I’ve been a gamer since 1991, when my parents bought my brother and me a Super Nintendo for Christmas. In other words, I’ve been a “gamer” for longer than many of the so-called “games journalists” today have been alive. I’m a woman, and I have never really liked my peers: girls can be catty, mean, back-stabbing, and socially cruel. So naturally some of my closest friends growing up were boys. We played SNES at my house and Sega or PS1 at their houses. We played street hockey on rollerblades and built tree forts in the woods. I didn’t demand my male friends play with my Barbies–I appreciated the opportunity to play their games by their rules. This is a fundamental principle that the current generation doesn’t seem to understand. When you join someone in their world, going in with an agenda to change it is only going to win you enemies.
A screenshot from Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War II: Retribution (2011), Relic Entertainment
So when I read Abigail Shannon’s article about her first encounter with a Games Workshop employee, and her subsequent thoughts on the 40k fandom and men in general, my reaction was anger and disbelief. I grew up in the wild west of the early internet, so maybe I developed a thicker skin than most. The internet can be a toxic place, and sometimes, like in the real world, a jerk is just a jerk. But even so, I know better than to let one or two bad encounters shape my impression of gamers–or men–as a whole.
Her article reads like a revenge narrative: “I was wronged ten years ago, so now I’m going to use my platform to tarnish something that employee was trying to gatekeep.” Did she ever stop to consider why people gatekeep? Did she ever consider that she might be the problem? The answer of course, is no. She is a “journalist” so we are all supposed to believe that her one bad encounter represents the whole of the 40K community and men in general, ergo women should join the effort to infiltrate Warhammer and herald in equity and diversity. Excuse me while I go vomit.
A screenshot from Warhammer: End Times – Vermintide (2015), Fatshark
I cannot keep quiet on this. I would like to offer my experience as a female gamer with my first time ever walking into a classic tabletop nerd store as a counterpoint to Abigail’s experience. I want to prove that there are women like me who understand the value of adapting oneself to belong to a group rather than demanding a group adapt to conform to you.
I’m of the old-school belief that when you travel to a foreign country, you don’t walk around demanding people speak your language. Instead, you buy a phrase book and you stumble through trying to communicate with people in their language, in their country.
An image of the XV Legion from Warhammer 40,000
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My first experience with tabletop Warhammer happened about 10 years ago–in 2013 in a small midwestern town. My husband and I were new to the area and exploring the historic Old Town on our bikes. We both play Warhammer games on PC (Vermintide, Space Marine, Dawn of War, etc) so when we saw a Necron in the window of a shop, we parked our bikes and walked in to have a look around. I had never heard of tabletop Warhammer, but my husband had, so we didn’t need the clerk to come explain things to us. I leafed through the books and checked out the different armies, and as we were browsing, a group of men carrying giant tote bags and suitcases entered the store and went to the basement. The clerk told us they were regulars who played on the tables downstairs. We were welcome to go check it out. So we did.
A screenshot from Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine – Anniversary Edition (2011), Relic Entertainment
The guys in the basement were your typical nerds–meaning nothing at all. One guy was huge–at least 6’4” with long hair, arms covered in tattoos, and wearing a Metallica t-shirt. There was a heavy set guy wearing a Star Wars shirt (I remember because I commented on both shirts), there were a few athletic guys, a short guy who was the epitome of a D&D DM, and one, very thin guy who was setting up a perfectly painted set of Space Wolves. D&D and Metallica were both excited to tell us about their hobby and walk us around the room to see all the armies and explain how they were setting up to fight. The athletic guys greeted us and went about their game. The guy with the Wolves was wringing his hands and pacing in a corner. I stupidly walked up to him and asked if I could look at his army. He waved a hand at his set and mumbled something that I didn’t quite catch. Metallica stepped in and handed me a few of the intricately-painted pieces to examine. I asked a few questions about how he accomplished such a high level of detail and was surprised that Metallica was answering for the thin guy. It was at that moment that I realized I was missing a subtle subtext.
Space Marine units from Warhammer 40,000
The thin guy was anxious–that was clear. But that’s when it dawned on me that I was the only woman in the room. It didn’t matter that I was married–he was clearly anxious about my attention and proximity–whether it was because I was a woman or maybe something else–I’m not going to make too many wild assumptions. Maybe my deodorant had worn off? Either way, Metallica was showing a great deal of compassion by stepping between us and playing interface because I was too stupid to realize that I was making someone uncomfortable. Metallica was protecting his friend.
I think that’s when my husband also realized something was afoot, because he took the figurines from me and asked the thin guy about the strategy he favored when playing against different opponents. I went with Metallica and D&D to another table and they asked me what my favorite army was. So I sat down and got into the nitty gritty about the Tau (nobody liked my army and I was quickly the butt of jokes about space communists), and the other guys put the thin guy at ease and I watched as he relaxed and set up his army, excitedly explaining the details of his play style to my husband. That basement was his space and he deserved to feel comfortable in it. That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t welcome there–I was–but I had to give him time, not the other way around.
A screenshot from Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War – Dark Crusade (2006), Relic Entertainment
I was the tourist, the foreigner, the unknown entity in that first foray. Thankfully I have spent enough time around guys and gamers that I didn’t make a total ass of myself (I like to believe that, anyway). I didn’t waltz into that basement and demand attention or ask where all the women were. I didn’t get offended that nobody was playing Sisters of Battle. I appreciated the wealth of knowledge and the fact that there were very friendly guys who were willing to explain the game to an interested listener. I ended up buying a Tau army, paints, and a codex, and we went back to the shop several times after that. We were always greeted, welcomed, and encouraged to learn about the ins and outs of tabletop gaming.
I’m not an influential person. I’m not a journalist or a YouTuber, I’m not on Facebook, Instagram, or X. I’m not an investor–heck, I’m not even really a tabletop Gamer. But I am a wife, a mother, and a sister. The men in my life have spaces and hobbies that are important to them, and I would rather fight shoulder-to-shoulder with them to protect their spaces than be a part of the ideological horde that is not only invading their space, but demanding that they conform to its foreign languages and customs. This is wrong, and I want all my male gamer friends to know that this space communist stands with you. Kroot and Tau stand as one.
NEXT: Games Workshop CFO Sells Two-Thirds Of Her Shares Amid Growing Warhammer Boycott
