Shoulder to shoulder
Every person can recall what Christmas felt like as a child. As the day drew closer, a few presents were added under the tree, and if the year had been excellent, there would be one shared present. The one that had the real anticipation, the moment we all waited for, was the unveiling of the big present. The one meant for all of us to share. And more often than not, that gift was a gaming console. When I think of Sega, I can still hear the collecting of SSonics coins. With Nintendo comes the iconic songs of Donkey Kong and Mario Bros, which turned into PlayStation hearing Lara Croft say, "You know it's gonna be a real pleasure to shut you up." Each new system marks a chapter in our childhood. Looking back, it wasn't just about the games but being shoulder to shoulder together, all screaming and laughing at the same thing. Those Christmas mornings created some of my fondest memories. Ones I carry with me long after the consoles have been packed away and the controllers have been set down.
I was fortunate to witness the growth of video games through my oldest sister's hands. For me, video games have always been a place where anyone can enjoy playing. Now that I’m older, I’ve realized that, much like the rest of the world, it is a place dominaded by men.
Despite the rapid growth of the gaming industry, and despite the fact that women and LGBTQ+ people make up a significant portion of players, mainstream gaming culture still often treats them like outsiders—or worse, targets. The GLAAD Gaming Report revealed that less than 2% of characters in major games are explicitly LGBTQ+. And even fewer get to be the hero. Yet 17% of gamers identify as LGBTQ+. That’s not just underrepresentation that’s erasure.
In EA’s piece "What Inclusion Means to Players", players describe what it feels like to finally see someone who looks like them in a game. One quote stuck with me: “Inclusion means that someone thought about me.” That simple sentence captures what so many players crave—recognition, validation, belonging.
The article emphasizes that inclusion doesn’t just make people feel welcome; it deepens emotional investment. When players can see themselves in the world, the experience becomes personal. It feels like you’re not just watching the story—you’re in it. That’s the power of authentic representation.
A report from AbleGamers, "Why Inclusive Gaming Matters", expands this even further by reminding us that inclusion also means accessibility. Gaming can be a lifeline for people with disabilities a way to explore, connect, and compete. But when games lack options like remappable controls, colorblind modes, or subtitle customization, they send a clear message: this game isn’t for you. That’s not just exclusion. That’s neglect.
And it’s not just advocacy groups or marginalized players calling for change—it’s the broader gaming community too. A 2023 Newzoo survey found that over 70% of players believe diversity and representation in games is important. Younger generations, in particular, are seeking out games that reflect real-world experiences—whether that means diverse characters, inclusive storylines, or more varied cultural settings.
So why is the industry still so slow to evolve?
Part of it is fear. Fear that changing the “default” will alienate core audiences. Fear that inclusion is “too political.” But what these fears miss is that the core audience has already changed. Gamers today come from every background imaginable. They are queer, trans, Black, disabled, Latinx, Asian, neurodivergent, Muslim, nonbinary and they’ve always been here. It’s just that the games haven’t always seen them.
Inclusive gaming doesn’t mean every story needs to be about identity. It means identity is allowed to be part of the story. It means developers have the freedom and support to tell narratives that reflect the world around us, not just one slice of it. It means everyone gets to feel that sense of wonder and excitement we once felt on Christmas morning, opening up a new world and stepping inside.
Because gaming, at its best, is a space of shared joy. Of laughter echoing through the room as we scream at the screen, shoulder to shoulder, fully immersed in the same digital moment. That kind of connection should be for everyone.
And the more inclusive games become, the more people will finally feel what we did growing up that they belong here too.