“Pretty obvious what the writers intended”: Strategies for non-binary representations among video games characters
by Robin ZingarelliAbstract
Over the last couple of decades, video games started slowly introducing representations of queer subjectivities in terms of both gender identity and sexual and romantic orientation. However, the number of gender-non-conforming characters in video games -- including those that are playable and significant to the game arcs -- is rather scarce. Even more importantly, binary and cis-normative trans identities greatly outnumber non-binary ones. This article offers an overview of how non-binary characters tend to be represented and introduced in video games, focusing on the use of gender-neutral pronouns and the explicit or implicit mention of characters’ non-binary gender identity. Three main types of character introduction are recognized and discussed: 1) representation through omission, 2) explicit in-game mention of gender-neutral pronouns, 3) explicit in-game mention of gender identity (often together with pronouns). Overall, non-binary representations are often subtly portrayed, obtained through the erasure of gendered elements rather than the affirmation of one’s gender identity, and often done in paratextual elements or in in-game menus rather than through dialogues or storylines. Although the examples provided attest an increase in gender non-conforming characters, characterized especially by using they/them pronouns, representations of non-binary characters remain constrained to the subtle implication of their identity rather than to its acknowledgment. This contributes to practices of symbolic annihilation (Gerbner & Gross, 1976) and the flattening of non-binary experiences instead of their affirming inclusion.
Keywords: non-binary identity; queer; pronouns; queer baiting; representation
Introduction
Praised for its inclusion of queer themes, the video game Hades (Supergiant Games, 2020) introduced explicitly queer-coded characters and dating mechanics to its rouge-like gameplay, allowing players to pursue love interests of any gender. Among these examples, one of the fan-favorites is Chaos, the embodiment of the primordial void, due to their intriguing, unobvious design that combines stereotypical masculine and feminine traits. Their characterization is not unequivocal. Chaos’ voice is made up of many different voices with various pitches, to both emphasize the deity status and further obscure their gender. The character is described in the game with they/them pronouns, but there is no direct explanation of their gender identity -- the word “non-binary” is never used in the official descriptions of the character, nor is it mentioned in the in-game dialogue.
This ambivalence led some players to seek confirmation of Chaos’ gender on forums dedicated to the game. On Steam, one user posed the question of whether Chaos is, in fact, canonically non-binary. This question has gained a response from user Mystic Myotis, who wrote “‘They’ is the pronoun used to refer to Chaos, too. Pretty obvious what the writers intended” (Steam Community, 2020).
This exchange is exemplary of certain design patterns that I have frequently noticed in the representation (or general lack thereof) of non-binary characters in video games, especially in how their non-normativity is often implied rather than specified. Undoubtedly, video games have come a long way in terms of representing marginalized identities since Adrienne Shaw pointed out how stereotypical and limited representation of queer characters was in the medium in 2009. Thanks to the focus on inclusivity and accessibility, especially in independent and cozy video games, several titles now include a greater range of diverse characters, from non-normative sexual and romantic orientation to gender identity (Shaw & Friesem, 2016; Utsch et al., 20107; Thach, 2021). That said, it is difficult to ignore the fact that homonormative gay characters (i.e., those that adhere to the hegemonic values and seek and form monogamous, romantic relationships) are represented much more often than those that fall outside such categories, such as asexual, aromantic and non-binary (Dym, Brubaker, & Fiesler, 2018; Welch, 2018; GLAAD, 2024; 2025).
In their quantitative research of the queer representation in games released between 1985 and 2005, Shaw with colleagues noted that in “terms of gender/sex categories, nonbinary and intersex characters remain relatively underrepresented, whereas gender nonconforming and transgender representation have generally increased over time. Gender and sex diversity, however, is radically less present than sexual diversity in games” (2019, p. 1556). Since then, a handful of scholars have written on transgender representation, also highlighting how, when transgender characters are present, they are often portrayed as odd or stereotypical instead of being more accurately described and developed (Ruberg, 2019; Thach, 2021). These inquiries have shown a general growth of transgender representation in games but are often seen in conjunction with an oversimplification of the transgender experience, aimed primarily at a cis-normative audience (Kosciesza, 2023). Maybe most importantly, even in comparison with trans representation, very little has been so far written about non-binary identities.
With this article, I want to document the presence of non-binary characters in narrative video games using verbal signifiers, as labels and pronouns, to refer to their identity. While acknowledging that more video games do include characters who use neutral pronouns (often they/them), representation of non-binarity remains insufficient. On the one hand, the characters tend to play minor roles with little influence on the story, possibly falling into the role of token characters [1] (Moss Kanter, 1977). On the other hand, most of the non-binary characters in video games suffer from what I call representation by omission, as they are defined by the absence of gender signifiers rather than by the explicit affirmation of their identity. In these cases, such as in the aforementioned case of Chaos in Hades, a character’s gender is never explicitly mentioned, and players are supposed to infer it based on the fact the character is referred to through they/them pronouns. This practice simplifies experiences of non-binary persons, not all of whom use the same pronouns in the same way but also places the emotional labor and responsibility for understanding the characters as non-binary on the players, rather than the developers.
Non-binary: defining terms
Given the nuances in terms, it appears necessary to provide an overview of what the term “non-binary” entails. Being among the spectrum of gender diverse identities, the word non-binary is often conflated with the umbrella category of being transgender, as both terms describe an individual who moves away from their gender assigned at birth (Stryker, 2017). The word transgender, however, often describes individuals who tend to identify more strongly with a binary gender between man and woman (Darwin, 2017). “Non-binary” describes an identity that comprises both masculinity and femininity or goes beyond such terms (Darwin, 2017; Monro, 2019). As with many identities within the LGBTQAI+ family, the boundaries between them are not sharp, and they can overlap. Some individuals define themselves as both transgender and non-binary, while others might strictly identify with the binary opposite gender, or identify exclusively as trans or non-binary (Darwin, 2020).
Matsuno and Budge define non-binary as “several gender identity groups, including (but not limited to): (a) an individual whose gender identity falls between or outside male and female identities, (b) an individual who can experience being a man or woman at separate times, (c) an individual who does not experience having a gender identity or reject having a gender identity” (2017, pp. 116-117). While showing the broad spectrum of gender experiences for people identifying as non-binary, Matsuno and Budge do not mention the sub-identities encompassed in the non-binary umbrella term such as genderfluid (partially corresponding to point b) and agender (point c). Both terms can be useful to broaden the experience of non-binary identities. The first, genderfluid, describes somebody whose gender fluctuates between masculinity and femininity, and the latter, agender, refers to an individual who does not have a sense of their own gender (Richards et al., 2016).
Non-binary identities are multiple and diverse, comprising several experiences under their umbrella, and loosely relate to transgender identities in the sense that non-binary individuals also experience a shift from their gender assigned at birth. This is further complicated by the fact that such definitions are subject to cultural identities, historical shifting and negotiations within hegemony (Halberstam, 2018). Such complexity is seldom presented in scripted representations in entertainment media, including video games -- spaces where even queer and transgender representations struggle to be positively included.
Non-binary representation in the media
In the last couple of decades, transgender and queer studies started interrogating the presence of gender diverse representation in the media, through common tropes and in their possible implications and consequences for transgender and queer communities. Billard has proposed an extensive and critical study of transgender representations on the TV screen, reflecting on the reduction of transgender characters to cisgender models and the need for new, more accurate forms of representations (2016; 2019). Others, such as Bell-Metereau (2019) and Ford (2021), have analyzed the evolution of transgender characters in movies, highlighting the subversive potential of including their narratives. Studies have focused also on the presence of tropes regarding trans and gender non-conforming identities. Richardson and Smith have recognized two main tropes of trans representation focusing on trans women: a “pathetic trans” “who is easily read as the gender they were assigned at birth” and “the highly successful trans body, who does hyper-femininity, but who is therefore coded as predatory threat” (Richardson & Smith, 2022, p. 10). Such analysis has brought to a critical discourse on cisgender interpretations of trans experiences that often tend to flatten transgender identities to binary genders (Capuzza & Spencer, 2017; Abbott 2022) instead of portraying how complex and nuanced navigating transness is (Halberstam, 2019).
Among the representation of gender non-conforming identities, non-binary representation both in media and in scholarly research is gradually expanding, albeit slowly. According to the 2023-2024 and 2024-2025 report by GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation), non-binary character representation has grown, with the group making as much as 2% (2024-2025) to 5% (2023-2024) of queer characters present across broadcasting media. Despite this growth, numbers remain low and are often further challenged by the lack of transparency or emphasis on the gender identity of the characters. This reluctance is proportionally reflected in academic focus on non-binary media research. Among the exceptions, Blanco-Fernàndez, Villegas-Simón, and Soto-Sanfiel (2024) analyze the presence of non-binary representation in television fiction in Spain. Interestingly, the authors describe how the representation of non-binary identity is obtained through a combination of traits attributed either to men or women and through gender ambiguity, rather than an open acknowledgment of the character’s gender identity.
Even in literary studies, non-binary representation is rarely discussed, despite literature being a space where queer representation often thrives, due to the vastness of the medium, the accessibility of writing and the emergence of fan-based practices (Hemmann, 2018; Dym, Brubaker, & Fiesler, 2018; Floegel, 2020). Henderson (2022) analyzes non-binary protagonists in young adult fiction published between 2017 and 2020, focusing on the language used to describe the character’s sense of gender, experiences of euphoria and dysphoria, their relationship with the broader queer community and how queerness intersects with their identities. Henderson argues that in young adult fiction, pronoun choices are explicitly discussed in conversation with other characters (in case the protagonists describe themselves in the first person) or by the external narrator. In some cases, the use of they/them pronouns is the only indicator of non-conforming and possibly non-binary gender identity. Henderson notes how the most common way in which being non-binary is indicated in young adult novels is that the character informs us of their gender identity (2022).
Gender non-conforming identities in video games
A similar absence is attested in research around non-binary identities or even gender non-conforming identities in video games. While significant publications started to focus on queer and LGBTQAI+ representation and players’ queer identities in the late 2010s (e.g., Shaw, 2015; Ruberg & Shaw, 2017; Shaw et al. 2019), only a handful of publications explicitly focused on transgender narratives, characters, and reception among transgender players (Baldwin, 2018; Thach, 2021; McKenna et al., 2024). At the time of writing, non-binary identities are primarily noted in publications concerned with gender-non-conforming representation -- which explains why I rely on research focusing on transgender characters instead. In this regard, Thach (2021) proposed the first taxonomy of in-game transgender characters by identifying the overarching trends of trans representation, showing that these characters are often depicted through their experiences of dysphoria and physical transition (such as being portrayed through the “wrong body” narrative), as mentally ill killers (where transness is the reason for their instability), through trans shock or reveal (e.g., the reveal of their “true” gender meant to surprise the player), and as ambiguous (in which games leave out explicit information about gender) (2021, p. 20). Kosciesza (2023) has further observed how transgender characters are rarely explored to their full potential and are instead employed for the sole purpose of supporting a cisgender protagonist.
Overall, trans representation in media suffers greatly from what is often referred to as “the paradox of trans visibility which highlights portions of transgender existence while obscuring others -- making it seem that society has progressed much further toward genderqueer tolerance than it realistically has” (Berberick, 2018, p. 123). Non-binary presence in the same discourses is still vastly missing. As a consequence, it would be impossible to recognize the same roles or tropes as in the case of transgender characters. One of the few exceptions in terms of analysis of non-binary representations in video games is provided by Lacey (2023), who argues that non-binary representations bring more challenges than transgender binary representations: as video games are embedded in our cultural systems, the expectation of gender binarity is difficult to escape. Lacey reports that there are a limited number of ways in which non-binary characters are introduced: as pronoun options for the player character and through androgynous design that can be interpreted as queer by the audiences, particularly if authored by game-makers who identify as non-binary themselves (2023).
Queer readings, queer baiting and symbolic annihilation
While discussing audience studies is beyond the scope of this article, I believe it is necessary to highlight how queer representation happens within a participatory culture in a continuous conversation between players and game-makers (Jenkins, 2006). This is particularly relevant for queer audiences, who have a long history of engaging in amatorial artistic production as fanart or fanfictions inspired by otherwise often heteronormative franchises to explore alternative and queer storylines (Dym, Brubaker, & Fiesler, 2018; Hemmann, 2018).
The introduction of any queer identities, including non-binary identities, happens within practices of negotiation between marginalized groups and creators, in which often queer themes are introduced through subtle references instead of open acknowledgments. Such practices may fall into the definition of queerbaiting, defined as “baiting” fans with the promise of queer contents but not meeting such expectations (McDermott, 2021). Such a definition can be applied both to the practice of alluding to representation without providing it, and toward media that leave interpreting a character’s gender up to the audience (Brennan, 2018; McDermott 2018). According to McDermott (2021), queerbaiting is often employed by fans to distinguish between positive and negative practices or representation. Sánchez-Soriano & García-Jimenéz (2020) observe that queerbaiting is often employed for financial gains instead of offering a genuine supportive stance for queer representation. They describe queerbaiting and pinkwashing (the forced introduction of female characters) as “marketing strategies […] to be perceived as tolerant industries regarding sexual diversity and thus attract LGBT+ audiences” (p. 96). The authors focus on practices that employ diversity within marketing stages but rely heavily on heteronormativity in the final product, emphasizing subtextual elements rather than representation (2020). Given the responsibility left exclusively to fan interpretation, queerbaiting can be considered an exploitative practice, rarely done in the interest of the represented marginalized group, and incurring in the risk of misrepresentation (Woods & Hardman, 2022). Queerbaiting also represents the complex balance of navigating between diverse audiences and sensibilities. This is particularly relevant in video games, where queer subjectivities often must negotiate their inclusion with a hostile and male-dominated community (Massanari, 2017), thus relying on the positionality of players to provide queer readings and interpretations (Shaw, 2015; Dym, Brubaker, & Fiesler, 2018; Hemmann, 2018).
The often subtle introduction of queer identities contributes to their erasure within the broader media representation. In so doing, such practices echo the concept of symbolic annihilation as explored by Gerbner & Gross (1976): the absence of representations of a specific group of individuals in the media as a way of reinforcing the status quo of the dominant group and the inequality between the dominant and the marginalized groups. Symbolic annihilation can be defined as the erasure of the social existence of a given group by removing their representation in fictional worlds, contributing to their invisibility. In this way, it actively impedes hegemonic subjectivities to get in touch with marginalized categories, promoting a culture in which such marginalized groups are absent (Gerbner & Gross, 1976). The absence of non-binary identities mirrors their lack of recognition in legal frameworks, but also in practical debates, where they often provide a site for contestation rather than a locus for mutual understanding (Monro, 2017).
In what follows, I argue that video games are part of this representational landscape and non-binary identities may offer a particular example of queerbaiting and symbolic annihilation.
Strategies for non-binary representations
Having recognized the scarcity of research on non-binary representation in audiovisual media in general, I survey the status of non-binary representations in video games specifically, with particular attention to the use of verbal signifiers, as non-binary and gender-neutral pronouns and explicit reference to gender identity. The reason behind this lies within the theoretical premises of subtlety in queer representation in general and in non-binary representation in particular. Focusing on verbal signifiers that indicate one character’s gender identity allows for an overview of some of the design strategies employed to introduce non-binary genders in NPCs in video games. To provide such overview, I have familiarized myself with databases containing non-binary and gender-non-conforming representations in video games: the LGBTQ Game Archive (Shaw, n.d.) and Wikipedia’s List of Fictional Non-Binary Characters (Video Games) (Wikipedia contributors, n.d.), other than examples that I got to know through my own experience as a player.
This selection purposefully excludes video games that present the entirety of NPCs as genderless or genderfluid, or all their characters as such (as in Hollow Knight, Team Cherry, 2017), as the aim of this article is to look at ways of rendering non-binary representation in game worlds where a gender system is presented. Similarly, and particularly in the case of the LGBTQ Game Archive, I have decided to exclude representations of gender ambiguous characters in video games produced before the 2010s, as they pre-date the emergence of the scholarly and public debate around non-binary identities (Monro, 2019) and possibly refer to more vague conceptualizations of gender non-conformity.
From this selection, I have analyzed the characters discussed in this archive and the verbal indicators employed to refer to them. I focused on which pronouns are employed for each character, and whether their gender identity is confirmed in paratextual elements or through in-game menus (instead of within the game dialogues or other narrative elements). I focused on the use of gender-neutral pronouns (most often, they/them), on the use of gender-neutral names, on paratextual elements surrounding the specific character emerging from both the original creators and players and, most importantly, on whether the characters in question specifically address their gender identity in game -- coming to terms with the subject or positioning themselves as non-binary through game dialogues or menu items. I have considered a total of 19 characters from 10 different video games that are discussed as non-binary across various video game genres and productions. While the list is not exhaustive, and possibly more examples particularly within the independent sector may be included, it provides a starting point to reflect on some of the common design strategies to represent non-binary identities.
From my analysis, stem three main strategies of introducing the characters that are usually considered non-binary follow: (a) representation through omission, (b) the explicit mention of in-game pronouns (but without specification of gender identity) and (c) the explicit mention of both pronouns and gender identity. Through this work, my aim is to provide a starting point for mapping an under-researched phenomenon, observing some of the key strategies employed to signaling non-binary identities. Further research is needed to elucidate other key points that lie within the employment of non-binary identities, including the history of the phenomenon, the prevalence of specific game genres, aesthetic choices, the relationship with non-binary players and in general audience reactions -- all aspects that could highlight the emergence of other design interventions and interpretative frameworks.
Representation Through Omission
Where the other two categories can be regarded as explicit or covert representation, representation through omission focuses on characters that are described by the absence of references to their gender. This practice usually refers to characters who employ gender neutral pronouns (most commonly: they/them), encouraging the players to read them as non-binary and assign them such identity. In several cases, their non-binary identity is not provided within their primary text but is confirmed in paratextual elements, often at a later stage. This is the case for the Hades character Chaos (Supergiant Games, 2020), whose identity is not confirmed in the game, but whose characterization makes it “pretty obvious what the writers intended,” making the character’s identity canon within the fan communities. This category includes characters who seem to have been designed as non-binary (e.g., through ambiguous or androgynous features, outfits, mannerisms), but the announcement of the identity occurred outside of their primary text.
Other than Chaos, a notable example is Apex Legends’s (Respawn Entertainment 2019) Bloodhound, who is seen wearing an armor and a mask that covers their entire body, thus obscuring all the details that would allow one to identify them as masculine or feminine. This presentation is further complicated by the association of bulkier outfits with masculinity (while femininity is associated with tighter and more revealing outfits), which seems to suggest male identity, while the identity of Bloodhound’s voice actress, Allegra Clark, who is a cisgender woman, pointed towards femininity. Finally, in 2021 both Clark and Jay Frechette, a community manager for Respawn Entertainment, confirmed the character's non-binary gender via Twitter posts (Jackman, 2019).
A series of examples of representation through omission appear particularly relevant as they point towards an association occurring between gender ambiguity and Otherness -- first, when a character is a child (or child-like) and second when they are not human. Video games such as Undertale (Toby Fox, 2015) and OneShot (Future Cat, 2016) feature childlike characters of unspecified genders -- a design decision that can be seen as a direct response to the high saturation of the market with games (especially mainstream) with male protagonists. Both these games bear many similarities, with OneShot clearly influenced by Undertale. Both are experimental, fourth wall-breaking games that call the player out on their expectation that they will always be in control of a game. Both feature an innocent, childlike player-controlled protagonist on a mission and an evil entity (Flowey in the former and simply “the Entity” in the latter) who directly address the player, positioning themselves as the ones who know the gameworld and the rules governing it, and subverting the player’s sense of agency. Both protagonists, the human Frisk in Undertale and the cat-like Niko in OneShot, are purposefully innocent and even naive, creating a context in which the player feels obligated to take care of them (Waszkiewicz, 2020). This seems to be additionally emphasized by the lack of details provided about the characters and their gender identity. Frisk’s name is revealed quite late in Undertale, and the purposeful omission of their genders allows for a stronger bond between the character and the player. This is emphasized by how the game acknowledges this character is a stand-in for the player, not merely a diegetic character, who is responsible for the moral choices made within the game. In both games, the characters are referred to with they/them pronouns and have paratextual confirmation that this choice was deliberate (Wikipedia contributors, n.d.). Still, there is no direct, in-game recognition that either character is “non-binary,” but rather both games avoid gender descriptors to maintain a sense of ambiguity.
Problematic implications may arise when the representation available of arguably non-binary characters is done through omission of either of their gender attributes entirely or through a lack of acknowledgement about their gender identity. It seems to create an association between non-binary (or non-defined) genders as non-sexual and, eventually, non-human. When discussing practices of designing characters in such a way as to appeal to women, as the video game industry was opening itself to women and girl players, Chess notes how developers created an aesthetic that had “visually lush and full of rounded, almost cartoonish elements” (2017, p. 48). When discussing the principles of game design, she notes that “in appealing to women, it is important not only to have female characters but also to keep those characters from being overtly sexualized… game designers suggest that one mode of bypassing sexualization and bodies is to make avatars or non-player characters animal rather than human. Using cute animal styles feeds into the[se] aesthetic concerns… while remaining gender-inclusive by all accounts” (p. 50). When video game characters start to blur the line between the characters who are non-binary with those that are sweet, fluffy, friendly and safe, it not only creates an association between a lack of gender and the quality of being unthreatening, but also signals the opposite: that non-binarity, if rendered explicitly, is threatening and problematic.
It is important to note that the representation of the sexual and gendered Other as non-human is not an uncommon occurrence in other media, with particularly science-fiction (SF) genres being populated by androgynous cyborgs and asexual aliens. Science fiction has long been recognized as a genre that confronts the readers with how queerness and normativity are usually perceived and taken for granted. Many of the earliest experimentations with how gender is presented can be found in works of SF writing (e.g., Hollinger, 1999; Pearson, 1999a; 1999b; Pearson, Hollinger & Gordon; 2008). As a consequence, often the Other has been portrayed as explicitly non-human, namely most commonly alien or robot/android. This is a relevant trope especially when concerning real-world identities and qualities that are faced with the most prejudice and misunderstanding like asexual and aromantic identities (Brandley & Dehnert, 2023; Kurowicka, 2023) or androgyny (Annas, 1978; Bergstrom, 1986; McCormack, 1983; Šporčič, 2018). Such identities are all defined by absence -- of sexual or romantic desire or of stereotypically feminine and masculine features or mannerisms. Non-binarity as an absence of features recognized stereotypically as masculine or feminine seems to fall within the same category.
The practice of introducing non-defined characters could be interpreted as queerbaiting. The author, in this way, relies exclusively on the player's subjectivity and sensitivity to introduce queer elements, rather than promoting affirming and explicit representation, thus placing the responsibility for queer representation vastly on players without alienating audiences that might be drawn against openly non-binary representations in the medium.
Explicit in-game mention of pronouns (without specifying gender)
The second strategy of representing non-binary identities that I identified is the representation through in game pronouns without specifying gender. One of the most notable examples in this sense is the video game Monster Prom (Beautiful Glitch, 2018), along with its sequels and DLCs. The series is often praised for the incorporation of they/them pronouns for the pre-designed characters that can be chosen by the players and for offering characters that vary in body size, aesthetics and gender identity (Waszkiewicz, 2021). The player can choose out of the three pronouns for their own characters (he, she, or they), but most importantly non-player characters (NPCs) also have diverse pronouns -- a rare feature. For example, Zoe, who becomes a romanceable character and is a purple monster with tentacles for a right arm and hair, is a trans woman who was an octopus-like Eldrich monstrosity before transition that used it/its pronouns; Milo Belladonna, one of the love interests introduced in the game’s sequel, Monster Prom 2: Monster Camp (2020), is a (Grim) Reaper using they/them pronouns; and Sawyer, a lust demon introduced in a DLC to Monster Camp uses they/them pronouns.
Because both Monster Prom and Monster Camp are dating simulators, all romanceable characters are bi- or pansexual. The world of the game can be considered a queer utopia, that is, a “queer [space] where hegemonic heterosexist discourses cease to regulate bodies” (Jones, 2013, p. 3). Many of these characters are portrayed as pansexual or bisexual, making the player character's gender identity choice more cosmetic than practical. Both games allow players to choose a pronoun for one’s character as a means of making the experience more inclusive, ensuring their comfort when being referred to by NPCs rather than a way of focusing on the character’s identity. It is essential to point out, however, that the series’ strength lies in the diversity of its characters: with several of the non-player characters using they/them pronouns, the player does not feel othered. Non-binarity is not just an option available to the player, but it is a feature of the game world, making the world feel genuinely inclusive.
Another notable example of games that either belong to dating simulator genres or use its elements, is an indie match-3 game, Spirit Swap: LoFi Beats to Match-3 To (Soft Not Weak 2025), an indie puzzle-adventure that mixes match-3 puzzles with a dating sim and features a cast of diverse characters (in terms of skin color, body type and gender). The game introduces its characters as having double pronouns: e.g., the protagonist Samar uses they/she, and other characters employ different sets of pronouns, such as Pookie (he/they), Leon and Iskandar (they/he), Mo, Kedsi and Theo (she/they) [2]. Similarly, another dating simulator is Validate: Struggling Singles in Your Area (Veritable Joy Studios, 2022), which introduces Emhari Abdi with two sets of pronouns (she/her and he/him). The use of more than just they/them variant emphasizes the variety of gender identities under the non-binary umbrella.
It is worth noting that the video games that I found that feature variants in respect to they/them pronouns to signify non-binary identities do not only relate to the genre of the dating sim, but explicitly appropriate cozy aesthetics, and bring forward a perspective that is radically different from the overwhelming presence of hegemonic masculinity within video games. Such choices highlight diverse body types, skin colors and gender identities. Even in this case, I want to stress that the introduction of non-binary characters exclusively through pronoun use is not without its consequences. Most importantly, it places a lot of interpretative responsibility on the player by not offering the explicit mention of their identity and it risks flattening the representation of non-binary individuals to a pronoun’s preference. While this is understandable from the design perspective, it inevitably creates another queer utopia by taking away an experience that, while usually unwelcome, tiring, or even triggering and traumatic due to its necessary repetitiveness, tends to be one of the most universal parts of non-binary and other queer experiences. Namely, that of constant and continuous coming-out, often paired with the mental and emotional labor connected to act of constant correcting others about one’s pronouns, or facing and fearing a lack of acceptance and understanding.
Omitting the word “non-binary” echoes the practice of the omission of the word “gay” or, even more so, “bisexual” in television, film and other media, commonly referred to as bisexual- or bi-erasure (Yescavage & Alexander, 2008). These practices create multiple situations in popular shows and films in which even the characters who are canonically queer often do not say that explicitly, instead implying so by hinting at their interest in persons of the same gender. In a similar way, the overrepresentation of characters who are only presented through their pronouns risks contributing to practices of queerbaiting. It is also relevant to note that the aforementioned examples often set their storylines in narratives that engage openly with queerness, monstrosity and otherness (Kretzschmar & Salter, 2020), contributing to the depiction of being non-binary as non-humanness.
Explicit mention of gender and pronouns
In video games, an explicit mention of a non-binary identity is so rare, that at the time of writing, there were only two explicit examples I was able to find, both from independent games. The first one is titled Frogsong (Frogteam Games 2023), in which the protagonist (who is, unsurprisingly, a frog) introduces themselves by saying, “I’m Chorus, I’m non-binary, and my pronouns are they/them!” The second one, Moonrise (Natalie Cannon, 2019), is a text-based dating simulator set in a fictional world interrelated with monstrosity and lycanthropy, that features Rosario, an explicitly non-binary pansexual person, who uses they/them pronouns and whose identity is openly acknowledged in the text.
The first, and so far, only, explicit introduction of the character in a mainstream game comes from the newest installment in BioWare’s RPG fantasy series, Dragon Age: The Veilguard (BioWare, 2024). The promise of game’s inclusivity and character diversity seemed to be strengthened by the reveal of Corinne Bushe’s, the game’s director, identity as a trans woman. While I will not focus here closer on the character customization, which also notably recognizes “non-binary” as the third gender option, the game provides a valuable and rare example of a character who is not only expressing their gender identity by naming it, but whose journey of self-discovery constitutes a crucial part of their story arc.
The dragon hunter Taash is one of the potential companions and romantic interests of the game’s protagonist, Rook. Born to a Qunari mother, who, while loyal to the ways of Qun -- people born to and devoted to the code of honor known as Qun -- took her child away from her people to save them from joining the military. Taash grew up around Rivaini culture while teaching Qun history and customs. This crisis of identity caused by attempts to find their place between two vastly different cultures lies at the basis of their story. While coming to terms with their cultural identity, Taash introduces the fact that they do not feel comfortable employing she/her pronouns and that they identify as non-binary. This is a very interesting case, as it is the first time in which a mainstream game presents a character that is not simply non-binary, but that is also transitioning within the narrative. As such, they have to face a series of challenges that mirror lived non-binary experiences such as changing your pronouns with your social group or facing difficult reactions from your family. However, fans have quickly criticized the fact “the cultural part of Taash’s identity ultimately comes down of a single binary choice that Rook makes during one of Taash’s personal quests [in which the player] can encourage Taash to embrace he Rivaini part of their culture or the Qunari part” (Coleman, 2024). Moreover, among the romanceable characters there are members of various races, including humans, elves and dwarves, such that Taash is visibly the Other. As Qunari, they look the least human, having characteristic traits of the race with white hair, metallic skin and goat-like horns. In this way, the character fits the long tradition of science-fiction and fantasy texts that equated alien otherness with non-normativity (Brandley & Dehnert, 2024) -- as also apparent in the other examples suggested.
I would emphasize that I do think there is a right or wrong way of depicting a non-binary individual in a video game when naming them explicitly. However, the presence of Taash and the portrayal of a narrative that is so entrenched within a binary choice highlights the need for more and more varied representation -- one that is affirming, but also that is not reducible to either omission, otherness, or oversimplification.
Conclusions
Representation of identities that are misunderstood and continuously met with prejudice, discrimination and even violence is an extremely sensitive subject. With mainstream video games being created in an environment that often comprises right-wing, conservative, white cisgender men, the majority of positive queer representation comes from independent creators -- and understandably so, considering the backlash that changes towards inclusivity have spurred among the more toxic fans (Chess & Shaw, 2015; Massanari, 2017).
The peculiarity of the video game medium often dictates how the gender non-conforming characters are introduced and presented, making them often NPCs, and offering only subtle information around their gender identity. The examples above show among the most recurring strategies either practice removing every gendered element -- with the risk of creating child-like or non-human like characters -- or practice employing pronouns without discussing gender identity. Examples of characters whose gender identity and pronouns are openly discussed and negotiated within the narrative were almost absent. It is also relevant to note that such representations more often occur within video games that fall under the independent umbrella. Such developers more frequently value the game designer’s self-expression and offer more experimental pieces. They often also rely on genres traditionally associated with queer storylines, such as visual novels (Beautiful Glitch, 2019; 2020). Within the observed trend, video games mirror strategies presented in other media, with non-binary representation revolving around androgyny and ambiguity and often emerging explicitly only in less mainstream media forms as young adult literature (Henderson, 2022; Blanco-Fernàndez, Villegas-Simón & Soto-Sanfiel, 2024). In doing so, the nuances involved with non-binary experiences (Matsuno & Budge, 2017) are often completely absent from in-game discussions and texts.
Reducing non-binary identities to pronouns is problematic for two main reasons: (1) there are a wide range of identities under the non-binary umbrella, and (2) there is a difficulty in defining specific pronouns as strictly non-binary. In English, they/them pronouns are the pronouns that are most commonly used for non-binary individuals, but some prefer neopronouns such as zie/hir, ze/zir, xe/xem, ey/em, or mixed pronoun sets like they/she or he/them. Additionally, many people’s pronoun use fluctuates over time. This risks reducing non-binary individuals to a single set of pronouns or experiences, proposing a flattened representation and contributing to the symbolic annihilation towards their identities. Moreover, as difficult as creating authentic, non-token and non-stereotypical representation is in general, it becomes downright impossible when we put all this expectation on a single character. It is not possible for one character to show the diversity of an experience, because an identity is never uniform: there is no one way to be a woman, a man, black, white, queer, or straight.
As the discussion in this article shows, inclusive representation cannot rely only on the medium’s users to take on the additional labor of deciphering or reading the texts a certain way. This becomes even more crucial when it comes to the identities that tend to be overlooked the most, leading to further misunderstanding, stereotypization and bias.
The absence of explicit non-binary identities in video games is another example of symbolic annihilation in the media: the systematic exclusion, trivialization, or distortion of marginalized groups, the perpetuating of their cultural invisibility and the reinforcing of biases (Gerbner & Gross, 1976). The limited representation of non-binary identities denies these individuals the validation and visibility that video games can provide, promoting misunderstanding and marginalization. Addressing this gap is essential for challenging broader societal norms that sustain these patterns of exclusion. A shift towards meaningful, nuanced representation of non-binary characters in video games would serve as a powerful counter to symbolic annihilation, affirming diverse identities and contributing to a more equitable and empathetic cultural landscape.
Acknowledgements
This article is the product of a collaboration with Dr. Agata Waszkiewicz. I am grateful beyond words for their brilliant insights, their guidance and their unending support.
Endnotes
[1] In the sense that was first introduced by Rosabeth Moss Kanter in the 1970s in the context of women’s work experiences, “tokenism” is a concept adopted to the discussions of the minimal representation of minorities (often racial or sexual) in film or television “as a representational practice premised on the visibility of ‘difference’” (Brayton, 2021, p. 28). In this sense, a singular non-white or queer character would be a token of diversity, shielding the producers from the accusation of prejudice.
[2] It is worth noting the use of “he/they” and “they/he” as two separate indicators of gender experiences, as the order in which the pronouns are placed could signify the user’s preference.
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