Life Is Strange, as a series, is really characterised by a patented mix of earnestness and cringe for me – but you can’t fault its determination to put queer characters front and centre. It has been variably successful at this – the messy relationship between shy, photography-obsessed Max and chaotic blue-haired Chloe in 2015’s original Life Is Strange was left somewhat ambiguous, but Alex Chen in Life Is Strange: True Colors was openly bi and pretty laidback about it. My favourite queer moment from the series, though, came in last year’s Double Exposure.
Max Caulfield is now a grownup with a photography residency at a small-town college, and has finally figured herself out. She flirts confidently with Vince, the handsome butterribleit-boy on campus. But when it comes to Amanda, the exceedingly cool lesbian behind the bar at the local pub? She is so awkward it’s painful. I loved this because it is my firm personal belief thatallbisexual people are both terrified by and attracted to cool lesbians. If you get to the point when you take Amanda on a date, you are treated to one of the sweetest scenes I’ve ever seen in a game: they go to an imaginary gig. The women riff off each other, conjuring the most chaotic show imaginable with words and laughter. It is, along withNathan Drake and Elena playing Crash Bandicoot togetherin Uncharted 4, the most believable relationship scene in games. (And yes, even after the date goes really well, Max still hesitates over kissing her.)Keza MacDonald, the Guardian’s video games editor
It has to be the relationship between Ellie and Dina in The Last of Us Part II. I know this one gets a lot of attention, but it’s for good reason. There are so few queer stories in media that don’t revolve around traumatic experiences. Acknowledging the struggles of any marginalised group is vital to sharing that perspective – but so is highlighting the joy. I think it’s incredible that, in a game that deals with such heavy themes and tragic character development, these two were allowed to experience a joyful, supportive relationship. They could be people with flaws who made choices, instead of being defined solely by their queerness. The evolution of the narrative and eventual conflict between them was the result of Ellie’s choices and actions – which made the story that much more impactful to me.Amanda Hufford, producer of (and voice of Ducky in)Date Everything!, out now
When I was a teenager,I came across this game called Fable.I played through the tutorial.I wanted to spice it up.I used a cheat engine.I made my character really buff.
It felt a little … wrong.Not because I cheated.But because I didn’t look like that.
Does this character still represent me?Am I allowed to do this?> Don’t know.
I got to the first town.I came across a merchant.I bought out everything he had.I regifted everything back to him.
I saw a heart begin to form.Can I … really do this?> Guess so.
I gave him the wedding ring.We got gay-married.We moved into this house I bought.And then I never touched the game again.
–
I was a closeted teenager.Everyone around me knew.Everyone but me of course.
I was a chubby little kid.Everyone around me knew.And everyone kept reminding me.
I can’t help but laugh.Guilty for being swole in-game.But never for being gay-married.Funny how a teenage mind works.Tanat Boozayaangool of Tan Ant Games, developer ofBuilding Relationships, out later this year
My love for queer games exists at two ends of a spectrum. At one end is “beautifully done nuance and subtlety” and at the other is “delightful, wilful chaos”. This feels in keeping with being a gender-wobbly bisexual.
In the realm of nuance and subtlety, my earliest love was playingGone Home, and the slow discovery of your sister Sam’s queerness, and the catharsis of her getting to live her life authentically after rejection by her parents. Then there wasUnpacking, about making space for a new partner after the nightmare that was trying to fit your things around a boyfriend who wouldn’t budge. Or most recently, there was the (spoiler alert) very natural growth of Henry and Hans’s relationship inKingdom Come: Deliverance II, which has to be one of the most beautifully written romances in games in years.
Of course, on the other side of the coin is mischief and honesty. Thirsty Suitors captures the messiness and interconnectedness of queer dating, and the fallout that can occur when someone is still figuring themselves out. When it comes to my own game, Crescent County, we absolutely come down on the side of chaos. There is often pressure to perform “perfect” queer representation, but that robs characters of their bite and humanity. I completely understand the draw of pure wholesomeness, but we shouldn’t sanitise ourselves for the sake of acceptability!Anna Hollinrake, creative director ofCrescent County, out next year
The thing about a lot of queer moments in the video game era I grew up in – which my child loves to refer to as “the late 1900s” (my bones aredust) – is that it was the villains who were queer coded. Wholesome queer moments were as rare as a writer who can come up with a new and original “as rare as” simile.
That’s why I loved Unpacking so much. On the face of it, the game is simply about unpacking your belongings as you move from place to place, but it’s a masterpiece of show-not-tell. You move out of your parents’ house, get room-mates, and eventually move in with your boyfriend, who immediately minimises your space and self expression. At that point I yelled to my wife “SHE’S GAY!” But I often do that with characters I like, so she took no note. However,I was right.As the game progresses she meets a new partner, grows closer to them, and eventually they have a child together and you’re unpacking the baby’s bedroom. It finishes with the most wholesome lesbian representation I’ve ever seen in a video game.NikkiJay, creator ofQuantum Witch, out now