What does it take to build an inclusive, values-driven community in one of gaming’s most misunderstood genres?

We sat down with Romero Games’ Communication Manager and Community Developer: Maezza Romero - FPS fan, veteran community manager, and champion of empathy-first design - to talk about Discord drama, social strategy, cultural representation, and how to earn trust in a space where toxicity is often assumed.

From gender sensitivity to generational shifts, this interview offers a full-spectrum view of what real community work looks like in today’s game industry.

Let's start!

Personal journey:
You started your career designing a game to teach cybersecurity to girls. How did that shape your view of what a community in gaming could or should be?

‍

^{Designing Cyber Squad for Hewlett Packard and the Girl Scouts of America was an incredibly informative experience for me. I was only seventeen at the time. It was my first development project, and while I didn’t learn much about community building in the traditional sense (since it was something I designed and then gave to Hewlett Packard), I did learn a lot about communication. Specifically, how to tailor information for different audiences. Because the target audience was other girls around my age, the content needed to be not just accessible, but genuinely fun and engaging. That’s something I’ve carried with me into my current community work, always thinking about the voice and tone of our social channels, and how best to present information in a way that resonates with people. That project also taught me an early lesson I still believe in: people can form communities around just about anything, even something like a cybersecurity educational game. If you meet them where they are and give them something to care about, the engagement often follows.}‍

What drew you to FPS games specifically, and how do you approach building a safe and friendly community around a genre known for its intensity and aggressive style?

‍

^{I think any community has the potential to turn toxic. That’s not something unique to shooters. There’s a common misconception that these spaces are inherently toxic, when in reality, it’s the responsibility of the space, and the people managing it, to set standards that prevent that from happening. As a Community Manager, part of the job is recognizing that risk and actively working against it. For me, it all starts with knowing exactly what your goals are from day one and making sure those goals are rooted in your core values.}

‍

^{I’ve always loved FPS games. Some of my earliest gaming memories are of playing Call of Duty with friends, and what stood out to me even then wasn’t just the gameplay, but how games brought people together. That’s the spirit I try to channel when building communities. I approach it with a balance of leading by example and setting clear rules and guidelines,  not as restrictions, but as tools that encourage fun, respect, and mutual understanding.}

‍

^{The rules you create should always reflect your company’s values. For us, that was fun, inclusivity, respect, and a shared love of games. I’m a big believer in leading with empathy and understanding. I don’t go into spaces assuming they’re destined for toxicity, I go in seeing an opportunity to create something positive. It sounds a little silly to say, but when we first rebuilt our community’s Discord, I had to commit to an overnight shift. The space had been poorly managed for years, and even though the user count was small, toxicity had already started to creep in. It wasn’t that the people in there were inherently toxic, but it definitely wasn’t a space that felt welcoming to anyone outside of it. Reshaping that space was my first real job when I started working full-time as a Community Manager. And one of the most important things I learned early on was that setting new standards for behavior isn’t about imposing rules from above. It’s about meeting people where they are.}‍

‍

^{I didn’t ask users to change who they were. Instead, I engaged with them on the things they cared about, always maintaining a positive, approachable tone, something that felt less like moderation and more like an invitation to help build something better together. Over time, we brought on moderators who embodied that same energy, people who genuinely cared about the community and showed it every day through the way they talked to others. Slowly but surely, the server shifted. It began to reflect the values I held, and the values my team held, kindness, inclusivity, and respect. And I feel incredibly lucky now to not just work alongside these people, but to call them my friends. Their kindness runs through the heart of our entire server. Of course, bans are sometimes unavoidable. That’s just part of managing any online space. But one of the first systems we introduced was a three-strike policy, designed to give people the chance to reflect on their behavior before things escalate.}

‍

^{Not everyone comes into a space with bad intentions. Something I’ve learned is that sometimes people are just having a bad day. The three-strike system gives us a way to handle situations with empathy first, while still setting clear boundaries. It encourages people to pause, self-reflect, and adjust. More often than not, they do.}‍

‍

^{That early experience taught me one of the most important lessons I’ve learned as a Community Manager: you can’t just drop new rules onto an existing culture and expect instant change. Real change happens when you shift the tone from within, by showing up, being consistent, and leading with care. At the end of the day, a community isn’t shaped just by its rules, its people, or the content they gather around. It’s shaped by the intent and collective vision behind it. And as a Community Manager, that always starts with me.}‍

Culture and values:

Games, as well as movies and music, often get criticized for promoting violence. How do you respond to that criticism?

‍

^{As you pointed out, plenty of mediums can be seen as promoting violence. It’s not something strictly limited to games. In my experience, I’ve found that highlighting the parts of gaming that completely contradict that narrative often helps shift people's perspectives. Games have been an incredible source of connection for many people and an outlet for creativity. As a Community Manager, part of my job is accepting that this kind of risk, criticism and misunderstanding, will always exist, and working actively against it. While I won't share specific examples, I’ve had to navigate situations where games were broadly criticized. In those moments, sharing real examples of connection, creativity, and community has been incredibly effective at challenging those assumptions. At the end of the day, it’s not the medium itself that promotes violence. People come with their own predispositions. Using something that brings so many people comfort and a sense of belonging as a scapegoat doesn’t address the real issues, if anything, it oversimplifies and distorts them.}‍

Representation and safety are at the core of your approach. How do cultural background, gender and age influence how communities form and behave?

‍

^{Representation and diversity in gaming communities is at the heart of what I do. In every space I’m involved with, my goal is to make it feel like a home, a place where people from all backgrounds, orientations, and gender identities feel genuinely welcome. I've been very fortunate that Romero Games, as a studio, shares the same values I do.}

‍

^{When it comes to different backgrounds, I wouldn’t say there’s a strict influence imposed by others. Rather, it inspires me to act in ways that support and uplift them. For example, we have a strong queer following within our company, and I keep that in mind across posts, actions, and communication. It shows in small but important ways, like ensuring people can choose their pronouns, and more importantly, making it easy for users to tell me if theirs don’t fit the presets I’ve designed for our servers.}

‍

^{It also comes through in ongoing support for those communities, such as through social contributions. A few years ago, for instance, we partnered with Galway Community Pride and sold t-shirts, with all profits going directly to them. That kind of action, and others we’ve taken and continue to take, helps our community feel truly supported in the spaces we build, not just passively included.}

‍

^{I do think it’s a bit of an oversimplification to say that cultural background directly shapes behavior, unless we’re talking about things like language or communication style, in which case yes, you’ll absolutely encounter different approaches. But I believe one kind of communication rises above all else: kindness, mutual understanding, and, of course, fun.}

‍

^{In terms of age, it’s funny you ask,  we’re in a pretty unique position where our community spans multiple generations, both young and old. A big part of my day-to-day work involves balancing the preferences of two very different audiences. I have to consider what each group wants to see, which platforms they’re using, and how they prefer to be communicated with. It can definitely be a bit of a balancing act, and it requires a lot of research into audience demographics.}

‍

^{One tool I’ve found incredibly helpful is the use of personas. If you haven’t worked with them before, I highly recommend it. They allow you to directly target your audience and refine your strategies based on their specific traits and preferences. Content calendars have also been a blessing in keeping everything on track, and I make a point to check in on each audience segment at least once a week.}

‍

^{From what I’ve observed, TikTok tends to draw a younger crowd, while platforms like Instagram offer more of a middle ground. Recently, I’ve started using a mixed-media approach, and it seems to be resonating well across the board. Our community has been incredibly supportive of one another across generations, and we’re really lucky to have that kind of cross-demographic engagement.}

What are the biggest inclusivity challenges you’ve faced in your experience as community manager?

^{Gosh, it’s been a long time. I’m coming up on seven years in the games industry now, and I’ve seen a lot in that time working specifically as a Community Manager. Honestly, I think the biggest inclusivity challenge I’ve faced has come from within: learning how to be the best version of myself for my community.}

‍

^{That’s meant becoming hyper-aware of how I speak online, and also learning to trust that little voice in my head that tells me when it’s time to step in, when something has gone too far or needs intervention. When you care deeply about something, like I do with inclusivity, it can be tough. You want to speak out, call things for what they are, but you also need to pause, think, and consider how your response will impact the wider community. It’s about protecting not just values, but the overall health of the space you’re creating.}

‍

^{What I’ve learned over the years is that my attitude directly shapes the tone of the community. If I don’t model thoughtful, respectful behaviour, how can others know this is a place where they’ll be safe and supported? Earning and maintaining that trust is everything. It’s what allows people to feel comfortable enough to raise concerns, especially around representation.}

‍

^{And I’m always open to that. I’ve had users reach out with suggestions, pointing out ways I could improve or represent them better, and I truly value that. I’ve always believed that not every piece of criticism is meant to hurt you. A lot of the time, people give feedback because they care. And that care is invaluable.}‍

‍

{{banner}}

‍

Do you see a generational shift in how younger players approach online interactions? What gives you hope, or concern, about the future of gaming communities?

‍

^{I absolutely do. I think we’ve entered a time of incredibly fast-paced communication, completely different from what I experienced growing up. Back then, it was much harder to coordinate when we’d all be online or available for a call. Now, we have instant messaging and platforms like Discord that are literally built for constant, accessible communication. You can even set calendar invites for community events. It’s an entirely new level of connectedness.}

‍

^{What gives me the most hope is how younger generations engage so openly and lovingly with the things they’re passionate about. Gaming communities have always existed, but now people can create massive online spaces filled with others who care deeply about the same games, stories, or characters. I’m part of a number of gaming communities myself, two of my favourites being Fields of Mistria and Silent Hill (very different, I know… haha!). What I love is that, instead of spending hours searching for a blog or a forum post you relate to, you can now just join a dedicated server and immediately start chatting.}

‍

^{There’s something really beautiful about that kind of connection. These days, people gather around games in so many ways, from collecting and cosplaying to just having daily conversations in chatrooms. That desire to talk, share, and build community is something I really admire in younger players. They’re just as passionate as older generations, but they have an even bigger and more powerful toolbox to express it, and that gives me a lot of hope for the future of gaming spaces.}

‍

Advices and professional tips:

You handle both community development and social media, what strategies actually work to create lasting engagement, not just likes?

^{One strategy I always come back to, and talk about constantly in workshops, is the use of personas. You start by imagining your ideal player or players. How old are they? What’s their vibe? What do they care about? From there, you flesh them out: their content preferences, their go-to platforms, even their dislikes. That foundation helps shape everything else.}

^{Next, I move into defining community culture, which is very different from setting rules. Rules tell people what not to do. Culture tells them how to engage, what’s encouraged, what’s celebrated. That culture then directly informs your tone of voice. If you scroll through any game studio’s socials, you’ll notice they each have a distinct tone, whether it’s serious, funny, or something in between. Establishing that voice creates something people can actually connect with. It gives your content a soul. Something that goes beyond visuals or algorithms, it feels human.}

^‍

^{For me, it’s about meeting people where they genuinely care, and weaving small bits of personality into every post. I love joking around in our content and genuinely have a lot of fun with it. That energy matters. To keep it sustainable, I lean on content calendars to plan weekly or monthly posts and take the pressure off daily creativity.}

‍

^{But really, it always comes back to personas, refine them, test them, and be willing to iterate. If something flops, that’s not failure, it’s feedback. I’ve had posts I swore would do well totally fail, and instead of being discouraged, I used that as a cue to ask the community what they actually want. And the answers surprised me. We’re talking John Romero haircare routine. No joke, people really want us to do that.}

‍

^{So don’t just exist in a social space. Ask questions. Learn from your community. Don’t aim to blend in, be disruptive, be curious, and most of all, be human.}

What advice would you give to game developers and game studios trying to build a strong, values driven community around their game?

^{We talked earlier about community culture, and my biggest advice is to define that as early as possible. Start by identifying your team’s core values. These should reflect the kinds of behavior you want to encourage and what you’re committed to shutting down. It’s crucial to know what you stand for before building a community, especially if you want that community to reflect those same values.}

‍

^{At Romero Games, for example, our core values are fun, safety, and diversity. The company itself was founded by two people from underrepresented groups, and we wanted to create a safe space in the FPS genre, both for ourselves and for others. Personally, growing up as a mixed gamer, creating safety for marginalized communities has always been close to my heart. Your values need to be real, tangible, and linked to who you are, because those values will inform everything you do, from social strategy to community moderation.}

‍

^{If you don’t genuinely share the values of the community you’re trying to build, players will notice, and it’ll fall flat or come off as disingenuous. Representation and engagement shouldn’t be a checkbox. It needs to be meaningful.}

‍

^{Without a clearly defined community culture, your players won’t know what’s expected of them. I’m a big believer in setting the tone through authentic engagement, and that starts with me, then flows through my moderators. Instead of just banning toxic behavior, we actively celebrate helpfulness, friendliness, and positive interactions. My team and I focus less on punishment and more on guiding behavior through reinforcement. We thank people who answer questions, highlight kind gestures between players, and make sure everyone feels seen and appreciated.}

‍

^{Of course, bans still happen, they’re necessary sometimes. But instead of creating a culture where “the mods are scary,” we focus on building real connections and friendships. That sense of trust and mutual respect is what keeps a community strong.}

‍

^{And finally, engage. Don’t just observe your community, participate. Engaging well keeps people interested, fuels their passion, and shows them that their presence and contributions matter. That includes speaking up about the issues your community cares about. Your values should be echoed not just inside your game, but publicly, on social platforms and beyond.}

‍

^{For example, we have a strong queer following, and we make it a point to stand with them when it counts, not just when it’s convenient. That means being vocal in your support. Be present. Be real. Be willing to stand up for your community in the moments that matter most.}

‍

What’s one thing most developers misunderstand about community management or building player trust?

^{I think the biggest misunderstanding I see, and I’ve touched on it a few times, is that negative feedback is often taken as a personal attack. And don’t get me wrong, it can hurt. Sometimes you pour your heart into something, only to find it doesn’t land with players the way you hoped.}

‍

^{But what I always encourage is this: instead of reacting to a comment like “I hate this feature” with defensiveness or hurt, try responding with kindness and curiosity. Ask yourself, what if this player actually loves the game, and was enjoying themselves until they hit this one thing that frustrated them? At the end of the day, they chose to come into your space to express that.}

‍

^{Now of course, if feedback is worded abusively or crosses a line, it should be addressed accordingly. But in my experience, nine times out of ten, if I ask a follow-up for more detail, that same player will give me clear, useful, and genuinely constructive feedback that the team can act on.}

‍

^{I’ve worked with beta test groups, as many studios do,  but that shouldn’t be the only place you learn. Help can come from unexpected places in your community, even if it arrives in a way that feels uncomfortable at first.}

‍

^{I suppose what I’m really saying is: not all trust from your community is going to feel good. Sometimes, people trust you enough to tell you what isn’t working, and that’s a gift. If we stop seeing negative feedback as an insult, and instead see it as an opportunity, that’s when real growth happens.}

How do you measure the health of a gaming community beyond the usual engagement metrics?

^{For me, the health of a gaming community goes far beyond numbers like likes, retweets, or follower count. Those can be useful indicators, sure, but they don’t tell you how safe, connected, or seen people feel in your space.}‍

‍

‍

^{One of the first things I look at is how people interact with each other, not just with us, but with other people. Are they answering each other’s questions? Are they welcoming to new members? Do they feel comfortable enough to speak up, share feedback, or raise concerns? Things like that show me that people trust the space, and each other, enough to engage meaningfully.}

^‍

^{I also pay attention to the tone of conversations. Is it mostly positive, playful, respectful? Or do people feel like they have to walk on eggshells? I’ve found that you can tell a lot about a community just by listening. When people feel truly supported, they’re more likely to speak openly, offer kindness, and take part in shaping the culture with you.}

^‍

^{Another big indicator is whether people feel ownership. Do they bring ideas, start discussions, suggest improvements? Do they trust you enough to say what isn’t working, not just what is? That kind of vulnerability is a strong indicator that you’ve built something deeper. You’ve created a space where people feel like they belong.}

^‍

^{And finally, I listen to quiet signals. The DMs. The private thank-yous. The people who come forward to say, “Hey, I felt safe here,” or “I like chatting here.” Those moments are hard to quantify, but they tell me more than any dashboard ever could.}

^‍

^{Because at the end of the day, community health isn’t just about activity, it’s about how people feel when they’re there.}

‍