Game Studies

“Hook me, Daddy”: Queer Semiotics of Dead by Daylight through Gaymers on Twitch

Abstract

As the field of queer game studies is relatively new, there are still gaps in academic research looking into LGBTQ gamers. Particularly, there is not much work reviewing the concepts of queer performativity as it relates to video streaming on Twitch. This ethnographic qualitative study uses three different analytical tools to understand the language (verbal and nonverbal) of gay video gamers (gaymers) on Twitch by using the game Dead by Daylight (Behaviour Interactive, 2016). The concepts of identity performance and embodiment help to advance the field of queer game studies, since notions of safe spaces and community building are primary themes that emerged from the data analysis. Furthermore, the semiotics found and analyzed support the notion that gamers and LGBTQ individuals are a culture who have a unique linguistic pattern that is understood by members of the community. This study concludes that while gay language is complex, non-exclusionary third places and safe spaces emerge through the community meaning making on stream, including important discussions about sex and sexuality.

Keywords: Twitch, semiotics, LGBTQ, identity performance, safe space, gaymers, embodiment, queer theory, queer game studies

Introduction

LGBTQ gamers continue to be an important and understudied part of the gaming community, and they make up a growing sector of the market. A 2024 article from GLAAD indicated that LGBTQ gamers currently make up 17% of the gaming population, an increase of 70% in the last three years (2024 GLAAD Gaming Report). Twitch, a platform for streaming games, has become one of the most visited websites on the planet, with billions of dollars in revenue, according to Johnson (2024). All the while, Taylor (2018) notes that along with women and people of color, LGBTQ folks are some of the most frequently harassed on Twitch. While some attention regarding the harassment faced by minoritized groups has been examined through studies on women streamers (Ruberg et al., 2019) and people of color (Gray, 2017), fewer studies exist for LGBTQ streamers, audiences or gamers in general.

While LGBTQ gamers may experience potential harassment and hate speech online (Buyukozturk, 2022; Eklund, 2011; Williams & Kirschner, 2012), gaming also allows queer people to find community (Blanco-Fernández & Moreno, 2023; Shaw, 2011) that may not be accessible in their home, school or town (Saha et al., 2019). This escape into an online space (Hall, 2019) can be seen as an attempt to seek out a safe space to explore gender and sexual identities (Freeman & Wohn, 2020; Sjöblom, 2017). As Freeman and Wohn (2020) note, “[m]any described that live streaming platforms afforded ‘safe spaces’ for them to reveal non-binary or non-traditional gender identity and sexual identity, even amidst the harassment that they would sometimes be subject to” (p. 803). Identity formation is also an important aspect of how “gaymers” relate and find one another online. The term “gaymer” (a portmanteau of “gay” and “gamer”) was originally coined on internet community boards (Shaw, 2011; 2012) and is not only limited to gay men (Gray, 2018). Shaw (2012) shows that the construction of a “gaymer” identity is somewhat nebulous, while Ai et al. (2023) state that the identity that exists for a gaymer is constructed through “in-game identification, social community expansion, restorative effect, meaning recognition” (p. 11). By crafting this identity or one’s self-presentation goals online (DeVito et al., 2018), the gaymer is conducting a performance through the choice of playing a game queerly (Eklund, 2011; Freeman & Wohn, 2020). Through Twitch streams, the gaming community -- and more specifically LGBTQ gamers -- are able to network and create their own safe spaces in which questions of identity can be explored and LGBTQ-themed discussions, such as those regarding sex and love or pop culture and gaming, can be discussed openly.

Research Question

Given this co-creation of identity and community, I want to explore specifically how gay Twitch streamers relate to this subculture with their own identity and the identity of the audience members watching them. The research question for this article is thus: How do gaymers on Twitch explore and present their identities while playing games on stream? To answer this research question, I chose to look at gay streamers on Twitch who play Dead by Daylight.

Dead By Daylight

Dead by Daylight (Behaviour Interactive, 2016) is an asymmetrical horror game that takes place inside of a traditional horror movie setting. Four survivors are locked inside of an arena and face off against a killer, with each character being controlled by a human player in 4v1 style. The survivors have the goal of repairing five generators that power up the exit gate and thus enable them to successfully leave the trial grounds. The killer has the goal of trying to hunt down and sacrifice each survivor to the evil being known simply as “the Entity,” specifically by placing them on sacrificial hooks. Dead by Daylight is a game that enjoys continued popularity, with regularly scheduled releases that include new playable survivors, killers and maps, including licensed killers from classic horror movie franchises.

Dead by Daylight was chosen as the operative game for this study for several reasons. On Twitch, Dead by Daylight is among the most popular stream categories alongside Call of Duty, Overwatch 2, and Minecraft. Games of Dead by Daylight are anywhere from eight to fifteen minutes long, with a clear loading screen and ending screen, which makes for well-defined bounds of transcription elements. Additionally, Dead by Daylight has a significant following among LGBTQ gaymers, encouraged by the developers who partner with drag queens for launch events, and have even written into the game playable gay and trans main characters. In a 2022 press release, the developers of the game announced that “[o]ne of the cornerstones of that community are our LGBTQIA2+ players, who continue to elevate Dead by Daylight with their tireless passion for horror, gaming, and of course -- horror gaming” (DeadbyDaylight.com). The game developers also added every LGBTQ flag into the game, as charms on players’ hips or killers’ sacrificial hooks, and they have also added a few other LGBTQ themed tokens (Megarry, 2023; Johnson, 2025), which are all accessible by permanently active codes. A central focus of the article, these charms are a semiotic symbol worn by the community to be read and interpreted by the players. Johnson (2025) also discusses the charms, along with outfits within Dead by Daylight, signal LGBTQ representation.

Literature Review

Queer Gaymers and LGBTQ Identity Performance

Two collected volumes -- Queer Game Studies (2017) and Queerness in Play (2018) -- document the history, importance and necessity of queer game studies (Harper et al., 2018; Ruberg & Shaw, 2017). As Saha et al. (2019) argue, the integration of queer theory enhances understanding of LGBTQ+ experiences “because it builds upon the idea that gender is part of the essential self and emphasizes the socially constructed nature of sexual acts and identities” (p. 18). Given the growing number of queer gamers and in-game queer characters, envisioning games through a queer lens is crucial for modern game studies.

Queer people must always be aware of looks, actions, talk, composure and the times when they may perform queerly or not (DeVito et al., 2018; Eklund, 2011; Gray, 2018; Pellicone & Ahn, 2017). Performance comes into the forefront of a player’s mind when making decisions about options of clothing (Krobová et al., 2015) or choice of avatar (Whitehouse et al., 2023; Yee et al., 2011), or as a categorization process between in-groups and out-groups (Lynch et al., 2023). Freeman and Wohn (2020) continue this discussion of performance through avatars by relocating the performance of gender and identity from the avatar to the game player, or video game streamer, who is acting as an “avatar” for the gameplay by learning and adjusting their performance for the audience. Through these notions, the one who is playing is crucial to the overall experience of identity and performance for LGBTQ people.

Play and Sexuality

To engage in identity performance through gameplay, goals and/or intentions of the player emerges in pursuit of positive outcomes, such as fun, enjoyment, satisfaction, or pleasure; or negative ones, such as frustration, anger, or dissatisfaction (Gee, 2007; Huizinga, 1944; Winnicott, 1971). Buyuozturk (2022) stresses the importance of the concept of play, or social play, because of the relationship-building potential in video games. On relationships of queer communities, Shaw (2015) considers “[w]hat counts as play, who gets to play, and the assumed goals of play intersect directly with many of the tensions addressed by queer theory” (p. 65). Similarly, Ruberg (2018) furthers this point by describing how “‘playing queer’ can mean playing video games in ways that run counter to the intentions of their designers, reappropriating game play for the pleasures of nonheteronormative players” (p. 552). Likewise, queerness can be brought out through video game controllers by crafting an option for sexualized play (Harrer, et al., 2019; Marcotte, 2018).

Unwritten in some of these texts, the verb “play” can be read as sexual interactions (Harrer, et al., 2019; Marcotte, 2018; Shaw, 2015; Winnicott, 1971). Ruberg (2010) eloquently states the comparison between sex and play: “If something so complicated, weighty, and culturally rich as sex can be a form of play, does the term ‘just a game’ with its implications of something small, meaningless -- ever apply?” Conversations around sexuality, discussions of sex and openness towards all things sexual are a recurring topic of conversation in the LGBTQ community (Chess, 2016; Saha et al., 2019; Shaw, 2015) and thus should be brought into the discussion of what constitutes a queer game play. Connecting to queer theory at large, as Warner (2002) states: “Even if sex practice is not the object domain of queer studies, sex is everywhere present” (p. 206).

Language, Semiotics and Safe Spaces

Since the discussions of both sex and video games all come with a linguistic learning curve, there are symbols and signs to decode -- known as semiotics. In a homophobic world, semiotics are important to the LGBTQ community as a way of sharing coded language such as “[t]he hankie code is a semiotic system used by men in North America to communicate their sexual interests to other men” (Reilly & Saethre, 2013, p. 69). Additionally, semiotics can go beyond wearing something and communicating through the use of nonverbal cues; it can become the physical embodiment of a sign, the cultural system of interpretation or even the meaning-making of reading a body (Hodge & Kress, 1988). This physical embodiment also has a deeper meaning to semiotics in terms of queer people, who are often misread or misgendered (McPhail et al., 2022).

On discussing Twitch specifically, Recktenwald (2017) argues that “the meaning of game events is produced within the interactions by the participants” (p. 77). Freeman and Acena (2022) note that experimentation online through avatars is one way that queer people explore new identities safely before trying them out in the real world. On discussing the ever-increasing ways to design and style characters, Rivera (2022) elaborates “[t]he video game avatar offers obvious avenues through which to explore societally unacceptable fantasies related to the performance of gender” (p. 487). Similarly, Huh and Williams (2010) note that “homosexual users were more likely to change their online gender than straight users” (p. 170) in a study conducted about gender swapping in an online game.

In exploring the internet as a virtual space, Freeman and Acena (2022) espouse the notion that the disappearance of offline safe spaces creates a need for LGBTQ people to go online to learn more about their identity. This online learning process can be observed through Warner (2002) and the discussion of private life in a public setting. By framing the queer culture as a counterpublic, the necessity to bring the private life into the public sphere becomes a foundation for the development of the vocabularies and embodiment of culture that has been developed in the public or “mobile sites of drag, youth culture, music, dance, parades, flaunting, and cruising” (Warner, 2002, p. 202). Consistent with the semiotic tradition above, queer people must be read -- and must read each other -- as queer when performing their queerness in public. I argue that mobile -- in Warner’s (2002) definition: fleeting or transitory -- applies to that of the modern-day mobile internet -- something accessible anywhere at any time. Twitch streaming, which becomes the epitome of Warner’s discussion of sites of queerness, thus truly embodies the notion of private life (the presentation of oneself) made public (performing for the camera), which is captured by Taylor (2018).

Methods

In the vein of T.L. Taylor (2018) and her ethnographic study of Twitch, this study analyzes observations of the culture of gay gamers who stream on Twitch through the lens of semiotics (both verbal and nonverbal symbols). Through observations of videos, the research design utilized Video Mediated Communication (VMC) (Recktenwald, 2017) using three randomized participants and three methods of qualitative data analysis. Observations produced authentic transcripts of participants’ language, with emphasis on in vivo codes and thick description (Tracy, 2019). Dead by Daylight was chosen as the game to observe this phenomenon due to its popularity among LGBTQ audiences and the symbolic nature of the charms embedded into the game, and Twitch was chosen as the platform because of the way it allows for streamers to vocalize their game play actions and interact with audience members, as shown below.

Collected outside of the randomized streams, watched after the data analysis concluded, Streamers 2 and 3 share quotes that illuminate well the two chosen third places: Twitch and Dead by Daylight. Commenting on Twitch, Streamer 3 states:

…I was like “how do people just sit there and watch people play video games?” And then I got into Twitch and I was like “I understand!” It’s like a whole new genre of community and friends! …Best thing I ever did was start Twitch. …I’ve met so many wonderful, beautiful souls.

Commenting on Dead by Daylight, Streamer 2 states: “Dead by Daylight is an asymmetrical horror game. It’s a very specific genre of game. But it has a big LGBTQ following.”

Data Collection

Recktenwald (2017) notes important data collection markers such as “the spoken and embodied communication of the broadcaster, the written messages of the audience and the annotation of the game activity in the form of game events” (p. 69). Twitch becomes an important place to collect observation data because of the large amount of content displayed on the platform (e.g., auditory cues, indications of game play, visual displays of disposition, visuals of game play interactions). In this research design, emphasis was given to the multimodal features of data collection noted by Jewitt et al. (2016) in their “social semiotic methodology,” such as “placing emphasis on the social contexts” (p. 74).

Purposive sampling techniques were used to identify streamers who matched the criteria of: 1) playing Dead by Daylight; 2) self-sorting on Twitch using the specific tag of “gay” or “gaymer”; 3) broadcasting in English; and 4) streaming their face, instead of an avatar or no face at all. Searches on Twitch were conducted at various times of the day and on different days of the week because Twitch only uses tags for livestreams. The result was a list of nine streamers (n=9) with five games each, resulting in 45 videos total. Five games were chosen because, on average, this resulted in about one hour of content. Analysis data was collected using the “Recent Past Broadcast” system under a streamer’s Twitch page, selecting “Videos” so that play/pause and rewind/fast-forward functionalities were enabled, starting with the first game of the broadcast.

The template used, which is a modified version of Recktenwald’s (2017) methods of Twitch transcription for audio/visual data, shows how games were recorded with manual transcription, broken up into different parts of semiotic analysis: Streamer (Player) Visual/Non-Verbal, Streamer (Player) Auditory, Verbal Remarks, Combined Visual (nonverbal) and Audio (remark), Avatar Non-verbal movements, Symbols (flags, outfits, etc.). The videos were broken up into Streamer Number/Game Number (i.e. Streamer 1, Game 1) to maintain anonymity in accordance with IRB Approval (24-0122). Consistent with the separation of nonverbal cues, game events and streamer verbal comments, the transcription methods incorporate nonverbal collection methods mentioned by Onwuegbuzie et al. (2014). For the purposes of this study on gameplay and LGBTQ interactions, transcription ignored Twitch-only related comments, e.g. “Thank you for the 19 months subscription.” The result was an abridged transcript that was coded through three different types of qualitative analysis.

Analysis

Three types of analysis were used to achieve triangulation and strengthen the accuracy and rigor of the results (Leech & Onwuegbuzie, 2007). Initially, Constant Comparison Analysis (Glaser, 1965) and Keywords-in-Context (Fielding & Lee, 1998) were used on the verbal hand-typed transcript, followed by Social Semiotic Analysis (Hodge & Kress, 1988: Jewitt et al., 2016) on the nonverbal aspects through rewatching the videos. After the first three streamers in the list were analyzed by the two verbal methods, saturation had been achieved, as the same codes were produced and seen among these three streamers. Thus, Streamers 4 through 9 were removed from analysis at this point, and the third nonverbal analysis took place only on the remaining three streamers (15 videos). The three streamers each appeared to identify as a gay man (as noted by the self-selecting stream tags). Each of the analyses were completed by hand without the aid of a computer program (Tracy, 2019). The triangulation of results provided by these three analyses produced context and meaning into the individual phrases. The triangulation also provided a broader understanding of the ethnographic culture of gay gamers on Twitch when the results of each streamer were compared to one another. This combination of observations, well-detailed qualitative methods, thick descriptions (including nuances and hidden meanings) and qualifications meets the expectations of credibility as outlined by Shenton (2004) for meeting trustworthiness in qualitative research.

Constant Comparison

Constant Comparison Analysis (Glaser, 1965) describes tactics for analyzing data with iterative approaches to thematic analysis. The steps taken are 1) open coding; 2) axial coding; and 3) selective coding. I reviewed the transcripts and highlighted terms and phrases as well as overall messages and content to produce a series of open codes. All codes produced during open coding were as close to in vivo codes (or the words said by the Streamer live on camera) (e.g., Socials, Job, Hook, Generator) as possible, with a few exceptions for action items and utterances (e.g., Game Actions, Gay Slang, and Intoxication). These utterances in turn are supported by the social semiotic analysis, as Hodge and Kress (1988) note that the utterance is “at the centre of social semiotics” (p. 37). Following the open coding sessions for each individual streamer, axial coding was conducted whereby the codes were grouped together into initial themes (e.g., Uniqueness of Stream, Gay, Game-Related). Selective coding was conducted on an overarching level by combining all three Streamers together, which produced overall themes that would later be present in the other analytic processes: About-Game, About-Twitch, About-LGBTQ.

Keywords-in-Context

Keywords-in-Context (Fielding & Lee, 1998) is a process by which meaning is attributed to words through the context in which they are uttered. As part of this analysis, I re-read the transcripts and highlighted words that sounded strange, were emphasized in the streamer’s intonation or were clearly colloquial terms. I organized these into groupings of similar words, using the decoding of both the streamer’s own explanation and the video/gameplay activity to help define and organize each term. The final list resulted in a string of keywords that could be defined and counted. The count or frequency of the word then reinforces the common words and phrases individually and across streamers. Each streamer had their own unique language pool, style, and syntactical system structure; however, as noted, many codes and phrases were repeated. Additionally, codes produced by looking through Keywords-in-Context were distinct from Constant Comparison codes, but many of the same ideas were repeated (e.g., Drag Race, Hook, Generator).

Social Semiotic Analysis

Since this article explores the semiotics employed by gaymers, Social Semiotic Analysis (Jewitt et al., 2016) was used to elaborate on the multimodal approach of the Video Mediated Communication (Recktenwald, 2017). As Jewitt et al. (2016) note, a Social Semiotic Analysis “…views artifacts as a semiotic material residue of a sign maker’s interests mediated through the environment the sign was made in,” and is categorized as an iterative process that seeks to look at “modes” of semiotics by asking questions and positioning the researcher as a part of the analytical process (p. 74). The semiotics observed through this process were: 1) avatar choices, such as actions and outfits, displaying meaning and intent; 2) voice as a semiotic tool for decoding sarcasm and sincerity; and 3) symbols employed in the game and by the streamer as a verification tool for being a member of the community (e.g., the pride flags). Being a member of both the gaming community and the queer community myself, I had insight into the combination of meanings repeated by the community, which is not only beneficial to social semiotic analysis but encouraged. Additionally, since semiotics are a system of culturally created signs with meanings attached to them, I argue that being a member of both communities provides insight that would otherwise be unattainable.

Results

Initial Analyses -- Verbal

Constant Comparison Analysis

Starting with Constant Comparison Analysis, common axial themes emerged across all three streamers (e.g., Job, Jargon, Lingo, Gameplay Actions, Gay Sex, Community/Culture, Drag Race); however, upon collating all of these common themes together, the selective coding process produced three major themes present across all streamers: About-Game, About-Twitch, or About-LGBTQ. Presented below is a summary of each major theme along with the axial codes (sub-themes) that were collocated among each streamer.

About-Game. The “About-Game” theme emerged as a major discussion because many of the quotes, comments, phrases and discussions generally focused on the game. Each streamer commented on the game in a way that is colloquial and light-hearted, thus also safe and welcoming. An example from Streamer 2 captures the overall theme well:

Was he just trying to die? I don’t understand. People really don’t like Plague. It’s so funny ‘cuz like I don’t think Plague is that strong of a killer but people will constantly disconnect or drop on hook against her...

Plague, the killer character they are discussing, is interpreted as either gross or difficult, and so players “drop on hook” or “disconnect” -- known as two aggressive ways to remove oneself from the game -- instead of just playing against her. The Streamer even notes that in his own personal opinion, Plague does not appear to be that strong of a killer, but the perception of playing against her results in the aggressive behavior. As can be seen from this example as well as the summarized table below, a large amount of conversation was dedicated to the game regardless of the type of discussion (e.g., approving language or disapproving language).

Table 1: Sub-themes of About-Game

These three phrases capture the overall variety of the themes. Each phrase references the game (Nancy/Meg, hat, and take chase), but the context in which they are all said becomes important for complete understanding. For example, Streamer 2 is a masculine-presenting self-identified gay streamer, but the phrase “gorgeously” is a colloquially queer way of speaking, and hat refers to the in-game reverse-bear-trap placed on the head of a survivor by the Killer.

About-Twitch. The “About-Twitch” theme emerged as a major discussion because of the interactions related to the platform. Setting aside the specific Twitch-only related comments (e.g., subscriptions), the remainder of the About-Twitch comments revolved around the importance of the community present on stream, jobs/income from Twitch, or Twitch as a space. These examples demonstrate the importance of the multi-faceted space of Twitch. From discussions of Drag Race to safe spaces, the streamers are taking time to address how and why Twitch is powerful for the community. An example from Streamer 1 captures the overall theme well: “Did you guys just see what happened? This TTVer brought the killer to me… and murdered me!” Here, TTVer stands for another Twitch streamer in the game (identified by TTV -- or Twitch TV -- at the end of their name). This Streamer provides a commentary for how a “fellow” Twitch streamer violated the rules of the game by exposing the location (seen by the other Survivor, but not to the Killer) of his Avatar to the Killer, who then murdered him out of the game. As can be seen from this overarching example, and the summarized table below, despite the type of discussion (e.g., safe space, job, LGBTQ) a portion of conversation was dedicated to the Twitch as a platform, and the Streamer’s relationship with Twitch.

Table 2: Sub-themes of About-Twitch

Similar to the previous category excerpts, these quotes capture the overall ideas presented by the streamers with regards to each category about Twitch. While mentioning subscriptions, one streamer noted Anastasia Beverly Hills cosmetics, which made the pop culture reference to Drag Race, which would not be known to every queer person in stream, but enough people would know the reference to laugh in response. Regarding the Safe Space example, Streamer 3 made this comment with vocalics implying sarcasm, on the heels of comments about his penis size being too large -- all coded so as to evade the Twitch language bans.

About-LGBTQ. The “About-LGBTQ” theme emerged as a major discussion because all three of the Streamers referenced sex acts, sex positions, gay culture, and other raunchy terms in the nonchalant way one would expect at gay bars or drag shows. These examples show, as supported by Jewitt et al.’s (2016) definition of semiotics through community utterances and/or Hodge and Kress’ (1988) social context, that many conversations, phrases and utterances are used in queer spaces by queer people, regardless of the context of game or Twitch. Regardless of topic, certain phrases and lingo relate back to LGBTQ identities, whether it is a colloquial phrase understood by the community or a discussion about someone’s sex life. An example from Streamer 2 captures the overall theme well:

The biggest ban I’ve ever got was for hate speech. They consider a lot of gay lingo hate speech. …like you can’t say ‘queer’. …There are certain words that we say all the time in the community that they will just autoban you...

Words used by the LGBTQ community are often considered “hate speech” by platforms/companies who do not know about the community and/or the usage of the word in the community. As can be seen from this overarching example, and the summarized table below, despite the type of discussion (e.g., sex, game, lingo) a vast amount of conversation was dedicated to the LGBTQ-related discussions.

Table 3: Sub-themes of About-LGBTQ

Here, the example phrases showcase the queer community lingo that requires not only definition but contextual understanding. “Cakes,” slang for rear-ends, evades Twitch’s scans for language to ban. As well, the references to “prime daddy part of town” are not only explaining a sexual preference -- in this case for an older, handsome man -- but also making reference to Grindr, elusive to saying the App name. While any of these slang words or phrases could be defined through a Google search, they also get defined through the community on stream.

Keywords-in-Context

Keywords-in-context produced phrases that confirmed the themes found during Constant Comparison Analysis. The examples below show that despite a variation in the coding (e.g., Swear, Slang), the conversation still links back to the major themes.

For Streamer 1, the two most frequent keywords were some version of a “Swear” (n=13) or some iteration of a “Gay Slang” (n=15). Other keywords revolved around: Hook, Generator, Game Lingo, Wine, or Exaggeration. An example of this: “I just told these people I was going to fucking try. …No! Sir, can you just fuck off! Sir, I’m trying to not look like an asshat in front of these people. Sir! Sir, oh please. Sir, it’s Christmas!”

For Streamer 2, the two most frequent keywords were an iteration of “Gay Slang” (n=16) and “Game-related Lingo” (n=15). Other keywords included Game Title, Stream, Twitch, LGBTQ Community, Disconnect and Drag Race. An example of this:

I say it ironically, but to this day, I don’t know what “boots the house down” means. I literally don’t know. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know the connection. I don’t know the etymology. I don’t know what makes it a queer term.

For Streamer 3, the two most frequent keywords were more iterations of Gay Slang (n=18) and a combination of words symbolizing rear-end (n=14). Other keywords included Easy Mode, Erotic Art, Swear, Tunnel, Hook, Generator, Game and Self. An example of this:

Musky is clean though. There’s a big difference between like musty like unclean and then like musky which is like two hours after shower butt. So, musky does not mean like blah butt. Musky is like you take a shower and get all washed up and then like two or three hours later that really nummy like you know.

The counting of the words was important for shining light on the frequency with which certain phrases were uttered. This connects and supports the social semiotic analysis by showing that some of the game-related comments are repeated out of necessity, whereas queer-related words are just mentioned several times for humor or community connection. This emphasizes the intentionality of the creation of the safe space through the social context of words, specifically by saying words such as “sis” or “queer” or “daddy” that foster the same community one would find at a bar or other clearly queer space.

Secondary Analyses -- Nonverbal

Finally, after the first two analyses were conducted using the transcript of the videos, member checking was done by returning to the videos to look for non-verbal cues and symbols that might confirm or disconfirm the analysis and results produced thus far. Using Social Semiotic Analysis (Jewitt et al., 2016), I analyzed the “modes” of the social semiotics featured in the multimodal context also appear as “socially constructed” and “recognized within a community” (p. 71). For this research design, and within the stream and game environment, the most important social semiotics were Avatar, Voice and Symbols. These three were the most important aspects because they were the three aspects of the game and language that were not readily identifiable by words alone. Avatars became very important parts of the discussion; tone was necessary to decode some phrases; symbols were visibly seen on each stream.

Avatar

The literature shows that avatars are powerful translational devices (Whitehouse et al., 2023; Yee et al., 2011). In Dead by Daylight, avatars/characters can point, wave, squat and nod as nonverbal actions, with no accompanying vocals unless the player is on a private audio chat. Thus, with only four limited actions, the interpretation or meaning-making is left up to situational awareness and communication prowess. According to Jewitt et al. (2016), the avatar serves as both a communication device and the proxy-server for the gamer -- or the producer and the interpreter of the sign. In the case of Dead by Daylight, the avatars are limited in their communication and must rely on these four gestures, but these gestures are nevertheless controlled by the gamer -- to be reimagined within the environment they are being communicated.

Example 1 -- Streamer 1. Streamer 1’s own commentary on his understanding of the in-game avatar of another player’s avatar pointing at his avatar can elicit meaning and understanding to not only phrases, but also the avatar body language. Streamer 1 announces to himself and the stream, in response to the other character in the game: “Oh I’ll go save that person. I understand what you’re telling me, David.”

Example 2 - Streamer 3. At one point, Streamer 3 paused playing the game to use his avatar to point to the killer while saying “You’re a bad,” thus announcing his disapproval of the killer both verbally and nonverbally. This sort of transactional form of communication -- sending and receiving messages -- was consistent throughout the data, particularly when rewatching for nonverbal cues.

Example 3 -- Streamer 1. Streamer 1 mentions the odd phrase of “Oh no I have a crow!” By watching the accompanying video, “have a crow” can be seen within the game to mean the crows are circling the head of the avatar -- providing meaning and understanding to in-game mechanics of a penalty for being inactive too long. In game, circling crows simply signal player inactivity.

Each of these example statements clarifies for audience members the actions that the player is taking to control the avatar. As seen by Example 1, the streamer was receiving communication signals and responded accordingly. In this game, some avatar movements, such as repeated squatting, can be read as “toxic” by other players known as an aggressive gesture called tea bagging. In this analysis, the avatars provided further aspects and relationships to the queer community, such as the references to the “new caked up outfit” worn by David King, the only gay character in the game. The use of this avatar, and accompanying outfit, was vocally approved by the audience through the Streamer.

Voice

Voice intonation became a key aspect of the Social Semiotic Analysis. Consider the following statement from Streamer 3: “You cannot give the killer free kills. You must play the way that you play off stream. We can have no silly sally gonzo behavior today. No having fun. Only sweating. Only try harding.” The text of the following excerpt sounds not only harsh, but also serious. In reality, the Streamer’s delivery of this is clearly humorous and communicative in a friendly manner. Here, Streamer 3 is using language, observed through my own play and watching streams, to be associated with players who take away fun from the game by playing too seriously, but he is employing sarcasm to tell his friend they are just here to have fun. Because of voice inflections (e.g., sarcasm), a transduction occurs, as noted by Jewitt et al., (2016). The movement across modes here is the double-meaning applied to the words that go beyond their literal definition; the words move from condescension to one of friendship. Voice, on stream, sheds light on the actions taken by the streamer, including how they conduct their performance and play queerly. By announcing actions to the audience or using humor/sarcasm, the streamer is turning their private play into a public performance (Taylor, 2018).

Symbols

Three symbols were present in the stream videos: a) the Streamer’s appearance; b) the choice of character; and c) the charms used within the game. The appearance of all three Streamers, without giving away identifiable specifics, included being shirtless (or wearing accessories as clothing) and having some sort of LGBTQ-related accent piece, such as a background, a pin, a flag or words on an article of clothing. Character choices included David King, the gay character, because of his shirtless Avatar and new shorts (re: “cake” reference) and Jane Romero because she had “the ugliest Christmas outfit,” as mentioned by Streamer 1. The available charms include the permanent addition of LGBTQ flags (Haug, 2022; Johnson, 2025), and importantly, all three Streamers donned the Pride Flag or Progress Flag on either their Survivor or the Killer’s Hook. In addition, all three Streamers often mentioned aloud when they saw another LGBTQ charm or would pan the camera to look at the charms. As noted by Jewitt et al., (2016) these are design choices in which the gamer “…chooses semiotic resources and possible arrangements for semiotic entities to be produced to meet particular social functions or purposes” (p. 73). In these cases, the design elements show a combination of streamer and character outfit choices, as well as the use of symbols to include a signaling effort (akin to the hankie code) that serve to meet a social function -- in this case, symbolizing the LGBTQ aspect of the gamer’s identity both on stream and within the game.

Discussion

As described by Kress (2010) when explaining Social Semiotics, “if I want to be understood, by preference I use the resources that those around me know and use to make the signs which I need to make” (p. 64). Following this logic, I argue here that the streamers (and therefore by proxy the audience members) are each making and interpreting social semiotics through their shared discussions of sex and sexuality, the game and Twitch. I believe these three pillars come together to form LGBTQ community through a meaning-making process that is sometimes built upon the streamer alone (such as their choice of avatar) or the streamer-audience relationship (through questions in the chat about lingo related to e.g., Grindr, Drag Race). People come and go in the stream, joining the chat and continuously interpreting and making meanings of all of the signs, codes, lingos and utterances (Kress, 2010; Hodge & Kress, 1988; Jewitt et al., 2016).

Though not a requisite element for establishing LGBTQ community, sexual discussions are integral foundations for LGBTQ folks (Warner, 2002) and are frequently observed as part of LGBTQ social life (i.e. discussions of dating), as seen through this social semiotic analysis. This is supported through a reading of Chess (2016), not only through her argument but also through her own choice of language when referring to the queer community, queer culture and video games and their narratives: “This demonstrates that video games essentially lack the ‘cum shot’ -- the ejaculatory moment intending reproduction that is inherent in straight narrative form” (p. 85). While potentially coarse and graphic, the reclamation of sexuality through the choice of such language reinforces the idea that sex words are inherently tied to queer culture.

In addition to the discussions about sex, the discussions about the game and/or Twitch also revolved around LGBTQ-adjacent themes. Streamer 1 discusses Grindr by coding it behind lingo that the community would understand in statements like, “No, I haven’t heard anything from ‘Hung Top.’ …Is there anything better than when you move and you get a fresh grid?” By using words like “fresh grid” or “bottoming,” the audience members would understand the meanings of these coded words and linguistically associate them with phrases heard in other LGBTQ-related spaces, such as bars and other queer spaces. Additionally, coded words or language not accessible to everyone is embedded in the meaning-making of queer spaces, as can be exemplified herein and also through queer media, where excessive puns and double entendres are cornerstones of the community. The visuals of the stream itself -- which include LGBTQ banners or humorous/sexy outfits -- support this notion.

All discussions related back to the concepts of sex and openness, regardless of the category of conversation. See, for example, Streamer 3’s statement, “I’ve gotta have my fiber gummies for when I’m bottoming relentlessly.” Since most queer content in media and popular culture is optional (as in choosing a gay romance option, or choosing an oppositely gendered character) (Chang, 2017; Shaw, 2011), the intentional queering of the Twitch stream can be seen as a way of bringing gay content into a space where it otherwise would not exist. The counterpublic (Warner, 2002) that forms around this game is a result of the queering of game play (Ruberg & Shaw, 2017). As eloquently stated by Persaud and Perks (2022), drag queens on Twitch reinforce these linguistic practices by “yelling a contemporary gay popular culture catchphrase every time they get a new subscriber” (p. 478). These continuous references and words perpetuate and reinforce a circular notion where it becomes more socially acceptable to say the words and therefore creates a more welcoming -- or queerly visible -- atmosphere, through the embodiment of queerness (Freeman & Acena, 2022).

As seen in the questions that streamers ask and answer, online social media platforms can become an informal place to experience learning about being LGBTQ (Fox and Ralston, 2016). Similarly, Wulf et al. (2020) noted that Twitch is “a space to interact with peers having the same interest in an easily joinable community” (p. 341). Paraphrasing McPhail et al. (2022), it is not simply enough to hang a pride flag and call something a safe space; there has to be a physical embodiment of queerness to promote safe feelings. While the linguistic patterns that appear in this analysis could be seen as an exclusionary barrier to joining, for example, to those who are unfamiliar with the words or are not part of the LGBTQ community, Kress’ (2010) stressing of the use of resources, in this case other participants in the steam, to decode emphasizes that there is a participatory community building activity to joining an unfamiliar stream (Hamilton et al., 2014), where all people participate in performance and exploration of identity work (Ai et al, 2023; Eklund, 2011; Freeman & Wohn, 2020; Pellicone & Ahn, 2017; Saha et al., 2019).

Conclusions

By exploring gaymers’ explorations of identity through playing games on Twitch, my observed use of social semiotics of language, utterances, symbols, and meaning making can all be related to the larger scholarship of queer gaymers and LGBTQ identity, play & sexuality, and language, semiotics, & safe spaces. I propose that these thematic topics all come together like a funnel to create a safe space and community. Present within each of these categories happen to be discussions of sex, sexuality and raunchiness. It is not simply that community is emergent from these topics, but rather it is a continuous reading of how community emerges when streamers and viewers are collected in a space with similar interests and identities.

Figure 1. Funnel of Game Aspects. Click image to enlarge.

Community building can be seen through phrases that invite or welcome people into the stream (e.g., “please give them Anastasia Beverly Hills Cosmetics”), phrases that relate or link back to the social or political issues facing LGBTQ community (e.g., hate speech/bans), the open discussion of sex and sexuality (e.g., mentions of armpits, “fresh grid,” bottoming) and the negotiation of colloquial definitions (e.g., musky, boots the house down). These specific phrases spark communal connections because they are non-exclusionary, free-flowing and disinhibited. As well, the promotion of the Streamers’ own identity (e.g. flags on avatars, flags on stream) is also non-exclusionary by the open invitation of the stream for audiences to join the environment. By mentioning topics such as Grindr and bottoming, the Streamers create an open and welcoming or safe space for people to join, participate, comment and question along with other members of the LGBTQ community. This, in turn, serves as a third place for LGBTQ community to form and gather online.

Consistent with the literature, a “third place,” or “informal public spaces, such as coffee shops or parks, where people engage in sociability to form and maintain communities” is at the root of participatory activities like streaming (Hamilton et al., 2014, p. 1316) or online gaming (Steinkuehler & Williams, 2006). Twitch unites game players together in a chatroom-like environment where participants (streamer and audience) are all interacting (Recktenwald, 2017). Viewing Twitch as a third place aligns with research showing that Twitch streams relate positively to cultures of spectating and gratification, as well as the social structures of motivation and escapism (Sjöblom et al., 2017). Thus, by viewing Twitch as a third place for gaymers, the concepts of a safe space for community building emerges as a prominent theme from the analyses. Gay Twitch Streamers create safe spaces for LGBTQ gamers by presenting themselves authentically and engaging in a robust chat that is not strictly limited to the game. Rather, the game serves as a proxy for more LGBTQ-related content; without the game, no one would join the stream. Serving as a backdrop, the game becomes the proxy through which the discussions for sex, openness, play, love and queerness emerge, primarily through self-disclosure.

Not every single aspect of the funnel diagram needs to be present to ensure that a safe space emerges on a Twitch stream, but the combination of these aspects come together and funnel towards making that safe space happen through community. With LGBTQ people, the open discussion of sex can be overheard in many third places that the queer community frequents, such as bars and drag clubs; however, it is important to also recognize spaces that support non-alcoholic or neurodiverse options for participating in these discussions. This study supports the notion that gay streamers create safe spaces for LGBTQ gaymers to explore, embrace and perform their LGBTQ identity through discussions of LGBTQ-related topics, including sex. The importance of sexual discussions within the LGBTQ community lies within the inherent community needs, such as healthcare spaces (McPhail et al., 2022). Freeman and Wohn (2020) label this discussion of gender and sexuality as a “ritual” of acknowledgement. Therefore, while not necessarily needed, as there could be plenty of other topics, discussions around sex and sexuality are important community building markers for LGBTQ people, for example that even when talking about Twitch or the Game, pop culture (e.g., Grindr) references emerged.

While the audience’s interpretation of what constitutes a safe space is unknown (unless they are deliberately asked about it), the streamer’s reading of the chat aloud constitutes a safe space because of the voluntary participation the audience undertakes by interacting with the streamer. Safe spaces are generally determined by the person entering the space, believing it to be either non-judgmental or a place where they can authentically come out as LGBTQ. And while the space could be read as exclusionary to non-LGBTQ folks, the streamer’s authenticity is important for creating a place of inclusion, reinforcing the notion of a safe space. When people asked questions in the chat, or when the streamer wanted clarity about a word/phrase, the community provided an answer that added to the ongoing creation of the safe space through the social context of words. In my observation, streamers never blatantly ignored any comments; all comments and questions were addressed, adding to the experience of free-flowing information. My assumptions lie in that the safe space is created simply because the audience members feel comfortable sharing and interacting with the streamer with discussions like sex, drag queens and hate crimes.

Streamer 3 offered a welcoming message at the beginning of one stream, which I would suggest encapsulates the idea of the creation of LGBTQ safe spaces and community: “I want you have a nice vibey stream. Come hangout with friends.”

Through my observations and analyses, I identify the following aspects as the important contributions of this study:

1) Gay streamers provide a safe space for asking questions and discussing LGBTQ topics; and

2) Uninhibited word usage, such as swearing, discussions of sex and body parts or common LGBTQ phrasings, are used to bring about community.

This article contributes to the literature by adding more discussions based on identity, performance and semiotics, while also looking specifically at a game (Dead by Daylight) and a platform (Twitch), both of which are also under researched, although more is coming out each year. Additionally, as a marginalized population, LGBTQ gamers are an under-researched group compared to non-LGBTQ gamers. Consistent with the suggestions for future research by Freeman and Wohn (2020), this article adds to a research gap by filling in information on marginalized streamers and the environment surrounding their identity. The article’s findings also serve as a response to DeVito et al.’s (2018) suggestion for more research on identity presentation in online spaces.

Limitations

One of the main limitations of this article is the exclusive use of Twitch and Dead by Daylight as the two main sources for data. Any other game could be used, and other platforms such as TikTok could be explored for safe-space content. Additional limitations include the number of games and/or streamers selected via tags. Other LGBTQ related tags exist on Twitch (e.g., LGBTQIA, bisexual, queer, etc.) and could be used and incorporated into the research. The transcription of the chat rather than simply the audio of stream could have also benefitted this study by eliciting further insights on the thoughts and interpretations of the audience vis-à-vis the safe-space discussion.

One of the main limitations of this article is the exclusive use of Twitch and Dead by Daylight as the two main sources for data. Any other game could be used, and other platforms such as TikTok could be explored for safe-space content. Additional limitations include the number of games and/or streamers selected via tags. Other LGBTQ related tags exist on Twitch (e.g., LGBTQIA, bisexual, queer, etc.) and could be used and incorporated into the research. The transcription of the chat rather than simply the audio of stream could have also benefitted this study by eliciting further insights on the thoughts and interpretations of the audience vis-à-vis the safe-space discussion.

Positionality Statement

To take a quote from Adrienne Shaw (2015), probably the most preeminent scholar of the field of queer game studies: “My relationship with LGBTQ game studies is deeply personal. As a queer game player and scholar (and I mean queer as both a sexuality and a politic), I do not think I could approach games without queerness” (p. 86). I echo and relate to this sentiment. I am not only a gay man and queer gamer, but someone whose entire life has been built on a foundation of gaming. I think that it would be impossible for me to choose this topic and also separate my analysis from my identity as a gaymer. This is a beneficial stance, as many of the words analyzed in this article were only meaningful because I knew enough about queer culture and gaming culture to blend them together to ascertain meaning. To echo an excerpt from Streamer 3: “We have a bunch of PlayStation gamers, and then me, a gay.”

Suggestions for Future Research

As Hamilton et al. (2014) noted, people are drawn to the unique content of a streamer, and they like interacting with that streamer. While each streamer was randomly chosen for this study, all three streamers had a high following in the live stream, with much audience participation. Further research should investigate possible correlations within the gay community between the perceived attractiveness of a streamer and their level of support, particularly according to the views of hegemonic masculinity described by Lanzieri and Hildebrant (2011) and their study on gay male attractiveness. Alternatively, the Proteus Effect offers possible implications into how attractiveness factors into the approval of viewers watching streamers (Yee & Bailenson, 2007). As Pellicone and Ahn (2017) note, a streamer has to be “entertaining, likeable, and unique amid a very competitive and crowded field of fellow performers” (p. 4870). This would also warrant further studies on audience members and the inclusionary/exclusionary practices of streamers. As well, future studies should also look into the correlation between attractiveness and performance in terms of sexuality performance for adult streaming and pay-per-view websites. References to these websites came up frequently in the discussions by the streamers.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests and Funding

The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. No funding was used to conduct this study.

Data Availability Statement

The data underlying this article cannot be shared publicly due to the privacy of individuals that were included in this study. The data will be shared on reasonable request to the corresponding author.

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