Toxic Masculinity in Gaming

Toxic Masculinity in Gaming

The trouble with Games Workshop.

When I first got into GW I was the "girlfriend" of a gamer. As a fantasy and sci-fi buff well before I met him as well as an art student I was over whelmed with this world of amazing stories and cool games. However to be part of this world it became apparent early on that "girlie" girls were not welcome. In fact you could only participate at all if you were the silent snack bringer (hello, not something I was ever going to be) or if you became "one of the boys". You were subject to stares, hostility, "banter" (verbal abuse dressed as jokes) but once they find out your "one of the boys", you're be fine ish.
I lost all my armies to my ex about 16 years ago, I never really had the money or time to go back.
Since then I have seen something, looked at GW through a different light and while there are some staff members who are wonderful, there is something very, very wrong with GW.
Child as young as eight are often left in GW on weekends and holidays to play. The first army they are exposed to, and the first game is usually 40K. All hail the Emperor?
Women are either sexualized demons (literally) or virgin nuns with guns, or just not there at all.
Male is perfect and order, and strength and female is not.
The mind is superior, emotion is weakness.
The odd female might be here or there but gender neutral is as close to "female" as it gets.
This fuels this toxic environment of "boys club" to an extreme. Boys (and girls) who are too young to distinguish between the ideals of a fictional place and reality are exposed to some pretty horrific ideas about what is "male" and "good". In the desire to create brand loyalty they create a geek/nerd cult and it's values are extremely ugly. This mentality persists all the way back to head office (the Vatican of GW).
The "boys club" is cruel to those they feel do not measure up, who fail their targets or just are not "right" and work place bullying is extremely common (not that anyone can complain) but I have known several people who have or work there (all men) who get paid much less than they are worth (often if plastic) to suffer abuse all day long (but, you know, it's banter).
My issues is that it's a games company, you know, fun, games? Play?
Children, especially boys who might not fit into societies cultural norms of "maleness" are often drawn to GW and instead of finding and antidote to toxic masculinity they are given a different brand. This mentality affects the geek/nerd community as a whole because is usually the first place they go. If misogyny, gynophobia and ever narrowing parameters for masculinity are where you join your community it colours everything that comes after.
This means it "weeds out" girls that won't be "one of the boys" and leads young men to grow up thinking this kind of culture is "theirs" and worth rape and death threats to anyone who wants to change it.
There are so many female and gender non-binary people who miss out (and GW loses there money) because of this culture in and around their games and stores.
Girls don't need pink armies, (unless they want one) but they deserve equal representation in a multiverse of games and stories. Ones where they are not hypersexualized devouring beasts or virgins  serving "The One". Female space marines could be an actual thing, no special armour (it doesn't need boobs). An interesting story, a new codex, something. (Sister's of Battle are not in power armour, they are the Faith Militant of the Imperial Guard, they are not the same).

The problem is they don't think there is a problem. If you are not "brand loyal" you can't work for GW, so no-one from outside can voice the "hello, 21st century calling" because it has been bullied out of them since they started playing! It's such a shame because it does teach maths, encourage reading, and gets shy kids to talk to one another, if only they could make equal space at the table for the other half of the human population. Certain nerdy companies are thriving right now and they don't have a cult-like might set to do it. I can not sing the praises of Hasbro/Wizards of the Coast for the cool stuff they are doing right now. They too started with women being more objects than person, but they changed, grew and grew up making D&D inclusive and fun for girls, boys and gnomish bards.

The Joy's of 37

So I don't really know what happened.
I feel like I had one of those coughing fits where you have to try really hard not to pee, and BAM!
I went from 27 to 37.
All kinds of shit happened I wasn't prepared for. For the most part I was cool with, except for ass hair.
I am not a particularly hairy person, so I got kind of lazy with it until I walk by a mirror naked and think I have a hipster comic coffee nerd staring back at me from there.
I'm sorry. What?
No one told me, "Hey, it's tough being a woman but one day your ass will be a man."
It is hard though.
When I was younger all I wanted was people to listen to my ideas and stop objectifying me. Now if someone notices me enough to objectify me I am having a good tits day.
You know. I good tits day?
When your one decent bra is on and not trying to murder you like your a vampire from Buffy and it seems like those perky little twins that got you served alcohol really quickly are kind of bloated from retaining water to fill the sad gap.
You know how after babies your boobs change from oranges to pears, well that leaves a sad gap.
I have been married a long time.
I has it's benefits.
The socks, OMG the socks, are really, really good.
Men's socks are like feet hugs and moss that has been watered the the tears of virgin wood nymphs.
Women's socks are thin. You can still feel every bump in the pavement like you are reading foot Braille or something. Thinner than make-up counter smiles.
I had dreams.
Some of which came true.
But I have really fucked up dreams.
Being 37 and married and a Mum and I feel like I am supposed to be contented or some shit and I am just pissed off. Although I could just be hangry.
I spent so much of my life waiting. Waiting for other people, waiting for my time, waiting to be heard, and it was all a fucking con.
It was all this society joke. If you do all of these thing, THEN we will take you seriously.
I am a nerd, and also a spiritual person and both groups don't get the other group importance to my life. I am down with it.
I just have a bonus on religion checks as I am levelling a triple class character druid/bard/barbarian.
Or as my daughter calls it Bardbarian druish.
Having a +2 handle animal helps with being in comic and geek store.
Guys, what is that smell?
It's like a horde of billy goats who rolled in tiger shit ran through the shop, a week ago. I know my breast clearly stop my brain from working but it doesn't effect my nose!

Explain RPG to Home Ed groups

So what do we crazy girls and boys get up to?

For those who asked. I run a gaming group with my daughter 14 (going on 45) and husband (42 going on 12). We are call Home Ed Heroics and right now I am running a Pathfinder campaign. This is like the best version of Dungeons and Dragons that was (3.5) although having played the brand new D&D 5 I can say it is much improved from the dreaded 4th edition! We game once a week and even though I have the table all day I only use about three and a half hours (on average).

So I am the Dungeon Mater (DM) also know as the ST or Story Teller. I created a story (though there are loads of prefabricated adventures you can run). I create the towns and villages, cities and people. I come out with the monsters and people they will need to encounter. I do the voices and the sound effects of the landscape.

The players make their characters around this landscape. They can be human, or an elf, or a gnome or halfling (hobbit). They could be a half-orc or half-elf. They choose. Then they choose what they do. Are they a wizard? A warrior? A thief? A bard? Then they roll some dice. This gives them the basic stats of how clever, strong, quick and so on, they are.

I take this characters and place them into my world. I describe it and then ask

"So what are you going to do?"

The halfling wizard might decide he want to make breakfast, the half-orc might decide to sharpen her blade. The Elven princess might do her Druidic meditations. The elven cleric might just keep snoring.

Suddenly giant rats appear. (everyone roll a 20 sided dice and add your initiative, how quick you are at reacting).

I roll for the rats (there are three of them).

The players tell me their total (what they rolled plus their modifier).

We are now in combat rounds.

The lower the number the lower down the order the character goes. During combat you get to do a move and a action (unless you can do more).

It is a vicious fight. The rats roll well and pounce on the sleeping cleric but roll low on their damage. The half-orc rages (a special ability) and charges the nearest rat swinging wildly and almost hitting the halfing.

He makes his dodge roll. The wizard sends a sphere of flame at the rats crisping them but not killing them. The druid summons a bear that fights for her and it mauls one of the rats (it dies).

The now awake cleric succeeds his poison roll and doesn't get plague.

The fight continues until all the beasts are dead. Combat rounds end.

The story continues.

Each encounter has experience points that get added to each character. As it increases they go up levels that allow them to do more, know more and be big shiny heroes.

D&D Luvina Yaira Olinda Martel

The Sea Dogs Story.

They used to say I was born at sea. Some said it was during calm, some a storm. Sailors are like that, pirates even more. My father, Captain Phillip Vincent Martel would roll his eyes and bark orders. I knew every inch of that beautiful ship. The Sea's Revenge.
Sometimes I fear I will never avenge them. My brothers, my family. My father. Hung by kings-men. So noble. With their laws that never apply to them.
About a year ago I heard his name. King _______. I had worked with smugglers and thieves of the highest quality before that.I drifted from place to place. Port to port. I had few to vouch for me, after all dead men tell no tales but I had my name and most often it was enough for small jobs.
Once that puked-stained sop's name caught my attention I knew I couldn't rest until I found him and ripped out his guts.
I started investigating as best as I could between jobs.
I got my first break about six months ago. His kingdom and the such like. I was working security for a large brothel in the large port town of _______.
You ever want information, speak to a whore. They know more secrets than almost anyone. The House of Flowers was a good gig and I was loathed to leave but revenge is something they understood and know well.
I know I am bias but is a shit stain of a kingdom. Poor weather. High taxes on all goods like pipe-weed and alcohol. Even flour was twice the price of the nearest kingdom. The king was having a series of lavish balls to impress visiting nobility. I spit on the word.
His people could barely eat. I fell in with a small band of smugglers. The Oystermen. My blade and such I soon found rabble rousing easy. After all, a hungry man is an angry man.
Of course this makes you enemies as well as friends.
I knew something was off when I was asked to protect a land-based run. Still I did the job. Coin is coin.
The run was quiet. Not that horse and carts are my thing. Never seem to get the stink off. All day the horses refused to settle. Making that high unpleasant horse they make sometimes. By night fall we had made a small camp and I was by the fire sleeping before my watch.
The sound of a blade woke me. We were over run. I kicked one of them into the fire and lashed out with my blade. I felt a sharp pain and woke in a cave in chains.

D&D Dark Places

D&D Dark Places

Time passes differently in the underdark. The drug from the capture made me foggy. The cell was a  small cave with a large metal gate. Opposite it was some strange drow tower with guards and a huge mounted crossbow trained on it at all times.
There were so many strange creatures I had never seen before, and some I recognised such as the loud elf and a quiet one and a courageous and very angry halfling. There was a female dwarf as well as a princesses who was a strange hairy beast who did not stop crying.
They had taken my clothes and other belonging, save my Goddess symbol as they could not bear to touch it.
As the gates opened and another body was tossed into our cell the halfling, Jock began to abuse the drow the other side of the gate. He did some curious magick on Jock's underwear causing it to glow and twinkle, enraging him even more.
The man thrown in seemed to wake me to myself and I knew in my bones I would escape. The flamboyant elf proclaimed he would escape and I believed he could.
Two large hairy beasts patrolled outside our cell and I saw a way to distract the guards. I began to pray to reach towards that light within and draw forth that magick. I reached out to one of the beasts and gave it a single command.
"Attack" as I pointed to the drow stationed at the crossbow. The other elf, a wizard followed my lead and commanded the second creature to do the same. Defopp, began to pick the lock and suddenly we were free. The dwarf was off and running, then Jock, then the Bowman and myself, then wizard and the princess. We managed to grab some simple weapons and some of the sleep drug they tip their weapons in.
I don't think I yet fully understand what happened next. Jock burst into a room of sleeping and resting guards. Vicious fighting broke out. I saw the still sleeping guard and I struck him with my make shift staff while apologising. I sent a healing word to Jock who was in danger of losing an eye. I went further into the room and drew the distraught princess with me. I regained my things from a chest at the back of the room and I put up a shield of faith to protect myself and this sad creature. There I stayed for a while with the noise of more guards and fighting.
I then saw the female dwarf standing badly wounded and I knew that I had to help. I dropped the shield and made my way to the dwarf who refused my healing and I saw such a sight. Jock who had been riding a giant spider fell and many drow were attempting to enter the room.
I raised my staff above my head and touch my holy symbol. I radiated pure celestial light. It seemed to burn them. One of the drow turned to ash. All the other's were blinded and in pain.
The great beasts under my command and that of the wizard were still attacking drow.
The last drow fled. Leaving us again in silence.
I know not what will happen next.

D&D Quora

I am joining not one but two new D&D fifth edition games in the next week. I will try and chronicle both characters who are unusually both human. Quora is my human heal and cleric made predominantly with dice rolls! This is her brief back story.

Quora

My name is Quora, or at least that is the only name I ever remember having. I do not recall the massacre that killed my parents only the well I hid in. The small circle of sky and the cold hard walls around me. I remember the light and being drawn like water from the well. I remember running and pulling on the hand of my mother who did not move. Such strong hands.

It was there Llion found me. His bright priestly robes fluttering in the wind. His pale elven face seemed alien and celestial to my childish eyes. He took me to his temple, to our temple and so I became Quora.

The dust of desert and war was washed from my obsidian skin.

Our Goddess Lliira dances in the heart of all children and even though I had lost much I learned the dance. I learned to find my healing joy. Llion taught me how to smile in a way that makes other's smile too. How to find that dancing light inside and allow it to radiate. Of course I learned to read and write too, but it was in our swaying morning prayer, in our voices, I found my calling.

I grew and grew taller than even Llion. Yet Llion told me it was so everyone could see my smile.

The day I became a full acolyte will stay with me forever. I lead the dance and as I touch her sacred drum there was a shudder of light throughout the room and a soft tinkling laughter.

I was so up lifted by my own joy I did not see those who believe politics, not faith, is true power, exchange scornful glances.

As is our custom I began to go out into the world to give aid and healing. To dance at births and weddings. To sing the joy of a life lived at funerals. My journey’s took me further and further from home. I know my calling is to bring joy and light to the world. To show that bitterness is no shield. That kindness is strength. That hope can survive all things if we look for our joy.  

Strength 15
Dexterity 16
Constitution 15
Intelligence 12
Wisdom 19
Charisma 12

Reading: The Power of Stories

Reading: 

The Power of Stories

While reading is much more cool these days than when I was young, we do have to remember reading is something that only the few had access to for most of human history.

I don't begrudge readings coolness. I appreciate how older prints and different editions are now easier for me to find. (Though I have this skill of being able to find books that are rare and expensive for piss all in flea markets or charity shops.)

My mother was a big read but didn't read to me. My father (before I was five) would not only read but do all the voices and perform the stories. After the divorce he would record stories onto tape, even adding a noise to tell me when we could turn the page.

Little wonder reading became so important to me. Reading was so pleasurable, much like dancing, I didn't feel it was an effort at all. I now know how much harder I have to work as a dyslexic person to get the words into my brain. I don't belittle or get snobbish about audio books either.

Interestingly reading to children (I mean who wouldn't like bedtime stories?) is not just wonderfully bonding, great for getting kids calm and happy, it actually changes their brains!

This has throws up so many ideas in my brain.

You see psychologically, we are create narratives constantly and when they don't mesh with the outside would it can cause break-downs and all kinds of mental health problem. This cognitive dissonance comes down to how we tell ourself our story.

This power of stories is both a curse and a boon.

There is a large bang. You go to the window and it is dark. Now quiet, everything appears normal.

"Probably just a car backfiring". 

Our past and our frames of reference inform us, and blind us to the world around us.

There is a large bang. You go to the window and it is dark. Now quiet, everything appears normal.

"Come away from the window, someone was shot."

Most people are not aware of this narrative thinking. This is why reading, and reading widely is important.

It allows you to freedom from the idea there is one narrative thread. That there is one set way to view the world. In evolutionary terns it makes us more adaptable to change. More resilient to the psychological stresses. Growing up I read all kinds of books sometimes several at a time. Most of the protagonists were male but instead of this isolating me it just enabled me to walk into worlds, stories where I was treated with all the male privilege. I was never the damsel in the story, I was the hero. Doing the daring do. To me it was quite profound in setting how I thought of myself.

This is why "Chic Lit" is just the dumbest idea from publishers and a trend I abhor.

The formula seem to be this

female writer+ female protagonist+human connection = Chic Lit 

So many amazing books, and wonderful stories are lumped into a grouping that stops men from hearing these voices. Voices that can be beautiful and powerful and really deserve to be read.

Reading should not be gendered.

Reading what it is like to grow up female should be compulsory.

Everyone should read The Color Purple.

Everyone should read Tolkien, even if it is the Hobbit to your children.

Stories are hugely powerful. Inhabiting worlds can show you what racism, sexism and being a villain or hero is like. This dreaming while awake is good for the mind and in my opinion, good for the soul.

This why "just watch the movie" is so wrong. It is much more personal. So much more visceral when you are not passively absorbing something but creating it within your mind. 

This changes how you emotionally connect with the content and you get to choose the voices, the soundtrack. You get to know how things smell, and taste and feel. What people are thinking as well as doing.

 So much of our lives is based on stories, narratives. When we are able to hear other people's voices, spend some time in their shoes we are empowered. In reading with others, in sharing stories with our children and friends we share this tool. This gift. We are always more able to control our narrative thinking (if you don't believe me watch a group of roleplayers the week after their first mimic).

It allows us to be our own hero's. Know that we can survive anything, from the end of the world to war, to lost love.