Earlier this year, Infold invited me to attend Love and Deepspace’s second anniversary event. At this point, I had been playing the game on and off for about a year. I was juggling questionable relationships with both Zayne, the main character’s physician, and Sylus, the violent leader of a crime syndicate. And while I wasn’t as financially invested as many players, I certainly had fostered a level of emotional investment in the game, its story, and its charming characters. I was thrilled to be asked to attend–thrilled to go to something so unabashedly for women, and to be able to create content for an audience gaming outlets tend to underserve.
And then I attended.
Upon returning from my trip, I made a short video that highlighted the game and its fanbase while largely avoiding discussing the actual trip itself. Frankly, it was because I figured that if I didn’t have anything nice to say, perhaps it was better to say nothing at all. The event itself was underwhelming, and I felt terrible for all the die-hard fans who didn’t have the same level of privilege and access I did who had to wait outside in the New York City cold for literal hours just to be greeted by a trailer and cardboard cut outs of their favorite characters. Sure, the event was free, but I still felt as if these fans had been jilted. But this is only one part of what left such a bad taste in my mouth.
The real kicker was when a representative walked up to me while filming the game’s community, all lined up on the street and chittering away happily despite the bitter cold, and asked me if I could avoid showcasing any men in my coverage. I was confused, for a brief moment, until they elaborated further and told me it was to avoid fostering this perception that the game embraces gay relationships.
My stomach lurched, and I felt a rush of heat and defiance sweep over me. “I mean, I didn’t sign anything agreeing to that. That makes me uncomfortable,” I replied. The representative seemed sympathetic, but indicated that, while I could go against Infold’s wishes, the studio might be unhappy.
My show of resistance earned me several side-eyes and a heightened level of supervision as I spoke to people; I could feel them lean in to listen to the questions I ask and to ensure I was playing nice. By coincidence, not intention, the video I made showcased femme-presenting individuals. But to be fair, the event–and fanbase–is overwhelmingly female. After making the video, I sat at my desk debating how I wanted to go about writing all this. There was a part of me that felt like I was obligated to mention the blatant anti-LGBTQ+ sentiments on display, but another part of me worried that to do so would be culturally insensitive. China, the country where Infold and developer Papergames are based, has very different beliefs and laws–ones I am entirely unfamiliar with and, perhaps more importantly, am not subjugated to. I thought and thought and thought until the window for that piece to still be considered timely had passed and a pile of new assignments had fallen on my lap. Time, and the ceaseless media cycle, made the decision for me.
