“I don’t want to be treated like an option,” retorted Kent, a searchee on “Step in the Name of Love,” after searcher Ashlianna chose to continue the game despite his technical win. A segment in It’s Showtime, the show lets searchers make searchees step up or down based on interest, with searchees responding in kind. In the end, Ashlianna went on a date with another contestant, Tyrone—leaving Kent with the bitter truth that in the game of love, winning doesn’t always mean finding a real connection.

Many Filipinos find amusement in dating game shows because of blunt remarks, meme-worthy moments, or atypical contestants. But beyond this surface-level interest lies our growing, almost subconscious affinity for anything gamified: a symptom of a society slowly becoming structured by the logic of games.

This gamified logic hits closest to home for Filipino Gen Zs, whose encounters with dating may occasionally blur the line between spectacle and sincerity. In a culture increasingly shaped by swipes and carefully curated profiles, kilig is no longer always intentionally built, but can sometimes seem calculated and played out with an audience in mind.

Present-day dating shows expose a veiled truth: Beyond the pursuit of achieving real love lies a world increasingly shaped by systems of gamification that reduce romance to a game we are expected to play.

Replay

Before the transition of Filipino dating from the slow-burning, value-laden courtship to something more direct and Westernized, Filipinos practiced romantic rituals rooted in patience, subtlety, and familial involvement. Traditions like panliligaw, panunuyo, and paninilbihan emphasized a culture where love had to be earned through effort, and the recognition of one’s sincerity by both kin and community.

This has long been changed since the rise of technology, where intimacy is mediated and negotiated on screens, through swipes and along algorithms. As per researchers from the Philippine Normal University, apps like Tinder represent a new way of courtship for Filipino millennials, significantly altering or even replacing elements of the traditional Filipino panliligaw.

With apps such as Tinder, Bumble, and Grindr, connections are made with a swipe of a thumb, filtered through polished photos. Dating is then played like a game—one flick at a time. What was once a slow, uncertain process now runs on game-like mechanics, where the thrill of swiping can often overshadow the slow and steady work of really getting to know someone. 

This technology-driven reshaping of dating echoes psychology professor Karim Nader’s argument that dating applications dangerously reduce the complex process of dating into a simplified game. The main goal now is to merely match with other people, often at the expense of building meaningful relationships.

But long before dating apps and gamified romance, it was television dating shows that first reimagined love into a game. Both globally and in the Philippines, these shows have long turned love into a competition and a performance—something to ultimately win.

New Game

Dating shows have long been part of television history, beginning with “The Dating Game” in the US in 1965. Since then, dating shows have evolved into a global phenomenon, adding more layers of drama, challenges, and audience participation. Cultural variations have emerged, such as South Korea’s “Singles’ Inferno,” the UK’s “Love Island,” and Japan’s “Ainori Love Wagon.”

In the Philippines, dating shows have also become a television staple, whether locally produced or imported. This includes the 2010 adaptation of “Take Me Out” and recent titles such as “Sparks Camp,“ ”Step in the Name of Love,“ and “Pusuan or Laruan.” Filipinos resonate with these shows not just for the kilig but also for the comfort they offer—that love, too, can be treated like a game in a world already burdened with serious issues.

This is evident in “Sparks Camp,“ where 10 young men arrive at an outdoor camp hoping to find a mutual spark through activities, challenges, and one-on-one dates, all set within a competitive environment. As one of the few mainstream Filipino shows to center queer romance, this show marks a significant step for queer visibility in media. However, within this breakthrough, the structure of love as a game stays put.

In contrast to traditional Filipino dating rooted in quiet persistence, the show frames romance as a competition, making love feel less like something to nurture and more like a trophy to be won at all costs.

Level Up

Playing a game is the voluntary attempt to overcome superfluous barriers to reach a certain goal, using only the permitted means, according to philosopher Bernard Suits in his book “The Grasshopper: Games, Life, and Utopia.” Put simply, playing a game extends beyond sports and video games. In dating shows, the chase is confined to the show’s rules—elimination rounds, time limits, and isolation from the real world—all of which turn romance into a prize under artificial conditions.

When people treat real life as a game, they risk devaluing serious goals to mere sources of self-satisfaction by imposing artificial challenges on pursuits that are meaningful in themselves, philosophy researcher Daniel Johnson argues. This gamification of life can be seen further in friendship traced through TikTok streaks, health measured by step goals, productivity turned into point systems, and, of course, love as a prize in dating shows.

Yet, there lies a contradiction at the heart of our viewing habits: While we indulge in the flashy and strategic spectacle of gamified romance in dating shows, we are still drawn to the effort and persistence they portray, echoing the Filipino belief that love and anything good must be earned through hard work and sincerity.

This suggests that even within the trappings of a game, we’re still searching for something real—more so proving that love, in whatever context or packaging, still demands authenticity. It is this tension, being caught between spectacle and the longing for substance, that makes these shows compelling, as it reflects our conflicted notions about love. 

There is no denying that love can still emerge in dating shows, real and sincere, despite it being structured around the logic of a game. However, there is great danger as we indulge in this kind of spectacle on our screens. The more we begin to live by it, we may forget, all too easily, that love in its essence was never meant to keep score. ●

First published in the June 19, 2025 print edition of the Collegian.