Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:

Last week we looked at the changing art style -- and heros -- of the Castlevania series. From manly to effeminate, they've run the range. But there's more to consider here than a pretty face.

First off, let's take a look at their weapon choice -- or at least their weapons as they're depicted in the official game art. Old-fashioned Castlevania heros, the ones with rippling muscle and leather attire, are almost always depicted with a whip in hand. Later heros, the ones with lacy frills and high cheek bones, seem to prefer other weapons, like swords.

Now, sometimes a weapon is just a weapon, but when it comes to the peculiar case of these super-masculine, super-feminine protagonists, the issue bears a little reading into. The obvious cry would be "Phallic symbol!" But really, what weapon isn't? Instead, the interesting question here is what are these phalluses are up to?

Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:

For Castlevania fans, it's hardly news that the series has undergone some serious shifts in art direction over the years. But with the recent release of the Castlevania retrospective art book -- a Portrait of Ruin pre-order bonus -- it's gotten easier to track just how much things have changed. From romance novel-esque to stunningly stylized to "Didn't I see this anime on Fox Kids?," Castlevania's art aesthetic, if not its gameplay, has covered a vast range. But it's not just the approach that's different, it's the characters themselves.

In the beginning, titles like Castlevania II featured heroes with rippling muscles, loincloths, and virile locks of coarse blond hair. In contrast to these manly men, protagonists from later games, like Symphony of the Night, became thin bishounen, elegantly dressed, with delicate and undeniably feminine features. Most recently though, Castlevania heroes have reclaimed some of their traditional manhood. The protagonist of Portrait of Ruin may have fancier duds than the he-men of earlier titles, but he's grown back his six pack, his unromanticized features, and his save-the-day blond bangs.

Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:

I have made a grave mistake.

Starting up a new game of Twilight Princess last week, I must have suffered a momentary lapse of sanity. I actually thought it would be a good idea -- just this once -- to change Link's name to my own. I'm the player, aren't I? Why shouldn't dialog text be addressed to me? I deserve some attention, too.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now every time someone speaks to young, heroic Link, they keep calling him "Bonnie." So far, he hasn't really seemed to notice, but it sure makes me feel funny. Girls sweetly bat their eyelashes and say my name. Men entrust me with complicated tasks without questioning whether I can complete them. It's just plain old weird.

Link runs, he jumps, he slashes things: everything he's always done. Except now he does it with a girl's name. In thirty seconds of poor judgment, I've made Link a name cross-dresser.

Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:

It's so easy, your girlfriend would play. Or your mother. Or your grandmother.

Last week at the 2006 Montreal International Games Summit, Reggie Fils-Aimé, president of Nintendo America -- super tall guy, and fun-with-Photoshop favorite -- gave a keynote on marketing the Wii. Besides being a general pep rally for the new console -- Nintendo beats Sony, rah rah rah! -- Reggie's talk stressed the Wii's ability to attract new gamers; specifically, Reggie mentioned older gamers, children, and women.

It's no shock that much fewer women play video games than men. So from a business standpoint, it makes sense that Nintendo would want to expand their sales into that new market. But whether the Wii and its PR are doing something "good" for the state of gaming equality, that's a whole other story.

Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:

Puppies are gay. Dancing is for homos. Even Link is a little queer.

"Gay" has become a strange, strange word. From happy to homosexual to stupid, it can mean many different things. But there's no ambiguity in an insult like "That's so gay" – the favorite homophobic tag line of defenders of the heterosexual norm. It's like a built-in security system: whatever doesn't fit in gets "outed."

Of course, there's no group that fits the heterosexual norm – young, male, straight – better than gamers. At least, that's how we're perceived, and often how we act: as a boys' club. We like big guns, fast cars, hot women. Maybe that's why we're so quick to attack games that lack traditional testosterone. Between forums, blogs, and general grumblings, gamers have declared everything from Nintendogs to Dance Dance Revolution to The Wind Waker (Bright colors? Queer!) "gay."

Rockstar's Bully, however, doesn't fit that list. It's not pretty, or cute. If you don't watch out, it might even beat you up for your lunch money. Like the Grand Theft Auto series before it -- and especially the oh-so-controversial, hidden hetero action in San Andreas -- it's a man's game. Which, perhaps, is why we're so surprised to learn that Bully, too, is "gay."

Every other week, Bonnie Ruberg contributes Playing Dirty, a column on sex and gender in video games:

"God knows what he does with himself, all alone. He's weird. I mean, he won't hang out with other kids. Probably plays video games."

Trapped in a barber's seat with my hair half cut, I'm listening to a forty-something hair stylist describe her new stepson. Maybe he sounds familiar: nice but shy, a little overweight, smart, into fantasy ("that dragon stuff"). Her son rides dirt bikes and has tons of friends. What the heck's wrong with this kid?

Note how the speculation about video games gets spat out with extra scorn. The most antisocial behavior this woman can think up for a twelve-year-old boy? The thing he does by himself, in his room, when nobody's around? Games. After all, it's his aptitude for flying solo that really bugs her. He's content to be by himself. Apparently there's something about that that's unnatural, even dirty.