People are inescapable. They’re literally everywhere. This isn’t a particularly new phenomenon; they’ve long been known to congregate in places of work or recreation, for example. Sometimes they come to visit me personally, in groups of three or four, or perhaps a few dozen on special occasions, before leaving again once the business of socializing has been satisfactorily concluded. The door they close behind them is the boundary between private and public domain. Or it was, before the internet came crashing through the drywall and made a mess.

We are all of us connected, and even when I’ve convinced the stragglers that it’s time for them to leave Facebook sits there obliviously, beaming the lives of casual acquaintances into my room. Our personal space is taking on new and interesting shapes under the influence of the internet - and gaming, as an exclusively digital pursuit, is better placed than most to exploit its potential.

Whether through cooperative play, violent clashes, critical discussion or content creation, games connect people in a way that their cultural siblings cannot. They are not passive constructs to be absorbed without input, they are built to be played with. While booksellers and filmmakers find themselves divided as to how best to wield their online tools and engage an expanding audience, games have been interactive since their inception.

The freedom that the internet affords publishers, devs and players alike is staggering. Games can be distributed digitally, updated remotely, monitored – for better or worse – for signs of piracy and provide a nucleus for massive international communities. Ambitious projects are increasingly crowd-funded through sites such as Kickstarter, utilizing the internet’s colossal scope as a marketing platform to seek the benefaction of thousands. The woes that have befallen high-street book store pale in comparison to the plight of the bricks-and-mortar game shop.

To visualize the ease with which games have staked their virtual territory we need only look to Steam, a program developed by Valve and first released in 2002. Its intended purpose? Nothing more than an interface through which Valve could better update their games. However, in just ten years it has sprawled to encompass a software market, games library, Cloud service and community hub for over 54 million active users. Nor is it confined to the PC; with the recent release of its ‘Big Picture’ mode Steam is now fully optimised for display on the living room TV. Fifty-four million randomers have just taken up residence on the couch.

Games reside everywhere: at home and on phones and on social networks. They offer on-demand interaction uniquely suited to a society which is perpetually connecting over everything from schooling to socializing. In amusing contrast to the long-held stereotype of antisocial shut-ins, gamers are strongly placed to hold sway over an integrating world.

Catch up with Angus' last column, Re:roll - Week 4, on the rise of the CoD clones. 

Angus Morrison runs a YouTube channel on games and their critical reception at www.youtube.com/RErollGaming