The Rapid Evolution of Gamer Slang and Its Influence on Gen Z Lingo
As an avid gamer, I’ve witnessed firsthand how the esports community often pioneers the internet slang that later gets co-opted by the mainstream.
Our gaming terminology reflects the distinct subcultures that emerge around different titles – from the cutoff “Got pwned” of Halo teams to the sarcastic “Well played!” BM of Hearthstone opponents.
But occasionally, a word like “FTW” (for the win) transcends our niche community to be adopted by the wider Gen Z lexicon.
In this article, we’ll analyze exactly how gamer lingo spreads and what happens when gaming memes reach TikTok trends.
The Interplay Between Games and General Slang
Plenty of Gen Z slang clearly originates directly from video games themselves.
Take “nerfed” or “buffed” – gaming terms used when developers weaken (nerf) or strengthen (buff) aspects of characters.
Today “nerf” applies to anything reduced in power – from complaining about nerfed reusable water bottles to reactions to nerfed league champions.
“That AP exam was so nerfed from last year” or “Ugh they really nerfed the Battle Bus rocket launchers last update!” illustrate gamified language becoming common vernacular online.
We also see crossover in the opposite direction though, as mainstream slang gets adopted into gaming contexts.
For example, ”clutch” migrated from general sports terminology into gaming as the adjective for improbable last-minute victories.
"Dude pulled a 1v5 clutch for the W!" invokes how “clutch” is now ubiquitous for describing skillful gamer plays in tight situations.
So gaming slang clearly has a symbiotic relationship with wider internet cultures. Let’s explore some case studies of how certain game-inspired words have earned “main character” status across TikTok and IG.
The Evolution of Calling People “NPCs”
Earlier we discussed how “NPC” emerged from actual non-player characters in video games – the extras milling about virtual cities who serve no purpose except background decor.
Originally NPC described trivial automated quest givers with limited dialogue trees, completely non-essential to gameplay.
Fast forward to the term becoming shorthand for boring people exhibiting basic social media behavior.
Though clever at first, many gamers argue that meme went too mainstream once normies started flinging “NPC” as a petty insult towards strangers’ dating profiles and Gen Z vent Tiktoks.
In the gamer community, we ICU when a spicy bit of lingo gets overused past recognition. But tracing NPC’s gaming origins lends more context for why this label feels especially dehumanizing.
Games like Oblivion pioneered programming human-like AI guides who seemingly had dynamic lives, only to later reveal they actually just rotated between the same 3-4 locations and lines of dialogue.
Early experiments attempting to simulate NPC consciousness were revolutionary at the time – but in retrospect, their limitations only highlighted the “fakeness” of their personhood.
Applying this metaphor to actual humans then implies someone lacks any inner depth or autonomy – that their personality is as flat as a 2D cut out; their behavior as predictable as a milling herd of clones.
Next we’ll analyze how another gaming concept – “simping” – got distorted as it spread across digital spheres.
The Over-Application of “Simp”
The evolution of “simp” took a slightly different path to TikTok fame. Originally shorthand for “suckers who idolize mediocre p***y,” it emerged to mock men going overboard in worshipping female streamers or sex workers online in hopes of winning their affection.
But because the portmanteau combined “sucka” with “simpering” to connote desperation, its usage expanded to tease anyone seeming excessively thirsty for attention from their internet crush of choice – whether a pic-selling cosplayer or just popular kid at school.
Soon “down bad” TikToks portrayed simping as categorically lame – applied to girl “stans” drooling over Timothée Chalomet equally as boys sending large donations to bathing suit streamers.
But the gamer community argues this interpretation again erases crucial context around simp’s kickoff.
In esports and streaming spheres specifically, the unfair expectation for male allyship to become financial support normalizes emotional manipulation. Structure encourages lonely guys to buy friendship through over-tipping. They simp hoping their idol might reciprocate emotional intimacy someday.
Data shows men donate 3x more than women on Twitch. The top female streamers easily clear over $50k a month from simp gifts alone.
Sure, it’s fair game to gentle rib buddies when that parasocial crush goes too far. But gaslighting vulnerable men by equating reasonable fan appreciation with being a duped simp trivializes a deeper cultural problem.
As gaming insider “xQc” explains:
“The issue is those donation demands fostering dysfunctional relationships…guilting people to pay money they worked hard for in exchange for attention.”
So as we reflect on modern slang, recalling original context matters. The gaming community knew “simp” described specific manipulation around money for intimacy.
But once TikTok memes reduced it to “any stan behavior = bad,” that diluted its power to call out unhealthy industry norms enabling exploitation.
Next we’ll explore how Gen Z’s obsession with “ratioing” others lifted directly from similar behavior getting called out in esports.
Gamer Gatekeeping and the Ratio Takedown
Earlier we touched on how Twitter ratios emerged as credibility quantifiers when reply dunks get more likes than bad original takes.
Well before “ratio” went fully mainstream though, gamers used public takedowns to police community belonging too. “Getting ratioed” was insider lingo for when someone posed a trash opinion and got slammed with downvotes or mocking rebuttals.
Attention-seeking behavior has always run rampant in niche gaming spheres. So ratioing others served dual functions:
- Discouraging uneducated perspectives from gaining influence
- Gatekeeping community membership
After all, confident gamers don’t thirstily chase clout through hot takes. So getting loudly ratioed signaled someone lacked legitimacy among “real” insiders.
Echoes of this ratio phenomenon persist today as gamers still relish creatively demolishing each other’s bad Reddit posts or Twitter drama commentary.
Yet even while gaming spheres pioneered weaponizing ratios for status, we also spawned the early precursors to today’s “touch grass” clapbacks…
Gaming‘s "Touch Grass" Ethos from Day One
What percentage of top Fortnite players do you think even go outside weekly?
As an industry filled with pasty indoor kids, gaming culture has always maintained a “touch grass” philosophy about keeping internet drama in perspective.
Trying too hard to ratio random opponents implied unhealthy levels of personal investment in strangers. Needing to constantly assert intellectual dominance suggested insecurity masked through false bravado.
So the ultimate slight against someone‘s irrelevant opinions became advising them to log off and physically go outside – to literally touch grass and get some sun.
Before Gen Z declared “go touch grass” the new sick burn, that mentality already permeated gaming circles. We‘ve always known that fixating on besting anonymous avatars or allying with e-celebs should never override taking care of one’s actual life.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how much skill some 16-year old shows quickscoping clips on YouTube, he still screams like a baby when his mom threats to take the PS5 cord.
Real life matters more than even sweatiest gamer cred.
So as TikTok popularizes gaming language stripped of context, I hope we inspire future generations to carry on that same spirit of playful competition – talking trash just for laughs rather than lust for empty status.
The future of language and culture flows in all directions. Gaming didn’t just birth these terms – we also helped mold their connotations. And slang will continue evolving as creators toy with meanings across digital dimensions.
But no matter who currently reigns as the main character claiming ownership of “drip” or “busting,” perhaps we should all touch grass a bit more, and less. What a timeline!