A Job Opening In Games Journalism? Why Bother Applying?
Wanted: Games Writer at Polygon. Your competition? Everyone you've ever met.
I’ve been looking for work in media for the past couple weeks now. Particularly games journalism. And, surprise, surprise, it’s been a complete waste of my fucking time.
Take a look at the positions available on the "Video Games Journalism Jobs" site. As of this article, six are posted. Four of them are unpaid.
Of the two positions that offer compensation, both are freelance, and one of them is only offering three to five pounds per SEO article. That’s nowhere near a livable wage for the work involved in researching, fact-checking, and writing a search engine-optimized work of games journalism. But hey, if you’re that desperate, go get it! Five pounds to write 1,000 words about the best Tokyo Ghoul characters. What a steal!
What else is out there, you might ask? Well, you can contribute SEO content to GAMURS’ Dot Esports, but the job listing on Indeed only promises "$16 to $90 USD per article," which is kinda low (not to mention "pay rates may vary for international candidates based on location”). If that doesn’t sound so hot, you could try Game Rant or Hardcore Gamer at Valnet, but, like GAMURS, that network is equally known for paying freelance writers at low rates for SEO churn.
No good, right? Yeah. The good news is that you can still land some respectable freelance gigs in the games journalism industry. Maybe some steady work contributing guides at IGN, or you can write a feature story here and there for PC Gamer. Maybe you know the folks at Paste Games and they want you to write for them now and then. Or perhaps Wired is open to a reported games feature (and hey, Condé Nast pays nicely!). It helps to know people, and if you have experience, you likely know enough people to get some money into your bank account as a freelancer. With a little hard work and a lot more luck.
But freelancing is stressful. What about a job? You know, something that will let you go to the doctor and retire one day? Well, just like our friends on the game dev side of things, games journalism is a mess right now. Every other publication has shuttered and laid off staff. Those that remain are just barely getting by, with a tightened budget that has little room to budge (translation: no new hires, sorry!). Even GAMURS and Valnet aren’t looking for many full-time positions on the content side of things, instead electing to largely contract freelancers to write content these days.
There are basically three ways you can land a full-time position in games journalism at the moment:
You know somebody, and there’s an opening somewhere. You’re basically perfect for the role, everyone loves you, and you get the job
You sent in a job application from the cold. And by the mercy of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (hallelujah), you somehow impressed an editor, middle manager, or managing editor / EIC enough to get chosen. This is the job equivalent of rolling a nat d20. Buy a lottery ticket
You already have a job, and, realizing games journalism fucking sucks, continue to stay at your current job. Congratulations, you have a job
In short, if you work in games journalism and are out of a job right now, you are fucked. Also, if you currently have a miserable job in games journalism but enjoy eating food, you are fucked. Yes, there are permalance positions, part-time gigs, and you can staple a bunch of ragtag freelance invoices together into something that resembles a just-taxable-enough income.
But something that will give you health insurance and a W-2? Those exist in very short supply, and games journalists that have them are hanging onto them for dear life. Because, just like the rest of us, they know the job market is abysmal. That the rest of us are hungry for a break.
So when a job does open? It’s in high demand. Very, very high demand.
On Aug. 28, Vox’s Polygon opened a Games Writer role at the site. Senior reporter Nicole Carpenter was the first to announce the news on Twitter, right before 6pm New York time. Five and a half hours later, there are 30 replies and over a dozen quote tweets. Most are either comments from interested games journalists, Twitter users tagging potential writers, or non-American applicants discussing their interest in applying (and subsequent disappointment, as the position appears to be limited to U.S. applicants). I expect more responses as the work week continues.
Now, I need to stress. Applying to work at Polygon would be competitive in any environment, even a bustling games journalism industry. Polygon is over a decade old now, and it is one of the most high profile media sites in the Western games journalism industry. Translation: Working at the ‘gon is exciting, pushes careers forward, and looks good on any resume. It’s a plum position.
It’s also the last of its kind, a relic from the 2010s where a full-time writer was expected to contribute what’s required on the news and SEO beat, but was also allowed to contribute reported stories and opinion columns on subjects they were personally passionate about. Working at Polygon today, in other words, means reaching for a dying past and grabbing onto it. It also means securing a future on the road ahead in media and games, wherever that may be.
And did I mention the pay? Most games journalists make awful salaries. My first salary was in the $40k range; I’ve met writers who wrote full-time in the U.S. for lower. Vox, meanwhile, states the Games Writer position’s range is $70,000 to $77,000. To give you a frame of reference, when I was a Managing Editor at GAMURS, I started at $65k. By the time I left, I worked as an Editorial Strategist, where I was paid $68k. I have never made that much money in my life before, and I suspect I never will again.
In short, Polygon offers the opportunity to earn the highest paycheck most games journalists will ever receive in games, all while getting some very nice perks (like making sure your teeth don’t fall out thanks to dental insurance!).
This further expands the competition in a market where jobs are already rare. Everyone wants a shot at the ‘gon. The gainfully employed. The not-so-gainfully employed. The miserably unemployed. The weary vet (“back in my day, The Escapist had Yahtzee…”). And yes, the desperate freelancer who really, really needs this job to make rent.
In short, every other person in games journalism is applying to work at Polygon before the job application window closes on Sept. 11.
“Good luck in the hunger games lmao,” a friend of mine, Overwatch League reporter Liz Richardson, wrote over Discord. “I’m tempted to apply but I can’t even imagine the competition.”
I’ll admit, I was curious about this job. It sounded like a good fit for me. I even reached out to Carpenter (an old friend and former coworker) about working at Polygon these days, and anything else worth knowing about the job.
But it only took me a few hours to decide not to apply for this job. Because, simply put, I already know I am not going to hear back for an interview.
I’m going to let you in on a secret about the media industry. In 10 years, I have written many cover letters and many resumes for full-time jobs. I’ve never heard back for any of them. Not once. Despite being a prolific writer, reporter, and even a published author, no one has asked me to chat for a call. No interest from Jezebel. None from Motherboard. Gizmodo? HA. Just a rejection email.
In media, I have only ever secured a full-time job through networking and connections. Every single time, I either freelanced somewhere and was (somewhat informally) offered a job, or I had a prior connection that resulted in an (equally informal) invitation to come on full-time. For most games journalists, this is the norm, and it will almost certainly dissuade many of my colleagues from applying to Polygon. Not enough to temper the sheer number of applicants this job will get. But it’s certainly lowered expectations for myself, as well as many of my colleagues.
“I'd also like to note that I genuinely think I'd have a better chance if I WAS in an arena with weapons at this point,” Richardson told me.
That said, if this was the only obstacle I faced, I would still apply for the Polygon job anyway. But it’s not. I know why I have never received an interview before after sending out a job application. Even for roles where I was a perfect match. It’s because the cards are stacked against me as a trans woman.
Let’s be real. It’s very hard to get hired in games journalism as a trans woman. Most trans women are simply not brought on as full-time hires at games journalism publications; most mastheads are painstakingly cisgender. The higher you go, the more cis and straight it all looks.
I mean, yes, I do know trans women who have landed full-time work in games journalism, including high level positions in management and/or writing for major publications. But most of these trans women in games media were recommended for the role because someone personally vouched for them. Or maybe they were already working at a publication and transitioned. Or maybe someone knew someone and said, “hey, consider this writer, we’re moots on Twitter and she’s sweet. Trust me.” Among other reasons, if not a mixture of all of these.
What makes more sense? Blowing a whole day preparing a resume that will never land me an interview? Or recording an audio where I pretend to be a giant woman that eats people, because it will help me make a couple hundred dollars this month?
For those who are in no such position (openly out, have few connections for a job, and/or have no one to vouch for them except angry trolls on Twitter), most trans women face an enormous, transmisogynistic glass ceiling in games journalism. Everyone wants to pay us for a hot take or a feature story about trans stuff, but very few hiring managers want to bring us into their workplaces. Or rather, they tend to relate more to the cis people that apply, while treating trans women as angry, passionate one-off contributors who can write a good feature about all that culture war stuff, but aren’t worth the salary cost.
Whorephobia has similarly held me back. That is to say, I believe the fact I am actively doing sex work means a games journalism publication is less likely to hire me.
It’s strange, because this was not always the case. Once, my experience as a sex worker was a vital career asset. Back when I was a reporter specializing in online censorship, sex workers’ rights, and sex tech, being a sex worker was a career benefit. It was a sign that I knew what I was talking about: I offered lived experience, intuition, and a digital “gonzo journalist” vibe that made me trustworthy in and out of the sex working community. It’s one reason why, again, I was able to write a book, invited to do talks for universities, and so on.
Now, writing about adult content, sex work, and online sexuality is seen as taboo, as Google may ding a domain covering these topics. So my experience as a sex worker is an additional professional liability, at least in the eyes of your average civilian. Why risk bringing on a sex worker? What kind of baggage does she bring?
This pains me, because I’m proud of my work in the adult industry. Immediately after leaving GAMURS, I became an adult VTuber, an 18+ voice actor, an adult scriptwriter, and an NSFW video journalist. I create fetish content where I roleplay as a giant woman, and I create TF/F audio erotica for lesbians. It’s very rewarding, my content is rather popular in both niches, and my initial success has given me a pathway forward for a long-term future as an adult content creator. But I also need additional income to support my career, as rookie lewdtubing only pays a couple hundred a month. Hence the job search.
But fuck, how am I going to support my current career when my prior industry is on fire? I turned to media to support me, and I was ready to work a 9-to-5 again. But a full-time job? It’s nowhere to be found in games. I’ve found more monetary success taking commissions where I roleplay things I’d rather not share in mixed company.
I feel like giving up on the job hunt. Because I sit there and wonder, well, do I have the cards stacked against me? Do people avoid interviewing me because I’m a trans woman? Do they throw me onto the reject pile because I’m a sex worker? Now that I’m more openly advertising my adult content, I suspect my career path as an adult VTuber will prevent me from ever working a full-time job in media again. Especially games media. Because I am read as too controversial, too risky, too unprofessional, all for being an opinionated trans woman that educates other trans women about sex, that creates adult artwork for a queer audience, that thinks sex isn’t something to be ashamed of.
This has sat with me for a long time now. Because I look at all the past rejections I’ve faced, and how the only path forward for me in media is, once again, hitting up old connections and former colleagues for freelance opportunities, the lion’s share unrelated to games journalism. I’m blessed to have that luck, to have those opportunities, to be clear. But when it comes to applying for a job at a dream publication, doing something I’d legitimately love? Well, I know it’s a waste of precious time, energy, and resources. I know I will inevitably lose to someone more well known in games journalism, better connected to Polygon, or just more respectable as a candidate.
So, dear reader. What makes more sense? Blowing a whole day preparing a resume and cover letter that will never land me a first-round interview? Or recording an audio where I pretend to be a giant woman that eats people, because it will help me make a couple hundred dollars this month?
I think the answer is obvious. Giant woman it is. Let’s get this bred.