🐱 Why I deleted my Steam account

CatParty
http://www.gamesindustry.biz/articles/2017-09-14-why-i-deleted-my-steam-account
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Valve's dominance in the PC gaming space is made more harmful by its tolerance for toxic users


Earlier this week I wrote about a recurring problem in games, and what I was going to do as a member of the media to try and fix it. Today I'm going to talk about something I'm doing to fix it as a customer and gamer.

I hadn't intended to write a follow-up piece, but I hit a bit of a breaking point this week with the one-two punch of PewDiePie dropping the n-word on stream and Bungie removing a white supremacist symbol from its Destiny 2.

Both events are part of a wretched pattern that has been recurring in games for several years now, a pattern where we see some deep-seated prejudices in gaming culture come to the fore in alarming clarity for a moment, everyone points and decries the awfulness, then everyone else gets angry at the people who didn't like the awful thing. If we're very lucky, the people who screwed up in the first place publicly apologize, reflect on their mistakes and try to do better the next time. It's much, much rarer to see anyone indirectly responsible for this pattern take an honest look at their role in it, and we absolutely need them to if this is ever going to get better.

People talk about racism, sexism, transphobia and the like as if they are diseases, like it's something binary you either have or you don't. "This is racist. That is not racist." But maybe we should think of these things less like contagions and more like environmental pollutants. They surround us at all times, but in varying concentrations. They're like arsenic in your drinking water, or rat feces in your popcorn; we should aspire to have none at all, but that's a difficult enough task that we "accept" both in small quantities. (Seriously.) When they are present in very small amounts, the damage they do is manageable. But when the concentration is high enough, they can be fatal.

This is a cultural problem, which means all of us play a small role in making it better or worse. Like riding a bike instead of driving a car or using LEDs instead of incandescent lights, our actions don't move the needle on their own, but can add up to something significant when combined with the actions of enough others. This week's events left me wanting to do something to make things better, and that's when I saw a NSFW tweet with some screen caps of the Firewatch Steam forum.

After PewDiePie dropped his racist interjection, Firewatch developer Campo Santo had the popular streamer's video of the game pulled from YouTube using the service's copyright claims process. Angry gamers then began review bombing the title on Steam, and poured into the game-specific forums to flood them with abuse. Because that's how it's done now. Because we are gamers and every avenue of feedback available to us must be weaponized so that we can have things our way. Because we're so upset about a developer using a questionable invocation of the DMCA that we would crusade arm-in-arm with overt racists and human garbage rather than let our rage go unvented for even a moment. (See also: People actually concerned with ethics in games journalism who provided willing cover for virulent misogynists and harassers during GamerGate.)

Most of those threads in the Firewatch forum have since been consolidated, with the most exceptionally racist ones being deleted. But it wasn't Valve who handled the clean up, because Valve offloads moderation of game-specific forums to the developers. Just like translation of its store pages or curation of its catalog, Valve seems to like nothing more to offload the work on others. That approach might be fine for some functions, but the company cannot abdicate responsibility for the community and culture that has come from its own neglect.

That's why I'm terminating my Steam account.

For as much as Valve's actions have revitalized the PC gaming scene in the last dozen years, its inaction has been steadily deteriorating gaming culture. Our own Rob Fahey has covered Steam's community woes before, but the company's dogmatic commitment to removing human judgment from every aspect of the operation is in effect a judgment call of its own, one that presumes everything is acceptable and there are no limits other than legal ones. And on the rare occasion Valve actually deviates from that approach and enforces some standards, it does so reluctantly.

Right now you can find Hatred, Playing History 2 - Slave Trade, and House Party on the storefront, showing that Valve has no problem with the glorification of mass shootings, the trivialization of atrocities, or the gamification of rape. We can give them some points for consistency though, as the availability of Paranautical Activity suggests Valve is unwilling to take a stand even against death threats to its own founder.

This same approach of course applies to the Steam community, which technically has guidelines, but little interest in enforcing them. Hey, there's a guideline forbidding racism and discrimination, weird. I guess "Nazi Recruitment Group Order#1" (NSFW) with the swastika logo and 76 members has just fallen through the cracks for the last two years. And that user, "F*** Blacks," with a graphic avatar of a man fellating himself? I'm sure he just changed it and I just happened to visit the site in the split-second that was online before he was banned.

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Nope, still there.

Oh, and this one, "Whites Only," (NSFW) a group "for any fellow White Supremacists, Neo-Nazis, and anyone who just hates colored people!" (If you must click through, be warned it only gets more racist from there.) Maybe nobody's noticed them. Oh wait, no, here's a post in the Steam help forums asking people to help ban the group for being racist. Well maybe Valve hasn't seen it. Oh, wait. There's a post from a Valve community mod locking the thread and linking to the support page on how to report abusive behavior.

That's one of 29 community mods volunteering their time "to help keep discussions clean and on topic, and remove reported user generated content around the Steam Community." If you talk about actual Valve employees, people who might theoretically be trained and compensated to do the job, there are apparently only 12 that mod the community. Even they aren't necessarily focused on the task; they include programmers, software engineers, and UI designers that the company simply says "spend some time" helping out on the forums.

By the way, Steam had 12.9 million users online at the same time today. Steam is a massive chunk of the gaming community and Valve has offloaded moderation responsibilities to the developers and the users to a staggering degree. The company is so dedicated to having other people fix its problems that when I filed my request to terminate the account because I was sick of the toxicity, the first response I got from Steam Support said, "Please make sure you're using the 'Report Violation' feature to report inappropriate behavior or users on Steam."

Whatever its motives, Valve is clearly just fine operating an online toilet that harbors the worst dregs of society. But if it isn't willing to staff up a reasonable amount of dedicated community management people, enforce even the minimal guidelines it claims to have, and excise these bad faith actors from its community, then I have no choice but to believe Valve wants them there. And if Valve wants them there, it's fair to hold the company responsible for all the vileness they spew from the platform it owns and completely controls. Whatever benefit Steam once offered me has been more than offset by the harm it causes to its marginalized users, gaming culture, and society as a whole. I won't be a part of that community any longer.

So my Steam account is gone, or presumably will be once Steam Support gets around to fulfilling my request. While I would encourage everyone reading this to consider whether Steam is a community they want to associate themselves with, I have to acknowledge this is not a huge sacrifice for me. I'm losing access to dozens of games and a backlog of purchased-but-unplayed titles, but I'm not primarily a PC gamer.

Having acknowledged that, it would seem unreasonable that my "call to action" be for everyone to delete their Steam accounts, or for developers to pull their games from a store that provides an overwhelming majority of their business. Instead, I would simply ask that everyone do what they can to foster viable alternatives. As consumers, we can stop buying new games from Steam if they are available on GOG.com, itch.io, or an alternative storefront. Developers, make it a priority to get your games on as many storefronts as possible, even if they only incrementally boost the bottom line. Because right now the PC gaming industry is entirely too dependent on a company with entirely too little interest in basic human decency, and it's hurting us all.

 
Wouldn't it theoretically be almost essential to your career as a games journalist...?

Only if you were covering games exclusive to Steam; nowadays a good portion of Steam's catalogue can be had on Origin, GoG, or the Humble Store, among others.

And that's assuming that you actually bother playing the PC version at all, since it's pretty much an open secret that gaming journalists generally only play one version of a multiplatform release (usually the PS4 version nowadays, and the X360 version in the previous generation) when writing their reviews.
 
Hello, and welcome to the internet!

There will be some good people. There will be people you don't agree with. There will be people that are very outspoken about things you do not agree with. However, you don't have to interact with them. In fact, most of the time if you leave them alone, they will leave you alone. If they don't, just ignore them and don't give them the satisfaction.

THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO.

Imagine if this starts to inspire other journalists to start deleting their steam accounts.
Implying that they actually have one, or one they actually use for more than playing Peggle.
 
GOOGLE LETS ME SEARCH FOR "NIGGER" ON THEIR WEB INTERNET SEARCH SERVICE IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD TODAY I'M DELETING MY HOTMAIL ACCOUNT

enjoy being a "games journalist" that can't report on anything firsthand that comes out on steam (nearly everything)
can't wait to see the first news anchor that gouges out their eyes and ears to avoid supporting "harsh nazi rhetoric" or "bad vibes" from world events
 
Old news and manufactured outrage for clicks. What else is now?

I dare someone more proficient in Twitter than me to make the following tweet:

Steam bans thousands of accounts for use of alt-right/neo-Nazi imagery, says “hate will not be tolerated” bit.ly/1e1EYJv

Let’s see how many people share or comment on it without clicking the link.
 
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https://ca.linkedin.com/in/brsinclair
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http://www.gamesindustry.biz/articles/2017-09-11-breaking-the-outrage-cycle
There's a vicious cycle in the games industry that has been picking up steam in recent years. As with any such cycle, that can make it hard to identify a starting point or a place to lay the blame. But seeing as this is an industry site, let's start with the industry.

For the last decade, the industry has gradually embraced a games-as-a-service approach, where they are no longer selling a discrete entertainment experience but an open-ended service. The business model does not hinge on getting people in the door so much as it depends on keeping them around, giving opportunities over months, years, or potentially even decades for a company to extract money from the userbase.

This is regularly called "a relationship" with a customer. And if we are to judge that relationship the way we might any of our own personal relationships, it is quite commonly an unhealthy one. I don't mean it's unhealthy in that it's purely transactional, where the publisher offers product X in exchange for Y amount of money. I would actually welcome that. It's unhealthy because it's transactional, but not transparent.

Publishers and developers spend a lot of time and money building communities, creating environments that allow superfans to flourish like cultures in a petri dish. They train developers to act as spokespeople and hire spokespeople to be community managers and everything is "for the fans" and all the feedback is listened to and carefully considered with very serious faces by your besties on the dev team. And every now and then, we get wonderful stories about the playerbase coming together to help out a friend in need or couples who met in-game and are now married in real life.

Of course, for the company running the game, building a community is ultimately a means to an end, a way to maximize profits. If it happens to boost morale on the dev team or make people feel better about their jobs, that's a welcome (but incidental) side effect. But to the players--the ones with those heart-warming stories, the ones who get tattoos, or the ones that plan a cross-country vacation around a fan expo--the game in question is something more than a product; it's a part of their life.

As much as individual developers might love to hear their work has touched someone in that way, it's not an exclusively beneficial thing because it means the relationship has been thrown out of balance. The players are invested emotionally, yet the company on the other end is only capable of being invested financially. And if there's one thing the worst examples of free-to-play have shown, that's a relationship ripe for exploitation.

But the problem isn't limited to virtual aquarium apps that kill kids' fish off and then charge real money to revive them; it's inherent to any business model where the player isn't being told what they're being charged for. That includes DLC Season Passes that launch with vague descriptions of what players will get but always manage to have a very concrete price attached. It includes virtual currencies that psychologically distance players from the idea that they're spending real money and turn value propositions into a math quiz. And it most definitely includes loot boxes where players can pay unlimited amounts of money opening box after box in the hopes of chancing upon the one thing they actually wanted to spend money on. (Maybe it's possible to introduce the specter of gambling into the foundation of a relationship and still have it be a healthy one, but I'm skeptical, to say the least.)

All of these things, from community building to loot boxes, are efforts of obfuscation. They are intentionally seeking to distort players' perceptions of what their relationship with the company is and what factors they can base their purchasing decisions on. Companies pursue these tactics because they can be fabulously profitable, even though they know a certain portion of their player base won't like it.

If this were a purely transactional relationship on both sides, that would be the point at which the players simply find another game to play. But because this is gaming and we have the most passionate fans in the world and we're so invested in all the wonderful feedback they give and listening carefully to every bit of it, those communities full of emotionally invested players are now hurt and angry and wanting to fix this thing they were always told was all about them and what they want. So it's not terribly surprising that some of them feel inordinately hurt and betrayed, and that some of them will vent that anger inappropriately, whether it be tweeting rotten things at the dev team, rallying their fellow community members to brigade a game's reviews, or generally attempting to berate the game makers into submission.

And that's where the press comes in. In some cases, the players' grievances are justified. In some others, they are not. But they often get covered just the same. When we in the press cover this backlash without comment, it can be read as a tacit approval of the anger. When we cover the backlash with condemnation, it still risks validating inappropriate behavior, giving that ultra-hostile fraction of a fraction of the community the attention they sought to put pressure on the game's makers. When we ignore the outrage, we risk failing in our obligation to inform our readers of what's actually happening, or turning a blind eye to some of the industry's most deeply entrenched problems that have gone unaddressed for far too long.

The result is this same debacle keeps happening again and again, because this perversely works on some level for all parties involved. Publishers and developers can make money hand over fist by cultivating emotionally invested communities they will almost inevitably run afoul of at some point. Angered players can throw a tantrum in the full knowledge that the squeaky wheel gets the grease. The worst case scenario for them is that things don't change but the publisher or developer releases a statement praising how dedicated and passionate the fans hurling abuse at them really are. At best, they might actually get what they want. And on the press side, we get a bit of traffic, perhaps a spike in those oh-so-vital engagement metrics.

Naturally, it's easier to identify a vicious cycle than it is to break it. But as with so many of these problems, the simplest solution (though maybe not the easiest one) involves everyone contributing to the problem to reflect on their role in it, and do what they can to remove their contribution from the equation.

As a member of the press, that means I need to be more thoughtful about what I cover and how. Things that sound great in theory can fall apart once put into practice, but for the moment at least I believe that means ensuring that stories are not centered around backlash. The news isn't "Gamers angry about Destiny 2 shader changes" so much as it is "Destiny 2 changes shaders to consumables." The accompanying Reddit thread is probably not news. Anonymous commenters saying outrageous things are not news. They do not get coverage. I will not give them a megaphone just so internet rubberneckers have something horrible to gawk at.

If I center the story around the thing that has upset people and it doesn't feel newsworthy (and in the Destiny 2 shader case for a trade site like GamesIndustry.biz, it's not), then I don't write the story. That's not a promise to avoid covering ugly outbursts from the fan community entirely, but to apply a much more stringent set of criteria to them. It's an attempt to ensure that I am reporting on them because there is something newsworthy there, not because they're ghoulishly interesting. It's an invitation for you to call me on it the next time my byline appears on such a story, to ask how I came to the conclusion that this outrage deserved coverage.

I can't speak for all games journalists. I can't even speak for everyone at GamesIndustry.biz. But the minuscule slice of the gaming world that appears directly under my byline is the slice I have control over, and I desperately want it to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem.

I won't pretend my course of action here is The Right One. I won't even pretend it's going to be a particularly effective one, but I won't resign myself to perpetuating the problem and making it harder for the next person with a better idea to come along and break the cycle. However futile the effort may be, I want my net impact here to be a positive one. I would encourage you to consider what slice of the industry you have control over, no matter how small, and what you want your net impact to be.
 
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