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I survived a tsunami of online hate and now fight to help others

Zoë Quinn was subjected to death and rape threats in the Gamergate campaign and had private pictures posted. Now she wants to help others facing internet abuse
Zoe Quinn
“YouTube is a dumpster fire even worse than Reddit – and Reddit’s a goddam joke”

WHEN ZoĂ« Quinn picks up, she sounds a little on edge. “My phone came up ‘No caller ID’, which always makes me feel a bit nervous,” she says. “You understand why I might be a little stand-offish at first.”

Quinn is a games developer in the US who co-founded Crash Override Network, a group that helps those subjected to online abuse. She is better known as a key target in the storm of abuse dubbed “Gamergate” – one of the most sustained and coordinated hate campaigns the internet has ever seen.

And she lived to tell the tale. Her new book, Crash Override, is both autobiography and manual for dealing with the hate wars raging online. The first thing Quinn tells me is that online abuse is worse than most people think. Four in 10 people in the US have been harassed online, according to a recent Pew survey. Twitter is notorious for people posting racial and misogynistic abuse, for example, but anywhere that provides a public forum lets people vent the worst they have to give.

“YouTube is a dumpster fire even worse than Reddit, and Reddit is a goddam joke,” says Quinn. Reddit – one of the largest online discussion sites, branding itself the front page of the internet – is increasingly popular with white supremacists, she says.

Don’t feed the trolls, people say. But it is useless advice when the internet wants to destroy you. Quinn has received so many death threats she has lost count. Her home address and phone number were posted online. She has had 5 am phone calls from strangers detailing how they plan to rape her. Her father was harassed. Dead animals have been put in her mailbox. Nude photos were stolen, plastered across the internet and sent to family, friends and colleagues.

Before Quinn’s hell began on 15 August 2014, things were looking up. Her game Depression Quest – which simulated the experience of someone with depression – had seen modest success and she was becoming a name in the indie developer scene. Then her ex-boyfriend posted a 9000-word character assassination on websites popular with gamers, including salacious details of alleged infidelities. He accused Quinn of sleeping with a games journalist. Boom! For anyone desperate to find it, here was “evidence” that Quinn had exchanged sex for good reviews of her game.

Warped perception

It made no sense. For a start, the journalist had never even written about Quinn’s game. But for thousands of gamers with a warped perception that women were changing the industry for the worse, the accusation rang true. Within minutes of the document going up, her phone started buzzing as people began to hound her on social media. A few hours later, she was “doxxed” – her phone number and address published online.

“People don’t understand how this sort of thing can happen over less than nothing, so they think there must be some truth to it,” says Quinn. “The rumour persists because people don’t bother to look it up. Even if they do, there’s so much garbage on the internet, it’s hard to tell what’s true.”

Within weeks, the mob organised a crusade against what it framed as corruption in the games industry. Some websites cracked down on users who supported the harassment – and were in turn accused of censorship. Still, each credulous story from mainstream news sites gave the campaign validation. “The adults running these outlets should have damn well known better,” says Quinn. “Every scrap of legitimacy the abusers got was a new circle of hell for me. That’s the shocking part, and arguably the most upsetting.”

Gamergate is viewed as one of the internet’s darkest hours. The storm blew itself out after a year or so, but for those on the campaign’s most-wanted list, it has never really ended. Though the hounding is now less intense, says Quinn, “there’s still a large community of dedicated stalkers”.

Her coping mechanisms have become routine. Every so often, she’ll lose a day rushing to shut hackers out of her online accounts. When one goes down, she quickly changes details across others as a precaution, changing passwords and phone numbers. “I’m so used to all of this shit, I forget other people haven’t been face down in it for years.”

Hate campaigns like Gamergate achieve remarkable levels of coordination thanks to the strength of the communities behind them. “There’s a shared bonding, people are making friends,” says Quinn. “They have their own in-jokes and mascots.” She understands the attraction of an activity done with other people who share your views – especially ones you couldn’t share with anyone at work. “If you said to someone face-to-face a lot of the things people say to me online they’d be like, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ ” But that’s what draws people in and sustains their abuse. “When what you’re doing with other people is a dirty secret, there’s an allure to it.”

Where are these people? All around, says Quinn. “The person screaming at minorities online might be the person at work who makes you uncomfortable with their jokes,” she says. “Maybe it’s slightly racist stuff. Maybe it’s the embarrassing high-school friend you make excuses for.” People find each other online and build a movement.

All this makes the internet sound like a lawless place, but Quinn is quick to point out that isn’t the case. “The internet has laws, it’s just very selective on what matters.”

In her experience, the police have been at worst completely unsympathetic and at best unable to help even if they wanted to. The internet doesn’t map onto police jurisdictions and, at times, Quinn was unable even to file a complaint. If it happens online, it is always someone else’s problem. But there was no one else. That’s where Crash Override comes in. After a few years of frustrating first-hand experience, Quinn knows what kind of help those subjected to abuse need. She has the contacts at websites who can delete malicious material quickly and she knows what practical steps you can take to defend yourself.

“YouTube is a dumpster fire even worse than Reddit – and Reddit’s a goddam joke”

Given that many abusers are heterosexual white males, I ask Quinn if it matters that she’s being interviewed by one. She says a woman might have a better understanding of what it is like to be abused. “Men of colour get it more. Gay men get it more.” But it depends on who you’re writing for, she says. Perhaps a white male can speak to a non-minority audience more easily. “Getting people to realise this is a real problem is a huge first step,” she says.

That is why she wrote her book, though she knows it will bring a spike in abuse. “Whenever I do anything, people pop up and say, ‘Oh, it’s that professional victim ZoĂ« Quinn.’ There are thousands of people ready to twist what I say into a weird balloon animal, something that’ll make people start coming after me again.”

Yet despite all that, Quinn is upbeat about the future. “I’m an optimist, though it depends on what day you get me.” Her unlikely positivity comes entirely from seeing the difference just one person can make. “What we do online matters,” she says. “It’s so easy to hurt somebody, but it’s just as easy to bring people up and look after each other. The internet is made of people, and people have got to step up. At least, let’s not surrender the internet to those who scream the loudest.”

  • ZoĂ« Quinn’s new book is Crash Override: How Gamergate (nearly) destroyed my life, and how we can win the fight against online hate (PublicAffairs)

This article appeared in print under the headline “Facing down a tsunami of hate”

Topics: Internet / Social media