Before Twitch streams had millions glued to their screens and Esports stadiums sold out faster than music concerts, gaming fandoms would bubble quietly away in the corner of internet forums, LAN parties, and maybe the odd dusty comic shop. If you loved something - Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars - you shouted into the void of the internet and hoped that someone shouted back. Or created a really cool MySpace fanpage, just like I did. (Reality check: it wasn’t that cool. But I loved it nonetheless.)

It was slower, scrappier, less accessible. Kind of beautiful?

But today, fandom is a totally different beast. It’s fast, it’s global, it’s layered. You don’t just talk about your favourite game… You live it. You mod it. You cosplay it. You stream it. You meme the hell out of it. 

And nowhere has the fandom transformation been more powerful than in our beloved world of gaming.

There was a time when gaming was the nerdy hobby, holding a stereotype of being favoured by those locked away in their bedrooms, hunched over a controller, not wanting to talk to anyone. 

But then something shifted and gaming went mainstream.

Maybe it was tech kids growing up, maybe it was the increasing popularity of mobile gaming, maybe it was iconic characters like Mario and Lara Croft becoming cultural legends. Or perhaps it was the fact that people started to realise that games offer something movies, TV and books can’t: interaction and immersion.

You see, when you’re gaming, you don’t just watch a hero save the world. You are the hero. You make those gut-wrenching decisions. You fail. You restart. You rage quit. You figure it out. It’s a whole new level of emotional investment, and video game fandoms exploded because of it.

Let’s be honest - there’s always going to come a time when the marketing buzz will fade. Even the most hyped game will, one day, drop out of the trending tab. But fandoms? They stick around.

Video game fandoms are what keep games alive long after launch day. They're the ones building lore theories years after the credits roll, adding Shrek to Skyrim for reasons no one asked for but everyone enjoys, and organising elaborate community events with zero budget and infinite passion. If a game has a fandom, it has a lifespan.

And they don’t just keep the flame alive. They can ignite a full-blown cultural firestorm too. Fandoms can launch a game to cult status, or drag it through the dirt if they feel ignored, misled, or misunderstood. Two extremes, one same cause: emotional investment. You can only be this furious if you care that much.

As if that’s not enough, they’re also the industry’s unofficial QA, PR, and R&D departments when you really think about it. Hyping features before the devs even announce them. Spotting bugs that need fixing. Demanding better writing. Sometimes with love. Sometimes with pitchforks. But you gotta take the good with the bad sometimes, eh?

You don’t just market to a fandom. You co-exist with it. And if you’re smart, you listen.