I was actually talking about "the good old days" of pre-social media Internet communities before I got distracted, wasn't I? Let's revisit that.
I've already talked about my earliest experiences with the "gaming community" as being on CompuServe's GO GAMERS forum. I guess my next encounter with them would have been 1up.com, a site which my brother was in charge of from its launch onwards and for several years afterwards.
1up.com is defunct now, but it was very ahead of its time in a lot of ways. Besides the articles from the staff, it allowed each and every user their own personal homepage to set up how they saw fit, and as part of this homepage every user had the opportunity to post a blog. This was, I think, my earliest encounter with blogging, and although I'd previously done some professional writing work for PC Zone and Official Nintendo Magazine at this point, this was probably the first time I'd written purely for pleasure about games since firing up AtariWriter on the 130XE and printing out my own "reviews" of games I'd been playing on our Epson-compatible Star dot-matrix printer, the noise of which used to mildly terrify me.
User homepages were just part of the 1up.com puzzle though. The site also played a leading role in establishing the format of gaming podcasts thanks to its long-running 1up Yours show, which I even appeared on a couple of times. And as a companion to the podcast, there was a forum specifically for discussing matters relating to "1up Radio" — the podcast and surrounding projects, such as the later video-based 1up Show.
The 1up Radio boards became a spiritual home for me. The people there were intelligent, articulate and wordy. People liked to discuss things in depth and detail, with a respectful tone even when there were disagreements, and at one point the community here even collectively established a project to continue an aborted features on the podcast: the exploration of our collective Piles of Shame, the games we'd bought but had never gotten around to finishing or even playing in some cases.
A loose collective quickly became a more organised group known as The Squadron of Shame, and we took on "missions" in a sort of "book club" format; we'd pick a game together, then play it through at the same time, posting our thoughts in a dedicated thread on the 1up Radio forums. We often got a shout-out on the podcast for continuing the work the podcast hosts hadn't been able to find the time for, and in the process each of us discovered some interesting games. Among other things, my early time with The Squadron of Shame was my first encounter with the Project Zero/Fatal Frame series.
One of the best things about the Squad and, more broadly, the Radio boards, was that we had a little corner of the Internet to call our own. The platform-specific boards on 1up.com were full of the usual fanboy arguments, but the Radio boards were different. The population was, on the whole, older and more mature in attitude; people liked to talk and discuss rather than make drive-by statements. It was an eminently pleasant place to hang out.
Then one day, everything changed. Someone behind the scenes decided that it would be a good idea to merge all the 1up.com boards — of which there were probably 15-20 or so? — into just two: "Games" and "Not Games". I'm sure you can imagine what happened next, as the 12-year old fanboys were suddenly thrown into the pit with intelligent people in their 20s and 30s. Chaos. Absolute chaos.
The first Squad mission we attempted after this great "merge" was Psi-Ops on PS2. The person who posted the initial "briefing" post on the forum, as always, went into detail about the game, why it had been chosen and some bits and pieces about its history. The first response? Some moron complaining about a "massive fucking wall of text". We knew then that this was no longer a good place to host our discussions; throwing everyone into the same pool forces the lowest common denominator to become default.
The story of the Squad continues further from there, but the important thing here is that our best years were during the period where we were part of a clearly "gated" community. We had our own space in which we felt safe and able to discuss things in the manner that we found interesting and enjoyable. When that was taken away from us, that was, in many ways, the beginning of the end — though we struggled on for a number of years across various platforms beyond this.
It's increasingly difficult to find spaces like that these days. Forums like NeoGAF and Resetera still follow the "Games/Not Games" formula rather than making more sensible subdivisions, and the overzealous, draconian moderation on the latter in particular makes it an undesirable place to go and hang out anyway.
For me, setting up MoeGamer was an important means of me being able to express myself about the things that are important to me in a way that I am comfortable and confident with. I'm extremely happy to welcome people into that space, and I've made some good friends in the process. But I'm still aware that it's not quite the same as those pleasant days of our nice, quiet "gated community" away from the noise and chaos of the broader gaming public. I don't think those days are ever coming back while social media continues to be a thing, and that makes me a bit sad — but at least I still have those fond memories!