Homophobia Brought Me Here

I will never forget my first, and only, GenCon experience. After years of playing the modern 'classics' with a small group of friends, refining my Kickstarter preferences, and working through the overwhelming regret of missing out on the 50th anniversary, to simply say I was excited for GenCon 2018 would be an egregious understatement. Even the anxiety of traveling with new friends to a new city, to attended the largest board game convention in the country, was not enough the dissuade me. But despite all the incredible experiences I had during those four days, there was one, specific instance that challenged me to try my hand at game design and ultimately lead me here.

I was wandering the main hall with my best friend, demoing games, when we came across a cooperative, ninja-themed board game that peaked our interest. The woman at the booth was very friendly and walked us through a scenario where we attempted to assassinate a crime boss (you know, as ninja's do). Then at the end, I was looking through the various characters and weapons you could start with, and I noticed one card; it had a classic, chainmail bikini illustration and conditional text that read, "Can only be equipped by female characters." So I asked, "Why can this card only be equipped by certain characters?"
The very friendly woman responded, "Well, some items are just better suited for certain characters," and then went on to add, "There are also some items that can only be used by men, so it's even."

I looked over at my friend, a cishet man who silently looked back at me. He knew that 'game balance' wasn't the reason I asked the question. We returned the cards, thanked her for her time, and walked away in an awkward silence. 

Had I experienced much more direct and hurtful encounters in the past? Yes. Was the friendly woman in any way responsible for the text on those cards? Probably not. I hadn't driven nine hours one way and pay hundreds of dollars in admission and accommodations to dwell on a single microaggression, but from that point on I couldn't help but approach booths with eye of caution. I started asking myself, 'Do I see other people with 'Gaymer' badges playing the game?', 'Do they have any games that show some level of inclusion?', and probably most concerning, 'Do I feel safe wearing this 'Gaymer' badge at all?'

If you're a game designer reading this, know that words matter. Even using 'he or she' to refer to players can minimize a person's entire existence. 

In the end, my fears had almost entirely subsided and I had an absolute blast. I got to spend time with a lot of wonderful people and played a lot of incredibly fun games, but that one instance was still eating away at the back of mind. If some ignorant dude could come up with a game and print a single card that made someone like me feel scared or excluded, why couldn't I create a game filled with cards that made people feel safe? I have a BFA from one of the best art schools in the country, experience in graphic design, printing, manufacturing, marketing, and close friends who are already successful game designers. Aside from my inability to sometimes do basic math, what was stopping me? If I don't try to move the needle towards inclusion, then who will?

So I spent the nine hour car ride home designing my first game in my head, and by the time we reached the Twin Cities, I pretty much knew what I wanted to make.

I'm a filmmaker by trade, so I approached this design in the same way I would approach writing a character; lay the foundation on values and build up from there. Here's what I came up with-
• The gameplay and components should be accessible to a wide range of ages and experience levels, and should successfully accommodate up to six players.
• The art should depict people of different races, genders, body types, and physical abilities in respectful and positive ways.
• The rules and gameplay should revolve around bringing people together to achieve a common goal, and interactions or effects involving other characters should be neutral or positive.
• Artists and contributors hired to work on the game should be LGBTQIA+/BIMPOC/People with Disabilities.

Since 2018, the game has taken on a completely new form in terms of theme and mechanics, but those core values still hold true and I've used them to weigh every design choice I've made along the way.

I've learned a LOT over the past three years. As the game has developed and changed (which I fully intend to continue writing about), so has my plan for how to sell and market it. Initially, I thought Kickstarter was my best option as I wasn't sure a publisher would be interested in maintaining my design principal of inclusion. Showing a wide variety of unique characters means a premium price for unique art assets, which could make pitching an otherwise low-cost game way more of a long shot. But as I see more and more publishers taking steps to actively create safe spaces in the gaming industry, I'm starting to become more hopeful. 

My dream is to have someone like me, an unsure queer person who finally found the courage to attend the largest gaming convention in the country for the very first time, wandering the GenCon play hall and notice a rambunctious group of people gathered around a demo table, smiling and discussing a game. They walk over and see a splay of cards showing all these diverse, powerful, beautiful people gathered together in one place, working towards a common goal. Scanning the table, they see a male-presenting character wearing a classic, chainmail bikini, looking just as powerful and confident as every other character, not because they're especially muscular or athletic, but because there's not one goddamn reason they shouldn't. Then they watch someone play a card with a character that looks just like them, and say "I love they way all these people look!" And maybe, just maybe, they'll wear that 'Gaymer' badge with a little more confidence, and holding their own copy of the game will make them feel just a little bit safer. 

My goal in joining this mentorship program was to hopefully find someone who could help make that dream a reality. And you know what, I think I did! It's amazing to think that a published designer who was a complete stranger a few weeks ago is now my biggest cheerleader. It speaks volumes to the value of the program and the collaborative energy that permeates throughout the hobby. Over the next few months, I hope to document some of the progress I've made on finalizing the design and approaching potential publishers. It may very well turn out that the price of unique art leads me back to Kickstarter, but I'm excited for the possibility of finding the perfect partner to help the game reach as many people as possible.

Till then, fingers crossed!