Digital Playground Fucking Teens These Days

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Digital Playground Fucking Teens These Days
Roblox presents itself to parents as a safe space for kids. Behind the scenes, it’s waging a technological shadow war against condo games: digital sex parties where kids are flirting with danger.

[Source images: IULIIA MARCHENKO/iStock; cienpies/iStock; Bigmouse108/iStock; Yuriy Altukhov/iStock; Tatyana Larina/iStock; Bigmouse108/iStock]

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When he was still just 11 years old, the Roblox player known as Dazzely enjoyed games the old-fashioned way: He played them. 
Back in 2012, Roblox, the massive online gaming platform , had plenty to offer him. He created his first avatar for free, styled its cylindrical head and clothed its blocky body. Then, choosing from the list of over a million titles on Roblox.com, Dazzely placed the little man in one game after another: He jumped him through obstacle courses, buckled him into race cars, and built him forts. Using free software called Roblox Studio, Dazzely could even construct his own games. That was the idea: Roblox’s creators envisioned the platform as a vast and ever-changing digital playground where kids crafted whatever they desired—games, clothing, structures, landscapes.
Dazzely continued playing Roblox as he grew up, and the platform matured with him. In 2013, Roblox introduced a way to convert its virtual currency, Robux, back into real dollars. A primitive economy—developers peddling virtual items like sunglasses or limited edition hats—evolved into a more complex one. Older kids began working for one another and performing specialized roles, as artists, builders, and game scripters.
It wasn’t the floor plan that caught his attention. It was the writhing crowd of naked Roblox avatars.
Roblox today is the product of its over 150 million monthly active users. What began as a sandbox now resembles a scrappy cybernation of teens and tweens whose population rivals that of Japan. And the dollars are real: Players poured more than $490 million into Roblox via mobile devices in the first half of 2020 alone, according to Sensor Tower data. Roblox projects that its user-developers—many of whom are Roblox veterans in their late teens and early twenties—will earn more than $250 million from selling access to their creations this year. The company, which is valued at $4 billion, takes roughly 65 cents of every U.S. dollar when developers cash out.
Dazzely, who is now 19 and whose real name is Dylan Lemus-Olson, holds a unique occupation in this booming super-metropolis: He’s a muckraking YouTube personality. Part tabloid reporter, part internet troll, he pokes around Roblox’s dark corners and uploads his exploits to the video platform, where he has more than 53,000 subscribers. As it turns out, there are plenty of shadows for him to explore.
For Dazzely, it was a push notification on a school night in 2017 that knocked him tumbling into Roblox’s red light district—a direct message via Discord, the online chat application that’s frequently used by gamers. The text contained a hyperlink to a Roblox game called, simply, “The Condo.” Dazzely hesitated briefly, then clicked. 
They were the same blocky-headed, Lego-esque characters as in all Roblox games. Except these avatars sported profanely exaggerated anatomies, and the speech bubbles above their heads were a lurid cloud of curse words and slurs. Freedom of speech wasn’t the only thing these pixelated hedonists were exercising, either.
Someone must have hacked the Roblox child safety filters, Dazzely concluded.
He hit a button to start recording his screen. He leaned into his computer’s microphone and began to provide humorous narration for his then-nascent YouTube channel. The following morning, when Dazzely logged into his YouTube account and saw that his video had already received 1,000 views, Roblox stopped being child’s play for him. He had found his calling. 
To the uninitiated, 21st-century gaming resembles its 16-bit past in one respect, at least: Players still mash controllers and keyboards to make characters run around the screen. But games today do more than kill time. They anchor teeming reefs of social life. Fans play together inside the games themselves, but they also school around adjacent sites—streaming their gameplay for one another on Twitch, posting videos on YouTube, sharing memes via Discord. Titles as ancient as Super Mario Brothers now support flourishing communities online (Google “Kaizo Mario”). But the games that inspire some of the most vibrant ecosystems are the massively open ones where users make their own fun— Minecraft , Fortnite , and, especially, Roblox. 
For David Baszucki, Roblox’s cocreator and longtime CEO, this sprawling social world is the game’s best feature, and a sign of the media metaverse to come. Platforms like Roblox represent “a new category of human co-experience and freedom” he says, one that blends video games and social media. “We’re in this unique opportunity to be its shepherds.”
That means overseeing a world that’s filled with children. Though Roblox doesn’t disclose the ages of its users, it does say that the majority of them are under 18—and that at least half of U.S. kids ages 16 and under are on the platform. A December 2017 study by Comscore found that kids between the ages of 5 and 9 spend more time playing Roblox than doing anything else online on PCs; for those between the ages of 9 and 18, only YouTube consumes more of their online attention.
At a time of social distancing, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Child development specialists increasingly see these multiplayer spaces as a source of lessons for kids about social rules, teamwork, and self-regulation. Online games and their adjacent video-streaming and chat sites also engender a sense of belonging and camaraderie. “We have to understand games the same way we understand playground play,” says Jordan Shapiro, a psychology researcher at Temple University and author of The New Childhood . 
Indeed, many kids arrive on Roblox determined to play their favorite kind of make-believe: pretending at adult life. Games simulating grownup activities, such as caring for pets and babies (“Adopt Me!”), getting jobs (“Working at a Pizza Place”), and driving cars (“Jailbreak,” “Driving Simulator”), collectively rack up tens of billions of visits.
Kids between the ages of 5 and 9 spend more time playing Roblox than doing anything else online on PCs.
“We want kids to have an opportunity for free play,” Baszucki says. “Roblox allows them to get together, make their own rules, go together wherever they might want . . . and create together, build together, and in many cases, learn together.” But as the leaders of Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube have learned, maintaining control of a platform as it grows up isn’t easy. And Roblox, which turns 16 in September, has the added challenge of chaperoning a platform tailor-made for young users who love tinkering with software.
“Roblox is where I learned to hack,” says Quinn Wilton, a security researcher who spent her childhood playing the game and now works at the software security firm Synopsys. Given the choice between facing off against professional hackers or a mob of unruly teens, Wilton says she’d pick the former every time. “A teenager is hacking for ego, fame, respect—and they have endless amounts of time,” she says. 
Kids test boundaries, and teenage desires don’t fit neatly into terms of service. On Roblox, these digitally savvy adolescents are growing up fast—and putting their avatars and themselves in dangerous positions.
It was 7 a.m. eastern on a May morning, and in a Roblox game titled “Haha~~;)” only a few players meandered around the palm tree-lined pool at a party house created by a group known as The Cons. In real life, this house might have functioned as a corporate event space—one could imagine its airy foyer filled with executives in chinos and name tags, nursing bad red wine. The Cons clearly envisioned their guests getting down to adult business as well, albeit of a different sort. Their den showcased an array of sex toys. The private rooms upstairs were furnished only with beds. The basement was a torch-lit sex dungeon. 
The Haha house would eventually be visited by players more than 600 times in its few hours of existence, but for now it was relatively quiet. Inside, the only soul stirring was a solitary male figure in the home’s open-concept kitchen, recumbent on the breakfast bar. Judging by the motions proximate to his pelvis polygons, he was pleasuring himself. Elsewhere in the house, a player requested a private game server with another—so they could enter an identical, empty copy of the party house and carry on their interactions alone. 
Roblox has been praised by child safety advocates for its dedication to safeguarding users. It maintains strict in-game rules, among them: no cyberbullying and harassment; no discriminatory, threatening, or overly violent behavior; and no looking for dates or engaging in sexual behavior of any kind. Players under 13 (you must enter a birthdate to create an account, though the company does not verify it) are prohibited from receiving direct messages from other users unless parents add those names to a friends list. Parents can set up additional controls, such as limiting the child to playing curated, pre-vetted games.
By sharing content via other parts of the gaming ecosystem, players exploit the fact that Roblox’s enforcement mechanisms end at its own platform.
Roblox enforces these rules vigorously, censoring in-game chats with software filters, watching player activity with the help of AI, and responding to problems with a battalion of more than 1,600 human content moderators, 24/7. Law enforcement agencies have held up the platform’s multilayered approach to security as a gold standard. “Roblox is very much an industry leader,” says Steven Grocki, chief of the Child Exploitation and Obscenity Section at the U.S. Department of Justice. 
Yet for years, the company has quietly waged a technological shadow war against some of its own young users. These players have exploited Roblox to allow them to curse, upload explicit content, and manipulate games in ways the company never intended. And by sharing content via other parts of the gaming ecosystem—most notably Discord, which allows users to talk to one another via text, voice, and video, either one-on-one or in groups—they exploit the fact that Roblox’s enforcement mechanisms end at its own platform. It’s a shortcoming that can leave Roblox users far less protected than their parents might think. (Roblox says it works “diligently with other chat, social media, and User Generated Content platforms to report bad actors and content,” though it’s up to these platforms to take “appropriate action.”) 
“This is an adversarial kind of situation . . . [and] we know that the bad actors are not going to stop,” says a top Roblox safety representative, who requested that his name be withheld.
Their sudden appearance isn’t magic. The constellation of gamers’ favorite websites points the way. And these sites each have their own content standards. Roblox censors the word “condo,” but Reddit’s gamer groups can easily discuss these kinds of games. YouTube requires videos that depict the games’ most explicit moments to carry an age restriction, but it allows anyone to watch videos that explain how to find condo games. Discord is most helpful: Fast Company easily located some 150 Discord groups (also called “servers”) that are devoted to explicit Roblox content. 
These servers—a couple of which have more than 10,000 users each—are home to roving camps of Roblox’s “bad actors”: the game-exploiters, the content-bypassers, and the condo creators themselves. They use Discord groups to mingle, boast about their exploits, share links to new condo games, and chat amongst themselves while in the game. Discord doesn’t prohibit linking to Roblox sex games, but says that all adult content must be relegated to channels and servers explicitly marked for ages 18 and older. In a statement, the company said that it “takes immediate action” if it finds out that users have lied about their age. (Discord doesn’t verify users’ ages at sign-up.) 
These gamers, who spoke with Fast Company via Discord’s text and voice chat over a period of four weeks, describe themselves as longtime Roblox players who got into condos for the thrills, status, and money involved: Hacking a big platform and outwitting the Roblox commissars is an exciting challenge, they say, and there can be tidy business in selling in-game administrative privileges, which allow a player to fly and teleport, manipulate other users’ avatars, or even kick out other players. 
Reviewing the chat-logs of these condo servers— Fast Company extracted and examined the logs from 31 of them, a stream of gamerchat that would run over 910,000 pages if printed out in six-point font—painted a picture of unsupervised adolescence in the age of massive online games. These appear to be kids with one foot still planted in Roblox, the digital playspace of their childhood, and the other extended to Discord’s more brazenly adult world. The all-lowercase text conversations reek of classic teenage boredom, a state made all the worse by COVID-19’s shelter-in-place orders. “I’d rather be outside hanging with my friends or something,” one condo owner said.
The burden of protecting one another in these games and chats often falls on the teens’ shoulders.
Yet these germ-free virtual spaces are hardly safe, even when the danger is difficult to discern. Some condo-themed Discord servers advertise themselves as inclusive and friendly. Other servers are riddled with racial slurs and hate speech; one Discord server devoted to Roblox condo games had a very active user with the username “WhiteSupremacist004.”
The world of condo games is a place where kids act like adults, adults may be posing as kids, and parents seem to be completely absent. Meanwhile the grown-ups who do have a vantage point into what’s going on—those running Roblox and Discord—seem incapable of fully shutting down this content and unwilling to publicly share all that they know. As a result, the burden of protecting one another in these games and chats often falls on the teens’ shoulders. 
For K., the journey into condos began when he couldn’t find players for his G-rated Roblox games. 
The 16-year-old struggled for nearly three years—his entire postpubescent life, basically—to make a hit game, but never managed to stand out from the tens of thousands of new games that are uploaded to Roblox every day. So this summer, he paid 1,000 Robux, or around $10, to a guy he’d met on Discord, who sent him the complete code for a condo game, which would allow K. to replicate it (with a few tweaks) each time Roblox’s content moderators shut it down. As Roblox investments went, K. felt it was a sure bet. “I’m like, I want to be rich on Roblox, too,” he said, referencing players he’d met with fat Robux accounts and virtual items galore. Then he created his own Discord server and got to work. 
Like most Discord condo servers, K.’s functioned like an airport lounge, keeping members occupied and happy while they awaited the next game. In a dedicated channel that he named #condo-uploads, condo game links arrived as he uploaded them and departed as Roblox shut them down. Users could shoot the breeze in the #general chat, or hop on the #NSFW channels, which housed a near-constant stream of obscene photos and animated gifs. (Larger servers sometimes dedicate boutique channels to other black-market specialties in the Roblox underworld: game cheats, explicit music hacks, homemade Roblox porn).   
Speaking to Fast Company after five days on the job, K. said he felt as though he had the basics down: He and a couple friends generated a bunch of throwaway Roblox accounts, fired up a VPN to mask their traffic, and uploaded game after game from their burner accounts. He made money, he said, by selling virtual t-shirts through a different Roblox account. When players showed up in his condo game wearing one of these shirts, K. would grant them administrative privileges. He managed to make nearly 3,000 Robux, he says, money which he spent entirely on Roblox items. But a week later, K. was knocked out of the condo racket: Roblox had identified his computer’s device ID and “hardware-blocked” him. 
Few of the condo operators Fast Company spoke with admit to visiting their own games. That might get them a reputation as an “ODer,” a derogatory term meaning “online dater.” One owner, who says he is 17 and has been running a condo server for over two years, did cop to playing his games, but sniffs at calling them condos. He says he caters to a more mature, exclusive userbase; he prefers the term “ERP,” which stands for “erotic role-play.”
It’s exactly this combination—the perception of adult freedoms mixed with graphic, emotionless sex—that’s worrisome.
With all respect to the clientele of maison ERP, there’s nothing remotely erotic about these games. The digital gyrations are ridiculous, if impossible to unsee: thong-clad Roblox avatars twerking on stripper poles; beefy blond avatars buck naked except for COVID masks (written on the walls in this particular game: “#stayathomehub”), and enough crudely animated contortions to fill several volumes of the Kama Sutra (should Lego ever decide to publish an edition). 
Judging by the in-game comments, most Roblox players find Condo games gross, at least when they first encounter them. (“EEEEWWWW,” wrote one player, upon arriving in a condo game in May.) But they also find them liberating—the digital equivalent of an empty house where the parents are out of town. “tbh ill probably only come here to swear,” chatted one user in a condo game in May. “fuck dat sex shit im here for the bad words.”  
It’s exactly this combination—the perception of adult freedoms mixed with graphic, emotionless sex—that’s worrisome. Two experts on child predators who reviewed footage from condo games declared that they presented textbook terrain for predators looking to groom children for sexual abuse: “For somebody who wants to [prey on children], these types of environments make it very easy for them,” says Elizabeth Jeglic, a psychology professor who researches sexual violence at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City. The games’ cheerful, colorful settings makes them all the more insidious.   
But not all condo operators are committed to safeguarding their users. Three essentially shrugged when asked what precautions they take (“I can’t tell if [players] lie about their age,” said one. “I just don’t care,” said another. “If horny little kids get catfished by pedophiles on condos then sorry this is becoming natural selection,” chatted another user in a condo server in April.) Y., a condo owner who claims to be 15 and operates a Discord server with more than 3,500 members, said he actually profits from predatory activity by soliciting sexualized photos from female users he meets on Discord and packaging those photos for interested buyers. ( Fast Company reported Y.’s account of this activity to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.)
Y., a condo owner who claims to be 15, said he actually profits from predatory activity by soliciting sexualized photos from female users he meets on Discord.
It’s difficult to track the real extent of criminal activity i
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