. Boys and men. Boys who might grow into those kinds of men. Entire unrelated families of males with hymens. The Hy-men, I called them.
And I thought, then, of the comic book store guy in The Simpsons and how that guy is what a lot of people think a dedicated gamer is also like. For the first time ever, I saw it take living shape (just add oestrogen?). I wondered a lot and am still wondering why so many emotionally and socially underdeveloped types play all the shooters, all the games. Is it some kind of safe haven for the pre-maladjusted, and when they get there and really commit to serving this haven with high scores, does it then nurture this maladjustment in its own little bubble built by its founders, the sexless men-children of the devolution?
Without them, ‘girl gamer’ would not be a thing and I’d like that because it’s stupid. Not every gamer is like these dudes, no way. But I think this is how magnets work.