Words Matter: Why “Accessibility” and “Availability” Aren’t Interchangeable

There’s a moment in every conversation about accessibility in games where the air changes — where a word is used with the best intentions, but it’s the wrong word. It’s subtle, it’s often unintentional, and it happens a lot.

“I’m so glad the devs made this more accessible! It’s finally on Xbox.”“This game isn’t accessible to me — it’s $70.”

While technically true in the everyday human language, the difference in meaning is much more impactful when discussing accessibility in games. Here’s the thing: sometimes when people say “accessibility,” what they really mean is availability. And while it might sound like a small slip, this mix-up matters — a lot.

Let’s get into it!

Accessibility vs. Availability: Let’s Break It Down

Accessibility in gaming is about removing barriers — physical, sensory, cognitive, or otherwise — so that more people can play. That means things like:

• Customizable controls for players with mobility differences

• Screen readers and navigable UI for blind or low-vision players

• Subtitles and visual cues for d/Deaf and hard of hearing players

• Cognitive load adjustments for neurodivergent players

Accessibility is a technical, often complex, and always intentional effort to build a game that includes, not just exists. It’s not just a toggle or a checkbox — it’s systemic design thinking that acknowledges how different bodies and brains interact with technology.

Availability, on the other hand, is about access to the product itself. Is it on your platform? Is it localized in your language? Is it priced appropriately for your region? Can you get it? That’s availability.

Both are important. But they are not the same.

Why the Verbiage Mix-Up Is a Bigger Deal Than You Might Think

When we conflate these terms, it can unintentionally erase the labor, advocacy, and lived experiences behind true accessibility work.

Let’s say a developer adds a game to Steam after being console-exclusive for a year. That’s a win for availability — more people can now purchase and download it. However, if we call that an “accessibility win,” we’re implying that being on Steam was the barrier, rather than the absence of features like remappable controls or colorblind filters.

This can lead to situations where accessibility progress is overstated — or worse, where actual accessibility needs are deprioritized because the box is already “checked.” It muddles the water in press coverage, in community feedback, and internal discussions about development priorities.

For disabled players — especially those who’ve been advocating for these changes for years — this confusion can feel like a dismissal. It dilutes the very real push for equity into a generalized “good vibes” conversation. We should be celebrating both types of progress, but let’s call them what they are.

Why Language Matters in Game Development

Words are tools. In game dev, we know this — just look at how carefully we name features, describe mechanics, and write dialogue. Language sets expectations, defines scope, and communicates intent.

Using precise, intentional language around accessibility is an act of respect. It tells disabled players:

• We see you.

• We understand your needs are different from marketing reach or price drops.

• We’re not just checking a box — we’re designing with you in mind.

It also helps studios plan better. When accessibility is framed correctly, it becomes part of early dev conversations. It gets resources. It’s tested. It’s prioritized. And when we call something “accessible,” that isn’t? We make it harder for the real thing to get the attention it deserves.

Let’s Get Comfortable Being Specific

There’s no shame in mixing up the words — we’ve all done it. What matters is learning, adjusting, and moving forward.

If a game becomes available on more platforms? That’s fantastic — say so! If a patch finally adds subtitle size options, high contrast mode, or one-handed control schemes? That’s an accessibility win. Shout it from the rooftops. Just don’t treat them like interchangeable milestones. They serve different audiences, different needs, and different parts of the player experience.

In short? Precision builds trust. And in a space where the goal is to make everyone feel like they belong, trust is everything.

Let’s use our words with intention — and keep building games that welcome everyone in.