CONSTRUCTING COMMUNAL

GAMERS: GAMERS’ GROUP

IDENTITY WORK
Bertan Buyukozturk

ABSTRACT

Using two years of ethnographic fieldwork and 17 in-depth interviews,

I examine a college gaming group’s identity work. Stigmatized as social
isolates, gamers employed oppositional identity work to construct themselves
as “communal gamers.” Gaming Council members signified an identity
counter to prevailing stereotypes by collaboratively coding “communal” to
promote member interaction, affirming communality through joking and
member recognition, and policing to enforce proper identity presentations.
This study contributes to identity work research by furthering our under-
standing of identity work as group process and how groups manage identity
dilemmas.

Keywords: Group identity work; subculture; identity dilemmas; stigma;

video games; identity construction

INTRODUCTION
As nine college gamers, arms around one another, sang the final chorus of Bonnie
Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” they slowly released their embrace. Chase
and Sofia put down the Rock Band microphones they had shared with the group
while Chloe rushed to grab her camera to capture the final moments of the
Monthly Gaming Social. As tradition, these gamers ended this social on a high
note. Cheerfully congratulating each other on another successful event, they
began packing up their gaming consoles, controllers, and monitors.

Subcultures
Studies in Symbolic Interaction, Volume 54, 53–72
Copyright © 2022 by Emerald Publishing Limited
All rights of reproduction in any form reserved
ISSN: 0163-2396/doi:10.1108/S0163-239620220000054004
53
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Representative of the group’s events, this scenario highlights the group identity
these students claimed was a distinguishing factor of the Gaming Council: They
were communal gamers.
In this study, I examine how members of a college gaming group constructed a
shared identity that deflected negative gamer stereotypes (Kowert, Festl, and
Quandt 2014). Gaming Council members were part of the larger gaming sub-
culture in that they defined themselves as gamers, viewed gaming as beneficial
activity, and shared esoteric knowledge about gaming. Like many “interlocking
groups” that constitute larger subcultures (Fine and Kleinman 1979), however,
the collegiate gaming group developed distinct practices, values, and a shared
group identity. Following the recommendation of Shaw (2010) who critiques
scholarship on “gamer culture” as neglecting interaction, I employ and contribute
to Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock’s (1996:121) conceptualization of subcultural
identity work: “the work people do together to create the signs, codes, and rites of
affirmation that become shared resources of identity-making.” More specifically,
I analyze the underlying group processes through which a shared identity as
“communal gamers” was collaboratively maintained.
Many interactionists’ (e.g., Snow and Anderson 1987; Wilkins 2012) and
gaming scholars’ (e.g., Shaw 2012) investigations of identity emphasize the
construction of individual/singular identities. While these efforts are vital to our
understanding of fluid social identities – and definitions of “gamer” indeed differ
from one individual to another – my focus is on the group work involved in
creating and maintaining a shared definition of “gamer.” I contribute to the
literature on group identity work by illustrating six subprocesses through which
Gaming Council members negotiated a contested identity: orienting newcomers,
mentoring, joking, celebrating members, gossiping, and calling out nonconformists.

LITERATURE REVIEW
Video gamers have faced negative stereotypes since the early 1980s. Gamers are
often stigmatized as violent introverts incapable of everyday social life, addicts,
and socially inferior (Granic, Lobel, and Engels 2013; Kowert, Griffiths, and
Oldmeadow 2012). Indeed, Kowert and colleagues (2014:145) describe gamer
stereotypes as centering “around themes of (un)popularity, (un)attractiveness,
idleness, and social incompetence, conjuring up images of socially inept teenage
boys, hypnotically engaged in their gaming worlds.” With the recent events of
Gamergate, a “culture war” between “nerd-centric gaming culture” and feminist
gaming critiques (Kidd and Turner 2016), gamers have been additionally criti-
cized as misogynistic and sexist. Scholars have found both games and players to
promote misogynistic behaviors, leading to unequal treatment of minority players
(particularly black and/or women gamers; Gray 2014) and gamers’ hesitation to
identify as such (Shaw 2012). Together, these cultural claims have branded the
“gamer” as deviant for roughly three decades.
To counter these stereotypes, gamers engage in identity work, or the contin-
uous process whereby individuals construct identities. Snow and Anderson (1987:
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 55

1348) explain that identity work is used “to create, present, and sustain personal
identities that are congruent with and supportive of the self-concept.” This work
includes strategies of preventing or reducing “blemishes of individual character”
(Goffman 1986:4) such as impression management and identity talk (Snow and
Anderson 1987:1348). Following Goffman (1956), identity work scholarship has
examined strategies of individual identity presentation and stigma management.
This work illuminated numerous processes of identity creation and stigma
avoidance including passing (e.g., Khanna and Johnson 2010; Roschelle and
Kaufman 2004), tailoring personal narratives (e.g., Schrock and Reid 2006;
Wilkins 2012), and constructing symbolic boundaries (e.g., McKinzie and
Bradley 2013; Schwalbe et al. 2000). These processes often include independent
tactics of defining identity, (de)emphasizing certain aspects of the self.
Yet, scholarship regarding group processes of identity work are minimal
despite Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock (1996) laying the groundwork two decades
ago. Subcultural identity work – or the group processes used to create shared
identities (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996) – presents a framework to extend
identity work beyond the individual. Subcultural identity work emphasizes the
group processes of defining, coding, affirming, and policing shared identities
(Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996). Defining is the symbolic creation of
identity and has been the most examined process of subcultural identity work.
Fields (2014:163), for instance, found that college knitters’ group tactics – reor-
ienting the meaning of knitting, emphasizing unique materials/performances, and
hosting public meetings – “transforms knitting from a stigmatized activity to a
self-affirming skill.” Rejecting the stereotype of the elderly knitter, “Neo-Knit-
terz” used subcultural identity work to justify their pastime and redefine “knitter”
as a youthful, artistic identity. Ezzell (2009:112) found comparable results with a
collegiate rugby team where women used subcultural identity work to avoid
stigmas associated with rugby (being butch lesbians) and jointly formed a “het-
erosexy-fit” identity defined as “simultaneously tough, fit, feminine, and hetero-
sexual.” Group members worked cooperatively to redefine the symbolic meaning
of their pastimes, defining their subcultural identity in the process.
Overall, interactionists emphasize how groups define shared identities but pay
less attention to the processes of coding, affirming, and policing, though they are
equally vital to understanding groups’ identity creation and maintenance.1
Coding refers to the construction of a set of rules individuals use to signify an
identity. These rules serve as a “set of cultural commonalities, that most members
use as a guide for forming and maintaining a sub-cultural identity” (Wood 2003:
50). It is important to note, however, that while these codes shape the enactment
of a subcultural identity, they are emergent and are fashioned/reinforced via
group interactions. They are not part of an intangible subculture that actors
invoke, but the result of individuals’ face-to-face behaviors and shared meanings.
Therefore, while “gamers” may engage in similar behaviors, each gaming group
can have unique codes and practices.
Affirming involves “the creation of opportunities for enacting and validating
claims to an identity,” thereby conveying one’s membership in the subcultural
identity (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996:123). In addition to defining a
56 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

subcultural identity into existence and setting the codes bounding it, groups’
interactions offer their constituents the chance to enact these identities. Whether
through face-to-face engagement or narrative participation, subcultural groups
provide vital opportunities for participation, acceptance, and validation. Without
these chances, “the identity in question remains an ephemeral notion, connected
to no real person… It would remain a private fantasy” (Schwalbe and Mason-
Schrock 1996:126). Thus, groups’ affirming rituals are central to understanding
subcultural identity as these identities would cease to exist without the perfor-
mance and validation provided within group settings.
Policing is “the protection of the meaning of an identity and enforcement of
the code of signifying it,” ensuring group members properly enact shared iden-
tities (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996:123). This process involves the main-
tenance of group identity codes by controlling who can and cannot claim
membership, thus fortifying the group’s identity. Those who break norms or do
not enact the identity correctly may be ousted and denied group membership –
excluding them from the subcultural identity. Though group leaders or gate-
keepers may take part in this behavior, “policing requires collaboration to be
effective since it is consensus that [prevents] a breakdown of the code or loss of an
identity’s meaning” (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996:127). Excluding indi-
viduals who fail to abide by subcultural identity codes is a group effort whereby
members simultaneously reject individuals who violate the code and reinforce
their shared identity.
Individuals may also use group identity work when facing identity dilemmas,
which arise as normative expectations of an identity conflict with individuals’
sense of valued identities, disrupting attempts to claim a valued self (Dunn and
Creek 2015). This work is both a “generic social process” (Dunn and Creek 2015:
15) and a “subcultural project” that creates “the resources, codes, and rites of
affirmation that individuals need to signify better selves than the dominant cul-
ture permits” (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996:141) and has been employed
by various groups to combat stereotypes and construct credible identities. Thus
the focus is not on structural change or mobilization – though this is may be one
outcome – but on “[resisting] their devaluing at the hands of the dominant
group(s)” and “[creating] themselves as people, individually and collectively”
(Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996:141).
I explore the importance of the three less examined subcultural identity work
processes – coding, affirming, and policing – that are enacted by Gaming Council
(GC) members. I add two subprocesses for each to further our understanding of
these tactics: coding: orienting newcomers and mentoring; affirming: joking and
celebrating members; policing: gossiping and calling out nonconformists. In
doing so, I contribute to a scholarly understanding of group practices in main-
taining subcultural identities. GC members’ subcultural identity work incorpo-
rated three tactics – collaborative coding, affirming communality, and policing
noncommunal gamers – in their attempts to construct a positive group identity. I
term this the communal gamer identity to accentuate the creation of this resistive
identity and its collaborative nature.
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 57

METHODS
I collected data from two years of ethnographic fieldwork and 17 in-depth
interviews with members of a student gaming group. Located in a public
southeastern US university, the Gaming Council was a group of approximately
40 volunteers who met weekly and hosted gaming events.2 I gained access to the
group by speaking with their president about an interest in gaming research. A
(graduate) student myself, I was allowed to join the group and observed and
jotted notes at 55 meetings, 58 events, 4 annual award ceremonies, and over 60
informal gatherings. I also conducted informal interviews with group members at
meetings and events, asking individuals to expand upon topics that naturally
arose during group interaction (e.g., gender in video games, gamer stereotypes,
and opinions on GC rituals). In addition, I collected group handouts (flyers, etc.),
openly made audio recordings and used these materials to compose full fieldnotes
after each observation.3
Three months into fieldwork, I began recruiting participants for formal
interviews by approaching individuals at events and made monthly open calls
during weekly meetings. I conducted 17 in-depth interviews with group members,
including three formally elected leaders of the group. Interviews covered personal
backgrounds, gaming histories, current gaming behaviors, definitions of “gamer,”
and thoughts about inequalities in gaming culture. 59% of the interviewees
identified as White, 12% Black, 12% Hispanic, and 17% Asian. About 29% of
respondents (5 of 17) identified as women. Most interviewees were upperclassmen
and participants’ ages ranged from 19 to 27.
The GC was a university sanctioned student group tasked with creating
gaming events for the general student body. They received a small budget from
the university to fund activities and purchase games. They also followed insti-
tutional requirements to create open, public events for the campus. This likely
incentivized them to emphasize inclusivity and focus on increasing membership.
Additionally, being part of the university may have provided participants addi-
tional validity to resist stereotypes.
Group activities centered on playing and discussing video games. The group
emphasized multiplayer cooperative and/or competitive video games, although
single-player games were incorporated on occasion. Some events, for instance,
featured contests for whom could accumulate the highest score in a certain game
level. Many participants engaged in the larger gamer subculture through
participating in online gaming, game-specific forums, tournaments, and con-
ventions. Although these various contexts may emphasize certain meanings over
others, while in the collegiate gaming group, members prioritized inclusivity and
communality. The GC had just started integrating tabletop (board or card)
games toward the end of data collection.
My initial interest of gender in gaming shifted to the group’s communal
identity as these themes emerged consistently throughout fieldwork and inter-
views. In pursuing these themes, I recognized that members used group partici-
pation and rituals to bolster their shared sense of self. Through analytic memo-
writing (Charmaz 2006), I explored what such activities had in common and
58 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

broadly conceptualized their actions as subcultural identity work. The fieldnotes

and interview transcripts were coded to determine how members constructed
themselves as gamers. Rejecting stereotypes, the group formed a shared oppo-
sitional identity as “communal gamers,” emphasizing sociability. Specifically,
GC members collaboratively coded, affirmed participation and policed identity
boundaries to signify their communality. Before presenting this analysis, I first
examine the dilemma participants faced that facilitated such identity work.

“[WE’RE] JUST PEOPLE WHO PLAY GAMES”:

GAMERS’ IDENTITY DILEMMA
I know a lot of people that don’t play games see gamers as antisocial bums that don’t really
hang out with anyone or do anything besides hole up in their rooms and play games for hours
on end…. (Sophia-interview)

Participants experienced identity dilemmas as expected stereotypes of the

isolated gamer (see Sophia above) clashed with their positive identification as
“gamer.” On one hand, gamers “love video games” (William-interview) with
“video games [as] their top, top interests [which] really influenced their life and
their circle of friends” (Emma-interview). Gaming was a pastime, but also a
central part of gamers’ identity. On the other hand, gamers faced stereotypes as
psychologically troubled and/or violent introverts. Gamer is thus a discreditable
identity, potentially casting individuals as deviants.
Gamers experience repressive cultural expectations that conflict with players’
enjoyment of video games, disrupting attempts to claim a valued self. Sebastian,
for example, described the stereotypical gamer as a “skinny nerd with glasses
[and] no friends.” Wyatt explained the stereotypical gamer as a “fat, unshaven
guy living in his mother’s basement.” Charlotte offered commonplace views of “a
cartoon nerd [wearing] suspenders” and Henry added, “glasses-wearing couch
potato…playing video games all the time.” Respondents imagined non-gamers’
impressions of gamers as consistent with media depictions of obsessed, lazy
introverts (Kowert et al. 2012).
Considering these stereotypes, some participants were hesitant to embrace the
“gamer” label. Like Shaw’s (2012) informants who shied from identifying as
“gamers,” nearly half of the interviewees (7 of 17) initially distanced themselves
from a gamer identity. Oliver, for example, said the term was “so muddied”:
I would definitely say playing games would make me a gamer. But I wouldn’t identify with it
straight away without [removing] parts of it that other people have assigned…

Isabella further illustrated the stereotypical “gamer”:

Honestly, I don’t particularly like to be called a gamer because to me it usually isn’t used in… a
good light… It’s someone who sits in their little cave and plays games.

Echoing others, Oliver and Isabella’s awareness of gamer stereotypes made

them reluctant to identify as gamers. They felt uncomfortable being transformed
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 59

from “a whole and usual person to a tainted, discounted one” who fell prey to
their supposedly “domineering or unnatural passions” (Goffman 1986:3–4).
Some participants retold stories of stigmatization, particularly during their
youth. Emma, for instance, explained “it’s usually just people who don’t play
video games that call you a nerd for playing video games.” She spoke about
playing games in grade school as a clear marker of being a “nerd.” Emma
continued, “I would be playing a game, or I would be talking about a game, and
[non-gamers say], ‘You’re such a nerd.’" She also explained that “people think it
more now, they don’t vocalize it.” Sophia agreed, describing outsiders’ views of
games as for “younger people” and she was “supposed to stop” in adulthood.
Oliver agreed, describing the societal “attitude” of gaming as “for kids,” despite
enjoying them as an adult. Therefore, although not explicitly, at least some
participants still dealt with gamer stigma.
Negative stereotypes were so pervasive that some individuals were reluctant to
join the Gaming Council even though they considered themselves gamers,
evidencing an internalization of this stigma. During the drive to a post-meeting
gathering at Pizza Palace, the local pizzeria, Liam explained, “I basically showed
up [at GC] … to see how [nasty] and horrible it was.” He assumed members were
“people who don’t really leave their rooms.” He recalled, however, being
pleasantly surprised after the meeting: “I was like, ‘Wow this is really cool and
awesome.’” Liam recognized members of GC as “well-adjusted people with lots
of different interests” who not only played games but also “hang out” outside of
the meetings. This story speaks to the internalization of common stereotypes –
participants bought into gamer stigmas. In other words, “bad” gamer stereotypes
had become so commonplace that gamers themselves incorporated and used
them to sort their company as Liam did above. Additionally, the events of
Gamergate prove useful here as the tumultuous gaming context may have
encouraged participants to be increasingly critical of their company. These ste-
reotypes prompted gamers to navigate conflict between their pastime and their
supposed behavior.
Participants’ identity dilemmas formed from the contradiction between gamer
stereotypes and positive meanings these individuals attached to the gamer iden-
tity, but this dilemma was soothed through participation in GC. As Liam
describes, members were aware of these stereotypes but still maintained the
positive identity “gamer.” Others also emphasized the social aspect of the group.
Chase said the group “brings people together” and Lucas said, “you actually see
the person you are playing with and … have a good time and interact with them.”
Charlotte described the group as a “community [that] fosters togetherness.” The
group’s collaborative subversion of stereotypes was a draw for members. Rather
than introverted loners; they were communal gamers.

CONSTRUCTING COMMUNAL GAMERS

To navigate their identity dilemmas and overcome gaming stereotypes, Gaming
Council members used subcultural identity work (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock
60 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

1996) to create identities as “communal gamers” and subverted cultural assump-

tions through meaningful group interaction. This was accomplished through three
processes: collaborative coding, affirming communality, and policing boundaries.
All three processes promote group cohesion, though policing boundaries required
group leaders to resolve tension and occasionally eject uncooperative members.
Together, the Gaming Council’s group identity work taught group members how
to behave as “communal gamers,” reducing the impact of societal stereotypes and
fostering a positive group identity.

Collaborative Coding
During group functions, Gaming Council members signified communality
through standard rituals that reinforced a communal gamer code, such as
welcoming newcomers and celebrating veterans. Otherwise known as identity
codes – or prescribed behaviors that allow group members to be seen, by others
and [themselves], as a certain kind of person” (Wolkomir 2004:45) – these
unspoken rules promoted companionship rather than stereotypical isolation. GC
rituals focused on orienting members toward communality and mentoring peers.
Communality here refers to the members’ understanding of themselves as part of
the group and abiding by expectations of inclusivity.4 Members worked together
to impart the cooperative group nature onto initiates, signifying and reinforcing
the communal gamer identity.

Orienting Newcomers
Nineteen people packed into a small meeting room tucked under the stairs of the
Pupil Recreation Building (PRB), chatting about gaming news or their recent
gaming escapades. One stood at the front of the room looking over the rest,
taking note of who was present. Ready to begin the meeting, Liam settled down
the chattering group: “All right guys, we’re going to go ahead and get started.
Thanks for coming out.” Spotting an unfamiliar face, he continued, “We have a
new member today. You want to introduce yourself? Name, major, and favorite
game.”
This ritual was important for current members as it provided an opportunity
to enact the communal gamer identity by welcoming newcomers and helping
them enter the group. Unlike stereotypically isolated gamers, GC members
eagerly socialized with newcomers often talking about their favorite games and
what they were currently playing and/or anticipating. The introductory ritual
ended with applause for the newcomer as the group symbolically embraced them,
confirming that the individual was welcome. Initial group ties grew as current
members enacted the communal gamer code, which created the foundation for
the newcomers’ future identity work.
This introduction ritual also incorporated new members into the GC com-
munity, fostering a sense of belonging and providing connections to the group in
the form of shared gaming tastes. As newcomers introduced themselves and
revealed their favorite game, members responded with friendly comments (“legit”
or “me too”) providing the initiate’s first connections. Sebastian, for example,
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 61

recalled in his interview how “accepting” GC was when he first joined and how he
easily became friends with Liam and Jayden. When Ava introduced herself, her
interest in the Kingdom Hearts series prompted a discussion about the games’
characters, helping her connect with Jacob. Introducing oneself to the group
initiated contact between newcomers and veterans, providing a “staging area for
friendship” (Fine 1989:7).
Once welcomed, new members were introduced to formal aspects of the
communal gamer code, and how to signify the communal gamer identity. At the
end of each meeting, first-time attendees were invited to the front of the room
where the group’s leaders explained the process of “earning your voting rights”
(earning full membership), which bestowed status and decision making power.
Each newcomer was given a membership card indicating that full membership
required attending three meetings, proposing three event ideas, volunteering at
three events, and participating in three public relations activities. Such require-
ments exposed newcomers to communal gamer identity codes: attend, create,
volunteer, and recruit people for their communal events. As Elijah stated, “that’s
why we have that whole thing set up where you…help out – that means you really
want to be a part of [GC].” Group members were gamers that participated in
group functions and interacted with fellow gamers, whether GC members or
otherwise – they were communal gamers, not isolates.
Once a member completed the membership card, they achieved “full” mem-
bership and were recognized by the group for their communal efforts. Isabella,
for example, was acknowledged during a meeting for completing her membership
card and was met with applause and cheering. Having shown their commitment
to the communal gamer identity, full members were given more influence in event
creation and played more direct roles in maintaining the group’s community
focus. Practicing communality gave members more influence within the group
and the process of earning full membership reinforced this communal orientation.
Though achieving group membership is perhaps not as straightforward as
completing a membership card, this process is vital in initiating and incentivizing
the communal behavior expected from group members.
The GC oriented newcomers toward communality through group rituals and
membership rules. Newcomers were immediately acknowledged, asked to iden-
tify themselves, linked to other GC members, and incorporated into the com-
munity. In doing so, group members signified their communal gamer identity by
welcoming newcomers and helping impart the communal focus on the group.
Rituals oriented newcomers and socialized them into the communal gamer
identity code as members emphasized the creation and maintenance of commu-
nity. Through emphasizing communal and interpersonal relationships within the
group, GC promoted a communal gamer identity and helped orient members to
enact this identity.

Mentoring
Another aspect of the communal gamer code was mentoring. GC rituals involved
consistent peer mentorship, which occurred informally throughout events, but
62 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

also formally during the “Game Talk” section of each meeting. These conver-
sations involved a range of gaming dialogue from upcoming titles, to purchasing
advice, to tutoring. Although this support focused on games, assisting each other
signified that group members were communal, unlike stereotypical gamers.
Indeed, mentoring is used by a multitude of groups to bolster shared identities
(e.g., Black college men, see Jackson 2012).
One way mentoring informally emerged was via gameplay advice. At one
event, Liam tutored Henry while he played Dragon Ball: Xenoverse. Henry asked
why he could not manage a particular attack and Liam responded: “it depends on
what specific combo you do because not every combo you launch [lets you] follow
up.” I benefited from this myself as various members taught me how to play
different games. During one event, Isabella illustrated the basics of Soul Caliber 4.
Indicating the corresponding controller inputs, she said: “This is how you guard.
If you do this while I attack, you…deflect it. This is kick. This is vertical moves.
This is horizontal moves. . .” Others taught technical techniques, such as Jacob
who explained combos in Super Smash Bros. PM during another event:
“a theoretical combo [is] jab, jab, up-tilt, up-smash, B-cancel before you leave the
ground, reset yourself at neutral on the ground and then start the combo again.”
The act of sharing game knowledge with other members signified their communal
orientation as group members helped one another improve. Rather than honing
their skills individually, group members trained one another, enacting the
communal orientation and distancing themselves from gamer stereotypes.
The Game Talk segment of weekly meetings allowed members to discuss
recent video game news. Members used this time to converse with one another
and signify communality by sharing useful gaming information with each other.
Chase, for example, mentioned “Evolve [is] full of DLC (downloadable content)
BS which is unfortunate” which initiated conversation about the game’s
“moneygrubbing” trends. During another meeting, the group watched a trailer
for the upcoming Persona 5 game and Jayden confessed, “So guys, I don’t know
what happened. I don’t play those games,” resulting in several members
providing background information and clarification. Although individual game
tastes differed, members who discussed gaming news reinforced their own
communal gamer identity and that of respondents, providing gamers opportu-
nities to bond with one another. Discussing gaming developments emphasized the
community’s exchanges and shared gaming experiences rather than focusing on
individuals’ isolated gameplay.
Game Talk segments also allowed group members to share personal gaming
experiences that would benefit fellow members. Liam, Jayden, Emma, and Ava
for instance discussed their trip to a gaming convention and described their
experiences talking with game developers and playing game demos. Others
responded with questions about these experiences, such as Oliver who asked
whether the developers of Hotline Miami 2 attended. Sharing knowledge and
experiences helped both the storytellers and their audience collectively enact
communality and subvert stereotypes.
Overall, group members coded communality into the group through their
various interactions. Group involvement was stressed as key to the group’s
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 63

identity to newcomers through introduction and membership rituals. Thereafter,

communality was emphasized through mutual assistance and mentoring fellow
group members formally and informally. This often occurred through feedback
and tutoring during events and informal hangouts, but also via regular Game
Talk sessions during meetings. These behaviors emerged as informal group
processes that reinforced the group’s emphasis on community. Most GC mem-
bers did not state joining explicitly for community but rather to find like-minded
others who also enjoyed gaming. The word “community” was rarely used to
describe the group and its goals – they instead understood GC as a friend group.
However, once a member, participants subtly learned the importance of com-
munality to the group and the practices required to maintain this focus. These
interactions provided GC members the opportunity to learn and enact commu-
nality by helping others or asking for help themselves.

Affirming Communality
Like collegiate knitters (Fields 2014) and rugby players (Ezzell 2009), Gaming
Council members affirmed one another to maintain their communal focus. In
addition to communicating behavioral expectations and the proper enactment of
the group’s identity codes, proper performances were rewarded. This was done
informally, through joking, and formally, via awards ceremonies. Affirming
communal behavior reinforced the inclusive gamer code as members continually
created opportunities for enacting, validating, and acknowledging communal
behavior (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996).

Joking
GC members employed game related joking to celebrate themselves as communal
gamers, collaboratively signifying “gamer” as a positive identity. Joking occurred
regularly during GC activities as members exchanged gaming humor, empha-
sizing their sociality. Through esoteric joking, group members used game specific
references to share a group “identity through cohesion” (Fine and De Soucey
2005:8). Rather than merely playing games, GC members enjoyed showcasing
their “gamer-ness” through communally appreciated references and humor.
By joking with fellow groupmates GC members engaged in fostering com-
munity. For example, before one meeting Liam drew a character on the white-
board that combined features of two game icons: Solid Snake of the Metal Gear
Solid franchise and Pac-Man of the Pac-Man franchise. He also drew a speech
bubble reading “nano-pellets” which referenced the nanomachines of the Metal
Gear Solid games and the power pellets in Pac-Man games. Upon entering the
room Sebastian noticed the drawing and inquired about it.
Sebastian: “Is that like Metal Gear Pac-Man?”
Liam: “Yeah”
Sebastian: “Nice”
Liam: “It’s Solid-Pac”
64 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

Sebastian erupted in laughter and was echoed by others in the room. By

drawing and incorporating references to two different games, Liam created a
gaming specific jocular exchange. Once Sebastian entered the room and
responded to the referential drawing, he engaged with Liam to affirm their
mutual communal gamer identities through his recognition of the references.
Additionally, this exchange occurred within the gaze of their peers who also
found it humorous. Not only was Liam able to make Sebastian laugh, but he
succeeded in amusing the others in the room who also understood the mixed
reference. Thus, Liam created an opportunity for enacting and validating his
communal gamer identity, simultaneously providing Sebastian and everyone else
in the room the same opportunity – affirming the communal gamer identity of
everyone involved through a shared joke.
Joking as a group enabled members to bond with one another and reaffirmed
the group’s emphasis on communality. During another meeting, Jayden
explained his experience with the Halo 5 beta and compared it to its predecessors.
Impressed with the combat systems, he joked that Halo 5 “evolved the combat,”
referencing the original game titled Halo: Combat Evolved. Laughter erupted as
the group recognized the connection. This reference, though showing Jayden’s
gaming knowledge, reinforced group solidarity rather than individual boasting.
Able to share in the group’s amusement, joking drew members together and
reaffirmed the group’s identity as positive, social gamers. During another
meeting, Liam had trouble recalling information about online multiplayer con-
nectivity – the ability to play online with others – for the Halo: Master Chief
Collection. Sebastian mentioned that it might be available “if you get the Season
Pass.” Season passes include downloadable content that are sold separately and
unlock add-ons for games such as extra levels, outfits, or other in-game benefits.
This joke employed the group’s joking culture (Fine and De Soucey 2005) and
understanding of core game functions (e.g., online multiplayer) becoming
increasingly sold separately. The group found this connection between suppos-
edly vital game mechanics and downloadable content humorous as Liam’s
contemplation was interrupted by the group’s laughter. Jokes relied on large, well
known games/experiences common to most gamers and were largely relatable
such that most GC members were included in these exchanges. Jokes were
directed toward fellow group members who noticed, appreciated, and laughed at
them. In doing so, group members were able to signify communality and received
affirmation through the group’s laughter. The communal gamer identities of the
jokers and audience were collectively reinforced as they shared jokes.
GC members frequently joked about various gaming topics. Like the scientific
joking found within National Weather Service offices, gaming jokes were a
central part of the GC’s subcultural identity work (Fine and De Soucey 2005:4).
Unlike stereotypically isolated gamers, GC members engaged with one another
using game-centered humor to foster community. In doing so, they signified that
they were well versed in gaming discourse but also sociable. In contrast to ste-
reotypes, joking allowed members to enjoy and revel in their shared communal
gamer identity.
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 65

Celebrating Members
In addition, the GC fostered group solidarity through member acknowledgments,
affirming each member’s contribution to the group and their status as communal
gamers. This process was more formal than joking and crystalized as two award
ceremonies: the Not-Oscars and the Superstars. Both ceremonies served to
congratulate GC members for their work within the group and to appreciate their
participation. In celebrating members, the group applauded communal gamers
and affirmed their identities. These ceremonies emphasized group members’
sociality rather than individual gaming accomplishments. Members were praised
for being social, signaling the importance of communality over gaming ability
(the emphasis of stereotypical gamers). I attended four ceremonies during my
fieldwork and each reaffirmed members’ belonging by highlighting proper or
unique performances of communality.
The Not-Oscars ceremony provided one opportunity to be recognized as
communal gamers. The ceremony, a joint function for all student groups within
the PRB, allowed members to nominate peers for various awards. A formal
award show mimicking the Oscars, students voted beforehand for whom should
win an award and results were publicly announced. During the GC segments of
the ceremony, members were presented with game referential awards. Elijah, for
example, was awarded the “Best Developer” award for being the most willing to
help organize events. Jacob received the “Waluigi” award for the most successful
or unsuccessful event idea and Oliver got the “What’re Ya Buyin’” award for
most likely to bring gaming equipment to events. Clear acknowledgments of their
dedication to the group, these awards recognized members’ commitment to the
GC and its community, signifying the importance of community to both gamer
and non-gamer others.
The Not-Oscars ceremony also allowed GC members to reflect on their
experiences in the group and narratively affirm their communal identity. At the
end of the ceremony, graduating members of the groups were given the oppor-
tunity to give a speech about their time with their group(s). They often high-
lighted interpersonal relationships built over their time with the group. Oliver, for
example, said “I’ve met so many great people that have been so kind and
accepting.” Charlotte shared her hesitance to move on: “I’m really, really sad
because I made a little home here.” Liam began with a few jokes but got
emotional. Teary eyed, he said:
Coming here and meeting all of y’all, meeting [GC] was really a turning point in my life… I met
Jayden, I met Jeremiah, you know, they really kept convincing me to just keep coming back. I
met Jacob, Elijah, all of y’all in [GC]… This place has just been amazing. I appreciate it. Sorry
for crying.

Wiping his eyes as he returned to his seat, Liam was greeted by a group hug
from Elijah, Oliver, Jayden, Emma, Jacob, and Aiden as well as one of the PRB’s
managers. Liam, through his emotional display, affirmed his attachment to
the community and the group responded by providing comfort, affirming their
communal identities as well. Each speech observed during my fieldwork emphasized
66 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

the group, highlighting group attachment and enjoyment of events, rather than
individual gaming achievements. For instance, Elijah echoed Liam’s sentiment of
how much the group “means to me,” instead of focusing on the Halo tournament
he had won earlier that semester.
The Superstars ceremony was a more casual recognition of each individual
GC member that occurred during the last meeting of the year, where every group
member was recognized and given a personalized certificate of appreciation – a
ritual that signified all members as part of their community. Described as more
“personal” than the Not-Oscars ceremony, group leaders distributed unique
certificates to everyone that referenced the members’ commitment to the group.
Levi, for instance, was awarded the Old School award, “for always being willing
to bring the SNES (Super Nintendo Entertainment System),” the most dated,
classic system at events. Chloe received the Road Warrior award “for traveling
the furthest distance for anything [GC] related,” referencing how far she traveled
to attend events since she lived far from campus. Wyatt was given the Hero of
Time award, “for defending [GC] in all its time of need” referencing Wyatt’s love
for the Legend of Zelda game series and also his long tenure as a GC member –
he was one of the inaugural members and has remained active with the group
despite having graduated and working full time. Charlotte received the Create-a-
Sim award, “for being exceptional help to everything we do through her crea-
tion,” referencing her favorite game and her help in creating promotional
materials. Affirming every individual GC member, this ceremony acknowledged
that all were appreciated and recognized their enactment of communality.
Almost all Superstar awards affirmed explicitly the recipient’s communal
activity within the group. However, a few members received slightly more
independent awards. For instance, Jacob received the Dancer award, “for always
being ready to throw down the mat and dance” and Chase received the Solid Butt
award, “for being the stealthiest [GC] member.” At first, these appear to be
individual awards with no relation to the group. However, Jacob and Chase’s
awards reference their presence in the GC, affirming their communal gamer
identity as well. Jacob is known as an avid Dance, Dance, Revolution fan
throughout the GC and his award affirms his inclusion in the group by drawing
on this knowledge – a mat is required to play. Similarly, though Chase is
“stealthy,” the award invokes his love of the Metal Gear Solid series and the
protagonist’s well-known avatar to link him back to the group. In both cases,
other members clapped and laughed at the references, showing their under-
standing of the awards, again affirming the communality of everyone involved.
As group members joked and celebrated together, GC members reinforced
their communal gamer identity. Jokes were used to strengthen bonds between
members as they amused each other with gaming quips and shared laughter,
simultaneously acknowledging one another’s communality. Consistent with prior
research, GC members developed a joking culture that was employed to foster
group cohesion while affirming group members’ insider status (Fine and De
Soucey 2005). More formally, award ceremonies applauded individuals who
enacted the communal gamer identity properly and enabled others to do the
same. Ceremonies highlighted the importance of communality to other GC
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 67

members, but also to non-gamers. This recognized members’ efforts and vali-
dated their non-stereotypical gamer identity. By first orienting newcomers to the
group’s communal code then providing opportunities and rewarding successful
communal actions, the GC constructs “gamer” as communal rather than indi-
vidual as gaming scholars have done so far (e.g., Shaw 2012). These collaborative
processes fostered further bonding in the group, bringing the otherwise
“ephemeral notion” of group identity into existence (Schwalbe and Mason-
Schrock 1996:123).

Policing Noncommunal Gamers

As with every group, insiders may occasionally threaten the validity of the
group’s identity construction. Policing is a process through which groups deal
with members who do not behave according to group norms (Schwalbe et al.
2000). In the present case certain group members or event attendees contradicted
the Gaming Council’s communal focus. In these instances, group members
policed offenders so that they behaved according to subcultural codes and in
extreme cases, removed individuals that threatened the communal gaming envi-
ronment. Previous studies stress that policing helps dominant groups maintain
power over subordinates either through direct interaction (Hazel 2015) or inter-
action among subordinates (Nguyen 2016). Within the GC, however, policing
efforts were informally distributed throughout the group to protect the communal
gamer identity. Policing took two forms: gossiping and calling out noncommunal
gamers.

Gossiping
One way GC members engaged in policing was to gossip about members who did
not act communally, reminding others of group expectations and rules after
someone broke convention. Rather than confront individuals, group members
noted the wrongdoing and discussed it later. In doing so, group members branded
the target as stereotypically individualistic, reminding members of the code. This
is reminiscent of adolescent girls gossiping about others to reinforce conventions
regarding romantic love (Simon et al. 1992). By pointing out infractions and
discussing (in)appropriate behaviors, group members protected the communal
gamer code and the group’s integrity.
Stereotypical actions which threatened the group’s communal identity were
also policed. During one post-meeting Pizza Palace visit, group members dis-
cussed sexist speech in greater gaming culture. Liam angrily stated, “when I hear
that [sexist] shit at the [events] I don’t tolerate it. I told Jaxon to shut the fuck up
so many times.” Theodore replied, “Oh fuck Jaxon” and Carter added “I hate
Jaxon. Yeah, fuck Jaxon. Jaxon ruins everybody’s image.” These three collec-
tively smeared Jaxon as sexist, painting his behavior as noncommunal and
unacceptable. They distanced themselves from the noncommunal gamer by
expressing their revulsion at Jaxon’s actions, showing others their latent under-
standing that sexism is incompatible with their oppositional identity.
68 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

The communal gamer identity was also preserved by policing gamers for being
social isolates or being socially inept. For example, during the car ride to Carter’s
house for a post-event gathering, Jacob complained about Caleb explaining, “he
got a little loud today” and disrupted the event earlier. Later that night, Josiah
described how overinvested William was, stating, “I was playing [Mortal Kombat
10] for fun but [William] was looking at the moves list in depth and I was like,
‘It’s not about that right now dude…’” In other words, Josiah focused on
enjoyment whereas William prioritized playing the game well – a characteristic of
stereotypical gamers. Similarly, Carter referenced Levi’s overactive tendencies
and said, “Don’t Levi out on us” when Oliver became upset at losing a game.
Oliver responded, “I’m not pissed enough that I’m going to punch myself and
cry,” referencing Levi’s earlier tantrum. This interaction shows that both
recognized Levi’s stereotypical behavior (competitiveness to the point of violence
and lacking self-control) as misaligned with the group’s communal identity code.
Similar to how men in a therapeutic community used homophobic rhetoric to
highlight “inappropriate” feminine gender performances (Ezzell 2012), gamers
policed those who strayed from the communal gamer identity. However, GC
members used gossiping to orient themselves and fellow gamers to the communal
code at the expense of those who violated the group identity code, sometimes
priming group members to call out these individuals’ actions. GC members
collectively policed deviants, reinforcing stereotypical behaviors as unwelcome
while simultaneously signifying themselves as communal.

Calling Out Nonconformists

GC members called out gamers who broke the communal gamer code.
Nonconformist gamers included those who were sexist, overly rambunctious, and
individualistic – clearly different than the calm, inclusive and communal focus of
GC. Group members intervened when violators disrupted group events. Their
policing often took the form of reprimands or stern warnings, although group
leaders pressured more disorderly nonconformists to leave events. In doing so,
group members protected the communal gaming environment by correcting
noncommunal behavior or ejecting nonconformists. This protected group mem-
bers’ oppositional identity by maintaining communality, reinforcing the unac-
ceptableness of stereotypical gaming.
Group members directly policed noncommunal gamers to discourage future
misbehavior. At one event, two attendees were loudly yelling at the television
after an upsetting defeat. “Are you kidding me!?” “Are you serious!?” This yelling
was clearly disturbing other event attendees, who looked on in exasperation.
Noticing this, Liam asked the rowdy pair to quiet down, which they did for a few
minutes. When they later resumed their bellowing, Lucas approached them and
requested they quiet down. They seemed to understand and kept relatively under
control the rest of the evening. Liam and Lucas policed their fellow gamers to
maintain a community environment for other gamers to enjoy themselves.
However, sometimes event attendees were more destructive than simple
overexcitement. Caleb, during another event, slammed his sunglasses onto the
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 69

table in frustration after losing a match. Liam responded, “Hey! Yo, if you’re not
going to relax you need to step away” and guided him away from the gaming
area. Wyatt recalled a similar incident with Levi during his interview:
He gets visibly angry, he gets frustrated and he has accidentally messed up one of the
keyboards. And I’ve even had to get onto him because… he started to get agitated. I was
like ‘Levi, don’t. Don’t. Because that Wii remote is already acting weird and I don’t want to
spend forty dollars to replace it.’

Wyatt also mentioned another instance when he reprimanded the “[fighting

game] guys” stating “Hey, calm down. Don’t break the controllers” (emphasis in
original). Inappropriate behaviors, especially physical disturbances, were imme-
diately policed and signified to members the GC’s expectation of civility,
distancing themselves from stereotypes of violent gamers.
The most severe form of policing, removal, was reserved for disturbances that
prevented communal interaction. Throughout my fieldwork I only observed this
once. This occurred during the Halo tournament, which comprised of four tele-
visions reserved for tournament matches and two consoles connected to pro-
jectors that were open for everyone to play. One individual, who was eliminated
from the tournament early on, monopolized a projector in his attempt to play the
single-player campaign mode. Although Jayden and Elijah told him throughout
the five-hour event that playing solo was prohibited at this multiplayer venue, he
continued to disregard their warnings. Eventually, Jayden asked him to leave.
When later asked why, Jayden stated exasperatedly that he “was just being
uncooperative… He kept hitting the campaign button and I was like, ‘We’re not
doing campaign [single-player] here.’” Such nonconformity denied others the
chance to engage in communal gaming. Jayden’s policing not only reinforced the
communal identity code but created opportunities for others to engage in group
identity work: after the attendee left, four others stepped in to play in a more
collaborative fashion.
Ironically, policing nonconforming gamers enabled GC members to preserve
the group’s communality by protecting themselves from stereotypical behaviors
including sexism or rambunctious yelling. As group members policed non-
communal gamers they signified themselves as communal, while also highlighting
expected and unacceptable behaviors. Unlike previous conceptualizations of
policing, the current data show that gossiping is a subprocess of policing that is
just as important to identity constructions as the more overt forms of policing,
such as calling out nonconformists. Overall, policing enabled the maintenance of
communality and inclusivity, and preserved the communal gamer identity.

CONCLUSION
Stereotypes of gamers as socially inept “nerds” (Kowert et al. 2012) posed an
identity dilemma for gamers as the pastime that brought them joy culturally
branded them as deviants (Shaw 2012). However, gamers engaged in group identity
work in response to stigma, transcending discreditable notions of “gamer” and
70 BERTAN BUYUKOZTURK

resolving identity dilemmas – at least for themselves. As I have explained, these

processes were group efforts that individuals created, taught, and performed
together. Collaborative coding rituals connected GC members with one another
and introduced initiates to the communal identity code. This identity was
affirmed through membership requirements and recognition and preserved as
members policed noncommunal gamers to correct stereotypical behavior. Similar
to how UP members created “brotherhood” to validate “stereotypically feminine
acts” of sharing emotions as masculine (Jackson 2012:63), GC members recon-
structed the stereotypically anti-social act of gaming as communal.
Following Dunn and Creek’s (2015:279) suggestion to examine groups where
“dilemmas no longer constrain people,” I investigated how GC members
collaboratively constructed shared senses of worthiness and bonding that
opposed stereotypes. Interestingly, I found GC members maintained their
oppositional identity through in-group processes rather than coming “into sync”
with changing cultural systems as Dunn and Creek (2015) speculated. Future
identity scholarship may consider exploring group identity construction, how
identity is projected outwardly, and how it varies between discredited and
discreditable groups.
While several works examine the nuance between gaming groups and some
question the usefulness of a unified “gaming culture” (Shaw 2010), my work
hinges on the everyday interaction of GC members. Rather than imposing a
“gamer culture” on individuals, studies of gaming communities should emphasize
group interaction and how these behaviors constitute and/or reinforce shared
subcultural and identity meanings. Examining online gaming exchanges, for
instance, may evidence a shared system of meanings distinct from that of GC or
other groups. These meanings may be further influenced by the technology – such
as headsets, forums, text boxes – (e.g., Buyukozturk et al. 2018) and game
context – fan communities, guilds, competitions – they occur in. The GC’s
formal connection to a university provided resources (e.g., funding/venue) and
likely promoted a more inclusive focus. Without structural incentives, gamers
may form unique group processes promoting different identities and values.
Though some scholars examine identity work in group settings (e.g., Fields
2014), much work focuses on interview data and individual identity work.
Interviews produce accounts and, while useful, necessarily overlook the intri-
cacies of group life noticeable through participant observation. I emphasize these
in-the-moment group behaviors through which participants maintained a shared
identity and argue that similar efforts will bolster the identity work literature.
Group identity work considerations are key to understanding how identity is at
times a group achievement dependent upon “the work people do together to
create the signs, codes, and rites of affirmation that become shared resources for
identity-making” (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996:121). Reincorporating
ethnographic observations of group interaction can facilitate more holistic
understandings of identity work and facilitate theory development (Snow et al.
2003).
While I only examine the identity work of one group, the six general sub-
processes outlined here – orienting newcomers, mentoring, joking, celebrating
Constructing Communal Gamers: Gamers’ Group Identity Work 71

members, gossiping, and calling out nonconformists – may be vital across sub-
cultures as symbolic understandings of identity are crafted through group inter-
action (Schwalbe et al. 2000). I have argued that Gaming Council members
collaboratively maintained a communal gamer identity oppositional to oppres-
sive stereotypes perpetuated by the mainstream and experienced as identity
dilemmas. The GC’s identity work did not impact larger cultural meanings but
alleviated perceived stigmas and empowered members to maintain a moral
identity. Future research may wish to examine how changes in one’s group
identity influences their (sub)cultural position and vice versa.

NOTES
1. I discuss these processes in turn but echo Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock’s (1996)
understanding that there is no inherent temporal arrangement of these steps and some,
particularly policing, may occur simultaneously.
2. Presented names are pseudonyms.
3. With permission.
4. Sociologists have conceptualized communities in a variety of ways, emphasizing
shared meanings (Fine and Kleinman 1979) and symbolic boundaries (Crow and Laidlaw
2019) in various physical and digital contexts (Simons 2019). Although I use “commu-
nality” to capture the GC’s focus on inclusivity, I emphasize group processes of identity
construction rather than the group’s definition of “community.”

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