Two days prior to New Years’ 2015, the Gamergate movement had its first major personality debate streamed online between Chris Kluwe (@ChrisWarcraft), former NFL player and casual video game culture pundit, and Mike Cernovich (@PlayDangerously), a 1st amendment lawyer based in Los Angeles who had controversially taken to the movement in October. Though framed as an argument between “sides” of the controversy, the pair was not elected by any particular consensus; the two had engaged in mutual criticism over Twitter and arranged the debate personally, taking it upon themselves to represent the myriad controversies and disconnects that had coagulated over the course of a five-month horror show — one rife with character assassination, intimidation tactics, harassment, and speculation of legal ramifications for major parties involved.

The debate was a Waterloo for Cernovich, who was unable to glibly hide behind asynchronous Twitter exchanges as Kluwe called out both his and the movement’s myriad failings, half-truths, and muddying of waters. Reactions from Gamergate ran the gamut of emotions from frantic damage control to resigned disappointment. They did not, however, frame it as a loss for Gamergate; to them, Cernovich was never a leader so much as a de facto figurehead. This is part of Gamergate culture, which itself is a mutation of the culture of Chan message boards, a phenomenon documented in depth by Jay Allen, known by his Twitter handle @a_man_in_black.

Chan culture, and Gamergate, is marketed as a diaspora with no entry criteria, central knowledge base, or, most importantly, leadership. Supposedly, this allows its members to work towards implicit communal goals without fear of identification or consequence; if someone is deemed detrimental to the movement’s PR, they can hypothetically be forcibly disassociated from the collective.

NO GODS, NO KINGS, ONLY MAN

But with no leaders, power vacuums begin to form, ripe for occupation by anyone with a personality and an agenda. E-celebrity status is awarded to anyone with visibility and a megaphone who is willing to spout agreeable rhetoric. Some vociferous supporters become “more equal than others.” In Gamergate, these figureheads are often lauded for their notable anti-progressive streaks, or their willingness to lend legitimacy to the movement by way of their professional credentials, existing stigmas be damned.

If you’re intimidating enough, you might just find yourself “based.”

“Based,” a term popularized by Lil’ B, has been co-opted by Chan culture — and by extension, Gamergate — as a superlative reserved for anyone allying themselves with the movement that uses their credentials or platform to rise above the anonymous fray and further their cause.

Enter Mike Cernovich, Gamergate’s “Based Lawyer.”

The elevation of Cernovich to unofficial Gamergate spokesman is not the first time the movement attempted to throw around legal weight. Early in Gamergate, a supporter identifying as “Lawfag” promised legal support to its members, as well as legal consequence to anyone who may cross the movement. This fell apart quickly when Lawfag was revealed to be merely married to an attorney and attempting to raise $35,000 to hire his wife for a nonspecific “investigation” into serial Gamergate harassment targets Anita Sarkeesian and Zoe Quinn.

No less craven was Cernovich’s entry into the fray, as his primary motives of making a name for himself and pushing an antiprogrssive agenda had been thrust into the limelight in an embarrassing online pantsing by Matt Binder. The difference, though, is that Cernovich was willing to follow through with what may have been otherwise considered idle boasts, and he (by most accounts) has some steez in 1st amendment law circles. At least professionally, Mike’s acumen is respected by free speech badasses like Popehat and Marc Randazza.

Mike Cernovich entered the Gamergate fray in earnest when he got in contact with Eron Gjoni (the ex-boyfriend of game developer Zoe Quinn), whose novella-length screed against Quinn’s personal life gave ample fodder to the anti-progressive mob in the video game world that had been demanding her head since 2013. Gjoni’s posturing was that of the innocent whistleblower, airing his personal grievances against an ex who he felt had wronged him. Behind the scenes, however, he was engaging with and directing the mob that eventually coalesced as Gamergate, which formed under a hashtag coined by conservative actor Adam Baldwin in reference to a conspiracy video that had been spawned from Gjoni’s revenge post.

Gjoni had designed the post to go viral and inflict as much damage as possible against Quinn. He enlisted the mob that would later become Gamergate to do most of his dirty work for him, hiding behind the First Amendment and laundering all responsibility for the nightmare Quinn was then forced to endure. Gamergate took his manifesto and added a batshit line of quickly-debunked professional intrigue to disguise their motivations for trying to ruin her life, turning an embarrassing act of depraved, self-righteous sociopathy into the game industry shitstorm of the decade. Each decisive defeat exposing their true motivations, they continued to spin new and more desperate angles of purported relevancy to their crusade, with Gjoni’s blessing and support fueling them all the while.

Understandably, Quinn soon after filed for an abuse prevention order against Gjoni, who remained dead-set on trying to ruin her life, even creating his first Twitter account to inject himself into conversations with her friends and taunt her during the apex of the harassment. He had gone so far as to feed Gamergate by calling around to hotels Zoe had stayed at (hoping to corroborate spurious claims of infidelity), all while claiming he was trying to “calm them down.”

Real subtle, dude.

Given the extreme circumstances of Gjoni’s malicious behavior, his gaming of plausible deniability, and the violent rhetoric of the horde he whipped up, the provisions of the protective order included clauses ordering him to cease any broadcasts of Zoe’s personal information (a tactic he used during multiple AMAs with Gamergate to chum the waters) and cease public support of Gamergate — a movement explicitly referred to by the presiding judge in the protective order as a “hate mob.”

A match made in a septic tank.

This became inconvenient for Gjoni, who was planning a “sequel” to his first post to more effectively rain hell down on Zoe. It was at this point that Cernovich got involved, contacting Gjoni to provide counsel for what he perceived as a violation of Gjoni’s First Amendment rights to orchestrate hellfire and harass the shit out of his ex.

It’s not uncommon for First Amendment litigators to take on unpopular causes to vindicate freedom of speech, even causes as caustic as Gamergate. Cernovich’s motivations ran deeper; Since 2004, his personal blog on law, Crime & Federalism, had taken an increasingly hostile stance against women and feminists. Gamergate was the perfect cause célèbre for Mike. In one stroke, he could both become infamous within an otherwise clueless movement based on his legal credentials, and further his social agenda with a new audience of frothing young anti-progressives.

Casual denigration of the discipline you represent seems to be a common thread among the heroes of Gamergate, and Mike Cernovich is no exception; a good look for free speech advocacy would quickly take a backseat to the allure of notoriety for himself. First Amendment law would become a cudgel that Cernovich wields — with exception — to try and destroy lives, if only to give him more room to beat his chest.