Skate Can’t Be Punk, It Never Was

Why did anyone expect Skate to be punk, exactly?
A lot of the criticism I’ve seen levied at the newest incarnation of the series, which just launched into early access via EA on September 16, focuses on this particular point. For many, this new Skate game, which sees players dropped into a fictional skater’s paradise called San Vansterdam, falls short on some barometer that measures punk-ness and, because of that, has been labeled inauthentic. I don’t exactly find fault in the argument either—while Nu Skate feels good to play, it looks and sounds incredibly yuppie—but the resulting discussions have seemed to frame earlier games in the series as de facto punk stalwarts, when I’d argue they aren’t and never really have been.
I really admire the early Skate games too! When I was an impressionable tween looking to the world for a new passion to make me cool, games like the Skate franchise were foundational for me. I tried to adopt the style of the game’s characters, as well as their personas and speech patterns. I felt emboldened to bust out that skateboard I’d gotten a few years earlier, and the further I moved into middle school and beyond, the more that passion grew into a love affair with longboarding. I owe them my affinity for punk shit…even if they themselves were hardly punk.
I can’t blame folks for conflating Skate for something actually punk; it certainly looked the part! The environs of the first few games had a kind of grimy, dilapidated look that rang true for a generation of skaters (and let’s be honest, wannabes) brought up on makeshift skate parks and MTV videos. The characters were dressed to match this vibe, and they sure spoke like they earnestly lived a life dominated by “steeze.” But even then, it wasn’t hard to see past the artifice of it all.
Look no further than the star-studded opening to the original Skate, a slapstick skit detailing how the player character gets maimed in a skating accident. As their body is transported to the hospital, where they are eventually resuscitated, about a dozen professional skaters—all household names to people deeply entrenched in skate culture in the mid-to-late aughts, like Jason Dill and Danny Way—appear and are credited. This act is, of course, partly due diligence (the dudes deserve their credit, after all), but it’s also a work on the part of the developers at EA Black Box, a bid at authenticity as effective as slapping Tony Hawk’s name and appearance on a game case in the late 90s and early 00s.