There\u2019s a phenomenon in the Overwatch <\/em>community that has persisted through the original game\u2019s 2016 release, its gradual decline, and the launch of the sequel. This phenomenon is an interesting one, a sort of \u201cIYKYK\u201d situation that requires membership in a specific community in order to recognize its members: in Overwatch<\/em>, a lot of queer players choose to play as healers. Maybe you haven\u2019t noticed this\u2014maybe you\u2019re straight (I\u2019m sorry) and can\u2019t spot an alphabet army soldier in your lobby, but if you\u2019re in the LGBTQIA+ community and play Overwatch 2<\/em>, you know exactly what I\u2019m talking about.<\/p>\n

Mercy mains with rainbow player icons, Moira one-tricks wearing her Bowie skin<\/span>, two-stacks who instalock support with some iteration of \u201c-ussy\u201d<\/span> in their gamertag\u2014if you pay attention, you\u2019ll see that the gays are everywhere in Overwatch<\/em>, and most of the time they\u2019re playing healer.<\/p>\n

But this is all anecdotal evidence, right? Surely gays don\u2019t gravitate to playing healers that<\/em> disproportionately, do they? After hundreds of hours logged in Overwatch 2<\/em> comp , most of which I played as a healer, I felt a burning desire to delve deeper into this phenomenon and figure out why I kept encountering fellow gays in the support role. I had my theories: queer people are used to supporting their found families in the real world, support roles are notoriously less toxic, many of the healer characters are femme or androgynous\u2014but I needed more.<\/p>\n

So, I put out a call for \u201cgay people\u201d on Twitter, I interviewed players and peers, and I spoke to a queer-identifying counselor, all in an attempt to properly investigate Overwatch<\/em>\u2019s gay healing agenda. The result is a fascinating look at a subculture within a subculture, one marked by real-world social queues, kink play, emotional connections, and, unfortunately, a frustrating lack of scientific research. <\/p>\n

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Gay icons<\/strong><\/h2>\n
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$\"Mercy$ <\/div>\n
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Image: Blizzard \/ Nico D.<\/figcaption><\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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The most obvious answer (and one of the more common ones I received on Twitter) as to why queer people play healers in Overwatch<\/em> is that the characters themselves are gay icons. Even though the only two openly queer characters are both DPS heroes, the lineup of support characters looks a lot like the line outside of Happyfun Hideaway<\/span> on a Saturday night: the uber-feminine and soft Mercy, the muscular and bold Brigitte, the sweet but strong Baptiste, the spunky and sarcastic Kiriko, the calm and collected Zenyatta, the androgynous and tall Moira, the soothing and maturely sexy Ana. Compared to your typical FPS lineup, and even most of the other Overwatch<\/em> characters (save for outliers like Zarya and Mei), the support squad in this game feels demonstrably queer.<\/p>\n
Overwatch<\/em> player and freelance writer Nico D. echoes this sentiment via email, saying the characters \u201care designed in such a way to be desirable to queer communities\u2014Moira is a REALLY<\/em> good example of this, but I also know a lot of queer women or other queer people who are attracted to women that love Mercy, Ana, and Brig.\u201d Nico suggests this has to do with the futuristic, sci-fi fashions depicted in the game \u201cthat also happen to be on characters with typically queer-coded appearances like slightly more atypical body types\/silhouettes\/haircuts.\u201d<\/p>\n
That definitely describes most Overwatch support heroes. And though Mercy is slim and white and traditionally attractive (Blizzard does, after all, historically have a problem with portraying women\u2019s bodies<\/span>), she still doesn\u2019t feel as aggressively sexualized as someone like Widowmaker, whose impossibly long legs and massive tits scream The Male Gaze everytime she runs (in heels) across the screen.<\/p>\n
Others who identify as queer and play Overwatch<\/em> predominantly as healers tell me that the support characters are \u201cgay icons\u201d whose presence\/vibes suggest queerness even though it\u2019s not outright stated. \u201cThey feel queer\u201d is a sentiment that, while scientifically impossible to prove, is consistently echoed in both messages to me and Overwatch<\/em> community spaces. But \u201cfeeling queer\u201d is a helluva lot different than being canonically queer\u2014so why doesn\u2019t it seem like members of the community play Tracer and Soldier: 76 as much as they play healers?<\/p>\n
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Gender roles<\/strong><\/h2>\n
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$\"Kiriko,$ <\/div>\n
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Image: Blizzard<\/figcaption><\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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Venture into the Reddit or TikTok trenches in search of an answer as to why gay people play healers and you\u2019ll likely stumble across the \u201cI can\u2019t aim\u201d meme<\/span>. Like many internet fables, this one is somewhat rooted in reality. Evie May Barber, writer and narrative designer, tells me via Twitter DM that when she played Overwatch<\/em>, she mained Lucio and Mercy because she finds healers in FPS titles \u201crequire less precision and more strategy,\u201d whereas the DPS characters\u2019 effectiveness are largely rooted in accuracy.<\/p>\n
A desire to avoid roles that require accuracy could be a side effect of traditional multiplayer FPS titles being largely unsafe spaces for women and non cis-het men\u2014it\u2019s hard to feel comfortable or competent in these roles when the skills you need to excel at them should have been honed in the dark and scary servers of Halo 3 <\/em>or CS:GO<\/em>, during a time when the mere hint of \u201cotherness\u201d was met with viciousness, slurs, and threats. <\/p>\n
The boys\u2019 club of FPS titles may not exist in such severity today as it did in the early 2000s, but its effects linger. \u201cThere was a meta-analysis done that had several results, specifically about Overwatch,\u201d <\/em>says Dr. Sarah Hays, a queer-identifying counselor at nonprofit org Game to Grow<\/span> and director of programming at Queer Women of Esports, during a video call. \u201cOf course, it was on a gender binary, but male esports competitors are seen as more competitive than female competitors. Female players believe support to be the easiest position to play and prefer to play it because they don\u2019t want to be blamed for not doing well.\u201d She pauses. \u201cThat meta study has a whole bunch of data. I just hate that it\u2019s done on a gender binary.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNon male-identified people tend towards picking a character that they can feel confident in. So they reduce harassment…they\u2019re not going to receive flack for being another ignorant non-dude. Which sucks. But it\u2019s true\u201d \u2014 Dr. Sarah Hays<\/span><\/aside>\n
It\u2019s clear that the lack of adequate research around LGBTQIA+ gamers and the roles they choose to inhabit in multiplayer titles frustrates Dr. Hays. \u201cMy plea is: \u2018people, let\u2019s do research on this because it\u2019s so cool,\u2019\u201d she says earnestly before returning to the meta study, combing through it to try and find some more connections to the theory at hand: \u201cNon male-identified people tend towards picking a character that they can feel confident in. So they reduce harassment and they reduce some of that input. \u2018It\u2019s easier to play support because I\u2019m not getting as much shit, I\u2019m not getting blamed for that.\u2019 That\u2019s something we\u2019re seeing both based in research and generally: people want to look and appear and feel like they know what they\u2019re doing, so they\u2019re not going to receive flack for being another ignorant non-dude. Which sucks. But it\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dr. Hays doesn\u2019t say this word during our chat, but it lingers overhead: toxicity. \u201cI think queer folks trend toward support as it feels like the least toxic role or at least one that has less toxicity associated with them,\u201d says Threshold Games\u2019 community manager Colin Cummings in a DM. So, part of the reason queer-identiying gamers may be choosing healers is to avoid the rampant toxicity that comes with playing competitive FPS games. But how much do real-world experiences outside of gaming tie into choosing the support role?<\/p>\n
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Support systems<\/strong><\/h2>\n
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$\"Zenyatta$ <\/div>\n
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Image: Blizzard \/ Nico D.<\/figcaption><\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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I\u2019m pleased when one of my theories is echoed by a few fellow healers: queer people, so often forced to protect themselves because the government won\u2019t protect them, so connected to found families made up of supportive friends, would naturally gravitate towards characters who provide safety and security.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think that it\u2019s a far stretch to imagine that the fantasy of support or healers is appealing to groups of people who require communities around them for safety and affection,\u201d Nico writes. <\/p>\n
When I mention my theory in a DM with Eric Ravenscraft, product writer and reviewer at Wired<\/em>, he\u2019s on board, too. \u201cHonestly, that wouldn\u2019t surprise me too much,\u201d he writes. \u201cSupport is very much herding cats, keeping your precious babies alive while they\u2019re getting chased down by a mean dude with a hammer\u2026most of the LGBTQIA+ folks I know live in a very found-family kinda space that becomes very protective of outside threats. Every single person I know in that space knows what it\u2019s like to protect their friends\u2014or even randos\u2014from a bigoted parent or institution or whathaveyou. That kinda mindset maps pretty cleanly onto keeping four randos you just met safe online.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think that it\u2019s a far stretch to imagine that the fantasy of support or healers is appealing to groups of people who require communities around them for safety and affection.\u201d \u2014\ufeff Nico D., freelance writer<\/span><\/aside>\n
This social connection between support roles IRL and in Overwatch<\/em> is something Dr. Hays \u201cloves\u201d during our chat\u2014it clearly sparks her interest, and I can see her cogs turning on our video chat as she begins pondering the larger ramifications of this idea. \u201cI wonder if there isn\u2019t a correlation between oppressed identity and feeling better as a person in the position of healer, because it means that you get to avoid the blame, but also you get to be reinforced as someone who\u2019s helpful and supportive, and more effective in that role? Yeah, because of the way that our real-life experiences have catered to that, as well.\u201d<\/p>\n
While Dr. Hays is clearly inspired by these ideas, she reiterates that there\u2019s just not enough research about this kind of stuff to provide us with much concrete evidence. She does, however, bring up a scientific study that leaves my jaw on the floor.<\/p>\n
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Piss play<\/strong><\/h2>\n
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$\"Moira$ <\/div>\n
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I have used this image three times on Kotaku.com.<\/figcaption>
Image: Blizzard \/ Kotaku<\/figcaption><\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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When I wrote about how Overwatch 2<\/em>\u2019s shorthand is a specific brand of twisted,<\/span> the slang term for Moira\u2019s healing (pee) was at the top of my mind. So when Dr. Hays starts talking about a scientific study about Overwatch<\/em>\u2019s \u201chealsluts,\u201d I am, as the kids say, gagged\u2014the connections are there, drawn together by queer players who are, in fact, little freaks.<\/p>\n
Assuming the role of a healslut, according to the study from Finnish academic journal Widerscreen<\/em><\/span>, \u201c[invites] players to deploy elements of BDSM kink and sexuality not merely within the vocabulary and design of the game, but also in a communal paratext surrounding the game involving forums, voice chat, and viral fan-designed images.\u201d Kotaku<\/em> already wrote about this kinky phenomenon<\/span> almost eight years ago\u2014a r\/healslut <\/span>moderator told Kotaku <\/em>writer Luke Winkie that healsluts take classic dominant and submissive roles that are synonymous with traditional BDSM and apply it to the roles laid out in Overwatch<\/em>.<\/p>\n
The tank (dom) protects and compliments the healers (subs), occasionally scolding them if they fail. Healsluts have one main duty, and it\u2019s to protect their doms (DPS characters are considered darker, more violent versions of tanks, which makes sense if you\u2019ve ever tried to pocket heal a Genji). Though much of the writing about this community was published several years ago, I can confirm that r\/healsluts is still an active subreddit.<\/p>\n
In many cases, the Venn diagram of kink and queer communities is a circle, with kink playing an important role in Pride events and in the history and legacy of LGBTQIA+ people. Kink play in Overwatch<\/em> is a \u201ca way for resisting \u2018masculine-normative hegemonic fandom\u2019 in video games,\u201d according to the aforementioned study, and it persists even after Overwatch 1<\/em> was sunset in place of a free-to-play sequel.<\/p>\n
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So whether it\u2019s because of cishet-y FPS pressure making support a more attractive role, social roles within found families that translate to games, the indefinable but still somewhat tangible queerness of the healer characters, or a preternatural need to heal big, dommy tanks, it\u2019s very clear that there are a lot of LGBTQIA+ people playing support in Overwatch 2<\/em>. <\/p>\n
I could happily unpack this phenomenon in another 2,000 words, but maybe I should just leave it at what Kaitlin Jakola, managing editor at The Trace<\/em><\/a><\/span> and former Gizmodo<\/em> employee, had to say about it:<\/p>\n
\u201cI assume we all heal because gays love to be both extremely powerful and woefully unappreciated in our own time????\u201d Work, bestie.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n