Sunday, 19 April 2015
(SATIRE) London Gamergaters forced a sea lion to play Mario Kart
This gross misrepresentation of what occurred that night will come as no surprise to those of us whose allegiance to the much maligned Gamergate movement has forever compromised the likelihood of us joining allegedly more moderate (according to Twitter) groups such as ISIS, the KKK, and the 1930s Nazi party.
For the record, nobody painted the sea lion. The purple and green stripes were a fortuitous natural occurrence – the result of the stripy, similarly hued crabs that form the bulk of the animal's diet.
London Gamergaters forced a sea lion to play Mario Kart
By Ghazi reporter
They had travelled to the secret location from all over the UK: Angry, overweight, disenfranchised white men who revel in titles such as “Shitlord”. Their pock-marked skin bleached to a pale and pasty corpse-like pallor from cloistered subterranean existences eked-out in sunless basements. Their fingers stained bright orange with Doritos seasoning. Their-vice like handshakes honed through a punishing hourly regime of unfettered wanking. Their voices thin from under use, or strained from yelling sexually and racially-charged insults across the unfathomable reaches of the internet during 16 hour Call of Duty sessions. Some bore crude, home-made tattoos indicating the number of women they had driven out of videogaming.
On the Northern Line this reporter encountered a 'gater' who identified himself as “Penislife”. I nodded and feigned interest as he described to me the recent adductor extension surgery that allows him to man-spread an additional eight inches (“Done on the fucking NHS mate, didn't pay a fucking penny”). He demonstrated the enhanced reach of his new thigh-span, extending his yawning tracksuit-clad crotch across the two seats on either side of him, unleashing the potent bouquet of Lynx Sports Blast. This flagrant display of testicular bulges was so forthright and unapologetic in its leering masculinity that a number of passengers seated nearby felt compelled to get up and stand by the door.
“I'm the number one shitlord in the E14 postcode area, mate. I'm number three shitlord in the whole of London. You write that down. You write that down on your fucking little note pad.”
The drinking establishment that played host to the Gamergate contingent had been informed that they would be hosting a gathering of marine sea life enthusiasts, with bar staff unaware that they were in fact serving drinks to a terrorist organisation described on Twitter as being worst than ISIS.
Upon entering, this reporter was reminded by the organisers to brazenly flaunt his privilege and to make full use of his male gaze. At a rowdy table in one corner I witnessed a card game in progress in which the four queens had been removed from the deck. I was told by one player that the Queen cards had been holding back the development of poker for decades and that the introduction of the Queen into chess was the result of a successful Social Justice conspiracy dating back to the 15th century.
Circulating among the boorish crowds of impotent, neck-bearded perma-virgins, were a number of so called 'bitch-gaters', who had been judged subservient and dressed-up in cheap red wigs in a crude approximation of the Gamergate mascot, Vivian James. They dispensed pitchers of a salty cocktail christened Mysogginees, after the similarly-named Greek island, and blended from ingredients that are designed to inflame the sex drive while increasing the physical repellence and obnoxious behaviour of the drinker.
Proceedings opened formally with the gamergate anthem: A crudely-penned rap so lamentable in both rhyme and scansion that its performance in public is categorised as a hate crime under UK law. It opens with the lines:
“We tell the world that it's all about ethics in gaming
Really its about the female gamers and developers who we be shaming”.
New recruits to the movement (described disparagingly as “Piss babies” were lined-up in front of a PS2. Under the withering sardonic gaze of the journalist, Milo Yiannopoulos - a platinum blonde negative image of Oscar Wilde, his upper lip contorted into a contemptuous sneer - they were instructed to demonstrate their commitment to misogyny by repeatedly walking the Tomb Raider heroine, Lara Croft, off a high ledge, causing her to plummet to her death with a brief high-pitched scream, that was followed a split second later by a sickening thud.
The experience proved too much for one aspiring novice who was roughly led away sobbing. A man matching his description was found in nearby Camden the following morning, chained naked to a Boris Bike rack. A Panzer Dragoon games cartridge for the Sega Saturn that had been crammed between his buttocks was removed by the fire brigade and later sold on Ebay.
The main entertainment for the evening was an appearance by the Gamergate sea lion which had been stored for several hours in a cubicle in the gentlemen's toilets. The lumbering sea beast, crudely daubed with green and purple stripes, was led to an inflatable paddling pool in the centre of the bar area, where it was forced to play the rainbow road level on Mario Kart. Gamergaters shouted out hoots of derision as the terrified and disorientated sea mammal struggled to comprehend the concept of competitive videogaming and failed spectacularly to interface its flippers with the nuanced controls of a Nintendo game pad.
One note of cautious optimism for those of us who have battled the malignant social tumour that is Gamergate these past eight months, came in the form of a fixer from Gamergate HQ in the US, who unwittingly revealed the foundering state of the movement. In an extraordinary tirade lasting 15 minutes, the Executive Hatelord berated the London contingent for failing to meet net harassment quotas in the final quarter of 2013/14. The speech concluded with him brandishing a pile of papers which he claimed were new leads providing the details of women who needed to be hounded out of videogaming. He added: “These leads aren't for you because these leads would be wasted on you. These leads are for closers.”
Following this dressing-down one middle-aged gater confided in me:
“I thought for a moment that I was going to get fired from Gamergate. Starting Monday I'm going to get into the office an hour early so I can get a head start on my colleagues. Mark my words, redundancies are on the way my friend. I just need to run faster than everybody else and I'll be okay.”
The battle against Gamergate continues...