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As someone who has hosted open-to-public game nights for years and worked at a FLGS, I have feelings about this article. Article is REQUIRED READING before you read my rambling. https://girlsgameshelf.com/2020/06/the-first-step-toward-change/
If you've been gaming for a long time, maybe you've forgotten what how intimidating and unwelcoming gaming spaces can be to new people.
I try not to forget the fact that the first several times I came into my FLGS (where I now work) to play games, I hid in the merchandise aisles and left without asking if I could join any games. This was probably 8 or 9 years ago.
What stands out most in my memory is the sound of so many (loud) male voices in one space. I felt very self-conscious just being in a space where I didn't see myself reflected.
I vividly remember the first time I actually played games at my FLGS, because boy, did it suck. I arranged to meet two friends, but one arrived early and was already attracting attention. She was an actress so she kind of thrived on the attention, but I ain't want it.
By the end of the night two typical board gamer stereotypes had joined the table. I had a migraine and I made no effort to be sociable or nice. If anything, I was intentionally cold and distant. I didn't join in when people wanted to play Superfight because why would anyone?
Honestly, if I'd met me that night, I would've wanted nothing to do with me. So I was surprised to get Facebook friend requests the next day. I guess the two dudes drew straws to see who got dibs on the outgoing redhead, because one dude immediately started messaging my friend
and the loser began persistently asking me out for coffee. I can 100% confidently say I displayed 0 qualities to warrant interest, other than having a pulse and being female. I knew it was a mistake to play w/randos. The entire experience made me reluctant to return.
But obviously I did return. Eventually I was lured back to game night by the game demos the store advertised and provided. Knowing ahead of time that there was a set game I could join with other newer players appealed to me. I could watch how-to-play videos ahead of time.
I'd absorb maybe 3% of the gameplay from watching videos because I just don't learn that way, but helped my anxiety to have a general idea of what to expect. It's easy to forget how anxious a new player can feel about appearing "stupid" to experienced gamers, but that was
a factor. I didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to talk down to me. The employee demoing the games each week was an extremely welcoming and patient woman. I don't think she does the Twitter much but she deserves a shout out regardless. @S_O_C_M_O_M
2nd shout out to my friend Jim, who I met separately at a game night at a bar. He provided a group for me to play with where the guys weren't creeps. Certainly there were creeps at the bar's game night, but there were social repercussions & they didn't find a place at his table.
(He definitely doesn't do Twitter, but I also want to comment on how funny it is that these two people--who were both providing me a welcoming space to game during my fragile n00b stage--would eventually meet and start a podcast together, because of course they would.)
I think I'mma get to a point eventually. Don't lose faith. Maybe it's that every time someone new comes to a public gaming space, they are rolling the dice, they are taking a risk. Maybe they'll luck out and find a Sarah or a Jim, or maybe every anxiety they had will be validated
When I say I miss teaching games, I think what I actually miss is being in a position to recognize when that person hiding behind the RPG shelf actually came to play the board games but lost their nerve and now just needs to be invited.
I have literally stopped people walking out the door when they saw that a game demo was full, not because they were hellbent to play a specific game, but because they needed a seat at the table.
It's not unwarranted anxieties. Y'all board gamers cliquey af. I've pushed hard to get new players acclimated in spaces where for the most part people have already decided which games they are playing that night and with which people.
Here's another fun game store experience from Jan 4, 2017--I know because I started obsessively tracking all of my game plays--when I decided to try going to a game night at a different store: I walk into the store. The guy working there is unoccupied, but says nothing to me.
I walk to the gaming tables. It's packed. All guys. There are only two empty seats and there's a jacket draped over each of them and someone's stuff on the table in front of them. I stand watching a game till the anxiety overwhelms me and I go back outside to wait for my friend.
(Again I walk by the guy behind the counter who again does not acknowledge my existence.) When my friend arrives (a dude), I walk in behind him. The guy at the counter greets him hello. We walk to the gaming tables.
Within seconds the owners of the chair-jackets announced themselves. They'd just moved two seats down and forgotten that all of their stuff was occupying space, I guess. Quickly they made space. Me? Female, invisible. Friend? Male, visible. I'm sure it was just a coincidence.
Small things, really, but it struck a nerve. I thought I was past feeling out of place in gaming spaces. So it's not *just* a new-to-board-gaming feeling, then. 
Anyway, that's more than I intended to say.
When I walk into my FLGS now I feel pretty entitled. I know I belong. More people should feel that way and all of the time.
When I walk into my FLGS now I feel pretty entitled. I know I belong. More people should feel that way and all of the time.
