Recently, I found out that one of my good friends is a self-described gamer. I was a bit shocked by this, because I thought I knew him pretty well–the only current gen console he owns is an Xbox 360, and aside from a small sample of games, it's a Netflix box for him. But when I asked him what he played, and he replied “Angry Birds, and some other stuff on my phone.” It was hard for me not to smirk a little.
It was only on the ride home that I realized I was a pompous jackass.
If he wants to play games on his iPhone, I shouldn't stop him. I shouldn't ignore him. I should encourage him. I should try to introduce him to stuff like Infinity Blade and Superbrothers: Sword & Sworcery EP. If he doesn't like either, that's fine.
You know why? Because a wider audience is good for creativity. What isn't good for creativity is demanding the 14th sequel to a game that should have been dragged out back and shot a decade ago.
Here's a couple of reasons why you want your mom and dad to care about games as much as you do.
First, there's probability: more people wanting games, means more games produced, raising the odds for more great games. Secondly, there's the idea exchange: more people of varied backgrounds means more unique perspectives from people interested in talking about and analyzing games (whether they are interested in being critics or designers) leads to better quality games. Finally, there are the social benefits. Once more people play games, there's less chance of the truly awful mischaracterization of video games, helping combat the ridiculous idea that we're all sleeper agents one frag away from going outside and blowing up an orphanage.
As if any of us wouldn't get terrible sunburns from being outside for 15 minutes.
Here's the important thing – a wider audience will stimulate the games by seeking new, scary ideas in an industry that is the creative equivalent of a dog chasing its own tail.
Demand for the same sci-fi, fantasy, and military themes by an increasingly insulated audience are killing video games. If you can't figure out why so many people have trouble taking games seriously as a legitimate form of artistic expression, count the number of games released this year that didn't feature any guns, aliens, explosions, women in super-tight clothing, or gratuitous violence. Also, exclude games not aimed squarely at children.
The fact is, the tastes of a wider audience demand more exploration into new themes which can only lead to more great, original game ideas (don't get me wrong, there'd be a lot of crap too). But bold ideas like 1979 would happen more than once a decade. Big studios would at least consider sponsoring projects that don't include the comfort food of space marines and gigantic tits, because a wider audience means there'd be more potential return on investment for different ideas. Variety is the spice of life, right?
Another benefit of a wider audience is more intelligent discussion surrounding games, improving the quality of games themselves. Don't get me wrong—fanboys will still exist in this whimsical fairy-tale of a future I've dreamt up. As well as people whom only care about the review scores of the games they play, and still others who insist that games were objectively better ten years ago. That's never going away.
However, bringing more people into the fold means that a greater quantity of thoughtful criticism is brought along with them. Better analysis of games is important, as it enhances our ability to think about the way games are made, granting new insights into the craft of developing games, bolstering creators' abilities.
Additionally more people would want to make games. How many of us had dreams of creating our own games? I can virtually guarantee that nearly every working developer today started out as some kid who had a love of video games, or has a fetish for working insanely long hours.
As the audience for video games spreads, so too do the chances of someone busting into the business with the next awesome idea. Which makes me wonder how many great ideas there could have been from someone who isn't interested in Call of Duty, Mass Effect, Starcraft, or anything else currently available—and therefore never had an interest in creating games.
Finally, there's the social benefits. Every time video games are yanked off the shelf by opportunistic politicians in response to the latest tragedy, it's always the result of fear-mongering because people who don't play video games don't understand them. Before video games were a convenient scapegoat it was comic books, before that: rock music, then jazz music, then showing your ankles in public—so on and so forth. All the way back to two cavemen furiously debating about the appropriate amount of back-hair to show in public. 
My point is this: as the audience for games increases, people will understand that games aren't Satan incarnate—Satan is actually working as a producer on 16 and Pregnant. So the quicker we get people into games, the quicker we can unload the burden of being the scapegoat from video games.
So when you find out your friend loves Farmville, don't scoff at him because you're a “better” gamer than he or she. Thank them for actually giving a shit. Then, engage them. Meet them halfway. Show them why you love games. Adversely, let them show you. You might surprise them. You might even surprise yourself.
