essay by: Korin Hunjak

When we talk about self-discovery and figuring out who we truly are, we usually don’t mean doing it through the “cheap” and “populist” medium of video games, do we? After all, what kind of grand revelations could there possibly be waiting for us at the end of something like a game of FIFA or a match of Call of Duty? But if we ignore the gatekeepers who would like nothing more than to put video games back into the realm of trite entertainment and cheap thrills, we will find there is a whole wellspring of identity exploration hidden in plain sight of countless video games. This aspect of theirs often allows us to shape our own in-game adventure to align with our wishes and desires, and mold our characters, storylines, pasts, futures, and abilities into exactly what we would like to experience. The various possibilities on offer are further expanded when we take into account the many changes we can apply to the characters we play as. In a way, we go through these modifications ourselves—being emotionally invested in the stories presented to us.

For as long as I can remember, these types of video games, where the player can roleplay as one of the characters in the game or even create their own character from scratch according to their preferences, have been a refuge for exploring my own relationship to gender, its expression, sexuality, and morality. In a virtual world where you can be anything you like, the playground for experimentation is as good as perfect. Not sure what kind of person you really are deep down? Why don’t you try to do an “evil” run in a game like Undertale, and see how far you can get without getting queasy and reloading an earlier save-game to avoid a horrible outcome? Or, to get really practical—are you afraid of trying out a new haircut, ping-ponging between various options, terrified of making an irreversible mistake? Well, why don’t you fire up the Elden Ring character creator, make a clone of yourself, and try out the most interesting options, figuring out if this is really the style that’ll fit your physical self-perception?These are merely two of many ways we can use video games to figure out who we really are or what we truly want, and the spectrum can go from really silly, all the way to really serious, and sometimes even life-changing, depending on the game and its impact on us. 

Lately, I’ve been set on exploring different types of gender expression through huge, sprawling, roleplaying games, such as Baldur’s Gate 3, the similarly massive Dragon Age: The Veilguard and Cyberpunk 2077. Notably, Baldur’s Gate 3 was the first game I ever encountered that allowed the player character to have gender-neutral pronouns. To be more precise, other characters in the game can refer to the character with they/them pronouns, if that option was chosen in the character creation menu. To say the least, this blew the roof off of my gender euphoria, and I giddily pranced through the storyline, getting a warm, tingly feeling anytime someone in-game used the pronouns I preferred in my real life, too. Living in a country whose language doesn’t really allow for easy use of gender-neutral pronouns simply due to the gendered nature of its grammar, and finally being able to freely, and without judgment, use the pronouns that I wanted, made me realize precisely how much something like that meant to me. It only affirmed my feelings about being nonbinary, and brushed aside any doubts I had about how to define myself.

But what about the body, and the ways the player can alter the main character? Can’t video games also be a polygon to try out what kind of figure you would feel most comfortable in? Enter Dragon Age: The Veilguard, a game much like Baldur’s Gate 3, where you can also change the pronouns of your character, and even add top surgery scars to your character, among other things. It also comes very close to being able to create a clearly androgynous body. For someone who is at times struggling with gender dysphoria, it was a revelation for my character to be able to have something quite near to my ideal imagined body, including all the ways I have considered altering it. The character creation screen offers a positively refreshing variety of voice options for the character as well, the most I’ve ever seen in a game so far. Not to mention Dragon Age: The Veilguard was also the first game I encountered that acknowledged the fact that the main character could be nonbinary or trans in the game at all (other than the pronouns!), mainly through some specific interactions with your in-game companions.

At this point I have to be completely honest and add a disclaimer to say that I don’t believe that this was always handled in the best possible way, like in the apocalyptically cringe-inducing “pulling a Bharv” scene during one of the side quests. But at other times, it was handled with care and nuance. For example, when one of your companions becomes romantically interested in your character, if you choose to disclose that the character is nonbinary or trans, saying: “(…) most accepted me, but not everyone,” the companion then replies: “They are fools. (…) I believe there’s nothing so attractive as someone who’s found themselves.” It’s hard to describe just how much I needed to hear those words in that moment in my life, disregarding the fact that they were really aimed at my character. Sometimes, the line between the player and the character is so thin, it’s easy to treat these games as a kind of parallel life, where we behave the way we want to, without outside influences interfering with it. 

As a side note, there is something these two games do exceptionally well, other than the inclusion of non-binary and trans options in their respective character creation menus. In both, you can romance a whole host of different companions, as the games don’t set a restriction on the player character’s sexual orientation. What that amounts to, in practical terms, is that no matter how you choose to present your character, they will be able to pursue romantic relationships with any companion you like (given that the companion’s approval rating of your in-game actions is high enough, of course). This serves as a safe space to explore the player’s sexuality, and to “try out” different personalities, genders, and appearances of the companions, that the player might not be able to pursue in real life, for whatever reason. Sometimes it even breaks our preconceived notions of what we find attractive or not, and allows us to explore our romantic tastes outside of our perceived comfort zones.

Finally, there is Cyberpunk 2077 as an honorary mention in the arena of huge narratives—a supremely immersive video game which allows the player (among many, many other things) to try out at times outrageously hilarious fashion combinations, but at other times some iconic gender-bendy looks and androgynous appearances—albeit the game, sadly, doesn’t allow for gender-neutral pronouns or identities (nobody’s perfect). But despite that, through the genuinely vast number of slightly futuristic, yet still contemporary wardrobe options, the player can, in detail, explore exactly what perfect gender presentation means for them.

And this is all taken even further into full-blown trans-humanism, when we take into account the countless number of various community-made mods for the game, adding a vast array of new hairstyles, apparel, different body types, tattoos, cyberware modifications, and more, truly accounting for a wide range of specific player preferences. To top it all off, the vanilla game even provides an outfit system, which allows the player to assign up to six “looks” to the character, which can be changed independently of stat-providing equipment, and which I’ve liberally used to nail specific appearances I liked, switching them out when I wanted to alter the presentation of my character. The reason why all of this works very well as a tool of self-exploration is because the game is played through the lens of a first-person camera—you can look down any time, and see your body—chest, arms, belly, legs, the works—in the clothing and appearance of your choice, thus ramping up the feeling of immersiveness to impressive levels.

Despite all that, however, there is an unfortunate problem that almost all of these games share—most of the time, they will have strictly “gendered” clothing for your character, depending on the body type you chose for them. For example, if you want a classically feminine top for your character, the same piece of clothing will look like a regular shirt on a masculine body, so you’re locked out if you want to mix and match these aspects of gender expression. But in spite of that, some exceptions will almost always be available, and within these is where the player character can truly achieve the presentation the players themselves may aspire to.

What might be a minor detail to most players, but ended up meaning a lot to me, is that, at any given moment, the player is granted the option to change almost everything about their appearance in all of these games. This allows for a playful exploration of different body traits throughout the playthrough, to see how well it might fit into the player’s preconceived notion of self. Don’t feel like running around all the time being skinny and tall? No problem, pop by the transformation mirror and change your physique, and see how that would feel. Too much hair, or too little? The barber is ready to chop it all off or glue it back together, good as new. The possibilities are unlimited with this kind of freely available bodily review and are simply one more aspect of these games that allow for gender fluidity.

There are many more small gender euphoria details like that which I could name from my experience of playing video games these past few decades. From the simple joy of playing as the gender opposite of what I was assigned at birth, to diving into legitimately gender-bendy immersive experiences which make me never want to exit a certain game world, all of these little moments, among other things, compounded into my sense of identity, and I feel lucky I was able to explore all of these different “selves” through a safe, virtual medium. I can only imagine that other people who want to defy the classic notions of gender also find a lot of joy exploring these imaginary worlds and trying out new things for themselves. However, as good as all of these games were for exploring one’s identity, they are not perfect, and each of them has certain questionable aspects that make them stop short of being a perfect experience. Some notable changes that would be welcome are the introduction of trans and nonbinary voice actors for the main player characters, the option to freely mix and match bodily traits when in the character creation menu regardless of gender, and for clothing to always look the same no matter what type of body is wearing it, just to name a few. 

With all that in mind, I can’t wait for that one game which would finally allow the player to authentically and fully present as themselves, and allow them to spend dozens of hours in the body, clothing, and voice of their dreams.

But until then, the progress we’ve had in representation in video games is still huge, and it definitely makes me look forward to a future of inclusive gaming. I only hope the ever-present naysayers and killjoys clamoring for less representation won’t be loud enough to completely stop this delicate headway the gaming industry has made so far.

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Further reading (or rather, watching): 

Video Games & the Sexy Gender Binary, by Ada Černoša and Verity Ritchie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhhJ27S7H3M

How Bisexuality Changed Video Games, by Ada Černoša and Verity Ritchie 

Playing as Myself: Gender Expression in Gaming, by Salari

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Polaroid texture from post image by Parée, https://flic.kr/p/czKr5s