I Refused To Play "Boy Games," Until I Realized I Was Missing Out

gamespot.com:

I remember, quite vividly, when Halo first came out--though I suspect it might be for an entirely different reason than you.

Prior to the release of Halo: Combat Evolved, I had the luxury of never once considering how my gender impacted my favorite hobby, which is both beautiful and hilarious in retrospect. I, quite simply, played video games. That's how it should be, right?

I played everything from Harvest Moon and Banjo-Kazooie to MediEvil and Diablo. I longed more than anything to be like Tifa Lockhart and Lara Croft and slept in Pokemon pajamas under a Pokemon comforter in my Pokemon-themed room. As far as I was concerned, I loved video games not just as much as the next person, but even more so. However, around the time Halo came out was also when I learned there was a secret gaming hierarchy--and my position on it was significantly lower than I would have presumed.

Though Halo wasn't the first «boy» video game, it was the first game that made me feel like a girl, which quickly became synonymous with «outsider.» There was a shift in how my male friends spoke to me, as well as each other. A shift that, while perhaps mostly due to puberty, felt exacerbated due to the rise of the shooter genre. And after I grew tired of attempting to find the correct level of femininity--the proper way to present myself in order to be one of the guys while also being wanted by the guys--I decided the best way to navigate life was to simply resent the genre, along with any others that prided themselves on their gunplay, top-of-the-line graphics, or difficulty. After all, if you can't join them, beat them.

Over time, it became incredibly easy for me to criticize games I knew only by name as shallow, devoid of emotion, and all style over