People who play video games have the privilege of having the most blatantly corrupt, nepotistic and downright condescending journalists possible covering their hobby. This has never been clearer than it is now in the wake of a movement called #GamerGate.
The roots of #GamerGate can be found in the hilariously contemptible behavior of a certain independent game developer, Zoe Quinn. An extensively evidenced post by her ex-boyfriend with screen captures of months worth of their conversations revealed that Zoe, a developer, had cheated on her ex with at least five different games journalists in the industry who work for outlets like Polygon and Kotaku. One of these men was her boss at the time, and several of those journalists gave positive coverage to the game she was developing. This post and all the enclosed evidence is readable at thezoepost.wordpress.com.
When news of what Zoe had done went public, she began a coordinated effort to silence all online discussion about her transgressions. She filed false DMCA notices on Youtube against videos critical of her and she had moderator friends on sites like Reddit take down dissenting posts.
She even faked several cyber attacks against herself, and some of her friends joined in, accusing 4chan and Anonymous of conducting hacks they very clearly did not perpetrate to garner sympathy and attention. That the attacks were falsified is clear as crystal, and I encourage all of you to read the evidence for yourself. An anonymous poster online has compiled all known information about the issue into a document on pastebin (http://pastebin.com/ECUpVG5R).
As the scandal continued to explode, Zoe’s friends and lovers at gaming journalism sites began to paint a narrative so far divorced from the truth to be laughable. They tried to portray Zoe Quinn as an oppressed heroine, subject to completely unjustified and “misogynistic” attacks against her character solely because she was a woman—never mind journalists and developers literally being in bed together, never mind the blatant breach of journalistic ethics on the part of these companies and writers. Clearly the whole thing is just misogynistic basement dwellers releasing pent up rage toward women.
The public didn’t buy this, and the pressure for a more transparent and ethical games journalism continued to grow. But the corrupt games journalism cabal had one last trump card up its sleeve.
In a forty-eight hour window around August 28, over a dozen articles from sites like Kotaku released nearly identical articles all arguing the same sensational and blatantly incorrect point: “Gamers are over.” “Gamers are dead.” The journalists whose job it is to cover gaming and issues relevant to gamers decided to declare “the death of an identity,” and from the sheer volume of identical articles released within such a time frame it’s clear they were conspiring to do this all at once.
Can you imagine The Greyhound publishing an article like: “Greyhounds are dead, Loyola is over?” Give me a break.
Thankfully, their smear campaign didn’t work. Apparently, telling your entire readership that they’re worthless and irrelevant isn’t the best career move. #GamerGate started on Twitter shortly after, and hundreds of thousands of people have been unrelentingly holding these corrupt journalists to task.
So far, it has yielded results, despite what people who call it a “troll campaign” would have you believe. Kotaku has implemented a policy where personal relationships between writers and subjects must be disclosed, as well as any financial relationship via Patreon or Kickstarter donations. Yeah, it seems like that should be the baseline for integrity, but until now it wasn’t the norm.
There’s not enough space to cover all #GamerGate’s subtleties, but the bottom line  is this: For gamers who’ve been irritated for years by the encroachment of social justice pandering, nepotism and dishonesty in games journalism, #GamerGate has been very effective, and supremely cathartic.