Ten years ago, a wave of gamers attacked developers Zoë Quinn and Brianna Wu and media critic Anita Sarkeesian. All three were part of a growing chorus of people calling for a more inclusive culture in gaming. The attackers published their victims’ personal information and harassed them, doing everything they could to stifle women’s efforts. The incident, which became known as Gamergate, highlighted the toxicity women face in gaming spaces and beyond.
Over time, the harassment faded from the news, but its remnants never completely disappeared from the Internet and public life.
Gamergate articulated a particular kind of aggrieved masculinity, an anger at losing the power of being the target audience. Since 2014, it has shaped everything from the men’s rights movement to the current iteration of the Republican Party, describing what it means to be a man in certain corners of the internet.
In many ways, says Adrienne Massanari, an adjunct professor at American University’s School of Communication, Gamergate foreshadowed a broader right-wing backlash to real changes taking place in American society. Former Donald Trump adviser Steve Bannon jumped on the bandwagon in 2015, harnessing the power of engaged online fandoms to bolster Trump’s campaign.
Within the community, Gamergate seemingly divided men into distinct camps. Men who came to Sarkeesian’s defense, for example, were nicknamed “white knights” and simps. Meanwhile, the people doing the bullying saw themselves as trying to protect the space from “outside” influences from “social justice warriors” who threatened to take away the elements they believed made gaming fun.
“Even though we know that a lot of people play video games,[the men involved in Gamergate]were considered the target demographic for video games. When that started to change, the reaction was, of course, anger,” Massanari says. “Now that is reflected, refracted and amplified in Trumpism and in this kind of far-right Republican movement that reacts to demographic and social changes towards a more equal society.”
This same kind of anger and resistance can now be seen in figures like JD Vance and Elon Musk, who criticize “wokeness” in politics and culture at large. In interviews, Musk has said that what motivated him to buy X, formerly Twitter, was Fighting the “awake mind virus” which he claims is destroying civilization. The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 policy roadmap repeatedly mentions “woke” progressivism as a threat that must be eliminated, in particular by eliminating Diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives in government spaces.
This connection is completed in what has become “Gamergate 2.0”, a reaction to inclusion efforts where “DEI” is now a catchphrase. Ten years ago, gamers pushed back against critics like Sarkeesian for pointing out that many female characters in games were Nothing but tropesIn 2024, campaigns are targeting video game consulting firms like Sweet Baby for engaging in what some gamers see as “forced diversification.” No matter what the rallying cry, the reason is the same: being upset that video game characters no longer represent their interests.
While male grievance politics isn’t exactly new, says Patrick Rafail, a sociology professor at Tulane University, “their incorporation into society is.”
Although Gamergate came From a relatively niche subculture, elements of it can now be found in influencers like Andrew Tate, who have popularised “these very simplistic, archetypal, stereotypical extremes” of masculinity, says Debbie Ging, a professor of digital media and gender at Dublin City University. A new era of podcasting, along with a rise of short-form video platforms like TikTok, “which are heavily algorithm-driven”, have been important drivers of this form of rhetoric, says Ging.
