Queer Quest - How Gaming Can Teach Queer Theory

By playing tabletop games you are learning the building blocks of queer
theory. Even if it’s completely unintentional. Yes, I’m here, I’m queer,
and I’m here to ruin gaming for guys on Twitter with anime avatars.

I spent way too much time trying to think of a name for this essay. Sadly, it’s hard to just call it what it is without sounding pretentious and insufferable;  me talking about queer theory in gaming. Thankfully, I am both pretentious and insufferable (but neither real nor valid) so that’s a weight off my shoulders. Though I just used the word “essay,” didn’t I? Crap. Okay, so, essays have thesis statements - if I can recall my years of phoning in English essays throughout high school.  In that case, here’s my thesis: if you pay attention to what you’re doing in gaming, you’re learning the blueprints of queer theory.

So, what does that mean? What’s queer theory? Well, I don’t know, I’m just a nerd who saw Lord of the Rings at an impressionable age and decided he wanted to make out with Gimli AND Aaragorn while looking like Galadriel during her diva monologue. Then I found Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition and grew up to be Samwise’s less sexy side-piece. Anyway, I asked my much smarter and more successful friends and had it explained to me. One of those friends explained that Queer Theory can be best summarized as exploring identities and lifestyles outside of what society deems as “normal.” Some people believe that queer is synonymous with gay, but that’s simply not true, as many queer theorists believe those who identify as asexual or polyamorous are just as part of the “queer umbrella” as gay, lesbian, and intersex people. It’s a spectrum, not a binary. Hell, let’s just ignore binaries as much as possible.

“Okay, awesome, you’re clearly gunning for those sweet sweet Pride Month clicks with this one,” the imaginary you in my head says, “but what’s this about gaming?” Well, here’s the answer: By playing tabletop games you are learning the building blocks of queer theory. Even if it’s completely unintentional. Yes, I’m here, I’m queer, and I’m here to ruin gaming for guys on Twitter with anime avatars.

To kick us off, let’s talk about playing a character that’s the opposite of your gender identity, like playing a lady Wizard when you’re a manly man who is manly.  Plenty of people have done it throughout the years, and there’s nothing weird or strange about that, right? Well, many queer theorists subscribe to what is known as The Theory of Gender Performativity. Basically, gender - what we subscribe to as “man” or “woman” or “neither” - isn’t what’s between our legs or some sort of mythical mumbo-jumbo, it’s simply what we perform! It’s what we do, it’s our vibe. This also adds some really fun ideas for you to play within your games. Like, if you’re playing a Dragon, what do dragons consider “man” or “woman?” Do they even care? What about species that can change appearance or identity at will? Thinking about this stuff is one of the building blocks of queer theory and you can do that without it ever feeling invasive because, buddy, you’re already doing it. Hell, every time a GM makes an NPC of a different gender and gives them a voice they’re getting their gender performativity on!

Okay, here’s another RPG staple, the one I like to call I’m Not Like Other X-Men: You’re a Bugbear who is adept at Magic and has set off on a quest to prove that your magical, long-armed powers are to be celebrated, not feared. So the GM makes an NPC, the chieftain of your Bugbear tribe who has a biiiig problem with one of his members using magic. Not exactly groundbreaking plot-wise, is it? Well, no, that’s pretty much the plot to most Disney movies, and that’s not a bad thing; That’s Liberation Vs. Assimilation, which is another key tenant of queer theory! The idea is that you want to celebrate the things that make us unique and you have people - who don’t know you, generally - who want you to be like everyone else. The liberation part is taking things that society tells you to be ashamed of - your gender, your sexuality, what makes you happy - and deciding “nah, I’m gonna do me.” This is literally the plot of like 95% of World of Darkness games, by the by.

So at this point, it’s all rather surface-level stuff, right? Cute allegories and things of that nature, which are great and should be celebrated. Now, however, we go to the heavy stuff, and one that I know you - yes, you, dear reader - have addressed in a tabletop game: Forbidden Knowledge. In most tabletop games, there are classes devoted to the idea of learning things you’re “not supposed to know.” The Warlock in D&D or the Witch in Pathfinder, for example, are classes devoted to knowing things that “good people” don’t. Why is this queer? Well, in polite society, the one that assumes everyone is straight and cis, queerness and the knowledge of it is kind of forbidden fruit. Only weird, strange people delve into or dare speak about things like this. Hell, if I really wanted to get people on Twitter to hate me I could argue that Call of Cthulhu is the most anti-queer game in the world as learning things comes with a punishment mechanically. This is a huge part of Queer Theory: Asking questions about why this knowledge is off-limits, why you can’t just tell a young Sorcerer “yeah, this is what this thing is, and this is what we know about it” in the Forgotten Realm. That is, in essence, what Queer Theory and what Gaming is: Asking questions and having fun finding the answers.

Okay, so let’s end this one with something more fun, because we all hate essays that end with something heavy, right? Let’s talk about something that’s pretty much text to the queer community: the found family. Being queer can be lonely and isolating. You grow up being called names and knowing that society finds you… Unappealing, at the best of times. So, you find people who like you. You find new parents and brothers and sisters in people who are not like you, but love you. This is pretty much what you do at most tables - Your Half Orc Barbarian would, and will, take an arrow for the Gnome Artificer, because that’s what you do for your Party. Your Party, in most games, is your character’s surrogate family. From the House system of the Harlem Balls to the Drag Houses that continue to this day, a major part of being queer is finding a new family that you’d take the arrow for. That’s lovely. That’s Pride.

Special thanks to A Critical Introduction to Queer Theory by Nikki Sulivan and Philosophy Tube’s video on Queer Theory. Let us know in the comments what you think you can learn and teach from gaming, and make sure to check out our Pride podcasts where we played Glitter Hearts!