It was a Tuesday evening, just a regular quick-play session in Marvel Rivals, when I first saw it. I spawned in as Spider-Man, ready to web-swing across the Tokyo 2099 map, only to find my Venom teammate facing away from the objective. His back was arched, hips moving in a rhythm that could only be described as... twerking. I froze, half-convinced my graphics card was having a meltdown. But no, there it was—the iconic symbiote, cheeks practically clapping, in what might be the most audacious emote ever dropped into a hero shooter. NetEase had really done it. Lo and behold, the Venom twerking emote is live, and it’s all over the servers.

A Symbiote’s Seductive Shake

The emote, officially labelled something innocent like "Symbiote Strut," is anything but subtle. Paired with a flashy new bright orange skin—affectionately dubbed "Cheeto Venom" by the community—the whole package screams chaotic energy. When you activate it, Venom plants his massive claws on his knees, arches that enormous back, and just... goes to town. The animation loops smoothly, a perfect blend of menace and absurdity. I’ve seen countless heroes stop mid-fight to stare. Even the enemy team sometimes pauses, caught between disgust and laughter. It’s the kind of thing that makes you question whether you’re in a competitive shooter or a late-night meme compilation.

Marvel Rivals hasn’t shied away from being silly. From the inclusion of Jeff the Land Shark as a fully playable character who can swallow entire teams, to the recent Clone Rumble mode where you can stack six Venoms, and even Moon Knight’s in-game line referencing the fan-memed Dracula debt, NetEase has always owned the inherent goofiness of the superhero genre. The twerking emote feels like the natural endpoint of that philosophy—a “yeah, we went there” moment that cements the game’s identity as equal parts brawler and meme machine.

Clone Rumble Twerk Parties

Things get truly unhinged in Clone Rumble. For the uninitiated, this limited-time mode allows an entire team to pick the same character. Naturally, squads of six Venoms have become the meta of mischief. Picture this: the objective is a chaotic mess of black goo, tendrils, and six symbiote butts bouncing in unison. I joined one such lobby where both teams had unanimously selected Venom. What followed wasn’t a match—it was a dance-off. Nobody touched the payload. Nobody fired a shot. For ten straight minutes, twelve Venoms formed a twerk circle, shaking their booties like they’d just crushed Spider-Man’s skull once and for all. A player on voice chat screamed, “This is canon now!” and honestly, who could argue?

Redditor KindredKate documented a similar happening, capturing a screenshot of a ring of Venoms mid-twerk. The post blew up, amassing thousands of upvotes and comments ranging from “Greatest emote in gaming history” to “I need bleach for my eyes.” It’s pure, unadulterated joy—the kind of emergent silliness that reminds me why gaming communities are so special. You log on expecting a sweaty brawl and end up in a symbiote strip club. Go figure.

The Community’s Split Reaction

Of course, not everyone’s laughing. This emote has split the player base faster than Adam Warlock can resurrect an entire team. The Clone Rumble shenanigans are one thing—it’s a playground for goof-offs—but the twerking has spilled heavily into Quick Play and even Competitive. I’ve experienced it firsthand: a Venom on my team spent the entire first round twerking in a corner, contributing exactly zero damage. When I politely asked them to join the fight, they responded with nothing but a rhythmic wiggle. We lost. Spectacularly.

One frustrated player vented on the same subreddit: “They did nothing the whole round except twerk. Incredibly frustrating. I get the joke. But at a certain point (pretty quick) you’re ruining other people’s good time for it. Do it in DM. Do it in clone rumble. Go nuts. Just not in comp or qp.” That sentiment echoes across Discord servers and forum threads. Another player detailed a Quick Play match where both teams’ Venoms spent the entire match twerking, turning it into a 5-on-5. “I kind of respect the commitment and that neither broke it making it a fair game, but man what a waste of time for a joke. It’s going to get tiresome quick.”

The phrase “twerk simulator” now pops up in match chat whenever a Venom locks in and immediately starts shaking. Some players even dodge lobbies if they see a Venom with that particular orange skin, assuming trouble. I’ve started doing it too—pre-emptively dodging, that is. Ain’t nobody got time for a thrower when you’re grinding ranks.

The Fine Line Between Fun and Frustration

There’s an unspoken social contract in hero shooters: you queue up, you try to play the objective. When someone dedicates an entire match to an emote, they’re essentially saying their joke is more important than four or eleven other people’s time. And let’s be real, the joke has a shelf life. The first time you see Venom twerking, you spit out your drink. The tenth time, you sigh and wonder if reporting for gameplay sabotage actually does anything.

I’m not a killjoy by any stretch. I’ve spammed emotes before—who hasn’t flexed after a multikill? But there’s a difference between a three-second victory shimmy and AFK twerking while your team gets obliterated. NetEase likely intended this emote as a cheeky cosmetic, not a license to troll. Yet without a vote-to-kick feature or stricter penalties for non-participation, the community’s patience is wearing thin. I’ve seen matches where the entire team mass-reported the twerking Venom, and nothing seemed to happen. It’s a bummer, plain and simple.

What makes it sting more is that the emote itself is undeniably hilarious. In the right context—like a post-match screen or a custom game lobby—it’s pure serotonin. The animation detail is absurd: you can see the symbiote’s goo rippling with each shake, the idle sound effect a deep, guttural chortle. The developers clearly poured love into this. It’s just that the player base, being the chaotic gremlins we are, has weaponized that love.

NetEase’s Embrace of the Silliness

It’s worth zooming out to appreciate the bigger picture. NetEase is operating under the watchful eye of Marvel Games—and by extension, Disney. The fact that a twerking Venom emote got the green light is nothing short of miraculous. This is the same corporate universe that once sanitized Deadpool’s humor, yet here we are, with an officially licensed emote that feels ripped straight from a VRChat club. It’s a testament to the dev team’s confidence in Marvel Rivals’s tone. They’re not afraid to be a little cringe if it means the players create memories.

I mean, think about it: when was the last time a cosmetic in a competitive game became this much of a cultural flashpoint? The last thing I remember was Overwatch’s “Dance” emotes, but even those didn’t have the same… suggestive energy. Venom twerking isn’t just an emote; it’s a statement. It says, “We know you’ve been memeing Spider-Man’s emo dance from Spider-Man 3; here’s our unhinged answer.” And I’m here for it—when it’s not ruining my ranked climb.

Perhaps the solution lies in smarter design: restrict certain emotes from being used repeatedly or during active combat. Some players have suggested a “twerk cooldown” as a joke, but a hidden timer that prevents emote spamming during ranked matches might actually help. Or maybe the meme will simply burn out once the novelty fades. After all, the internet moves fast; today’s twerking Venom is tomorrow’s forgotten b-roll.

Living in a Post-Twerk World

As I queue into another game tonight, I check the hero select screen with fresh paranoia. Two players instantly lock DPS, someone hovers Spider-Man, and then—yep, a Venom locks in. I hold my breath. The match begins, and to my relief, our Venom swings toward the objective, tendrils lashing. But after the first team fight, in the calm before the storm, he hits the emote. Just a quick shake, a cheeky little clap, then back to the fight. I exhale. See? It’s possible to have your cake and twerk it too.

Marvel Rivals’ Venom twerking emote is a glorious mess of good intentions and unintended consequences. It exemplifies everything I adore and sometimes loathe about online multiplayer: the creativity, the humor, the trolling, the camaraderie, the frustration. It’s a digital Rorschach test—you either see a fun-loving community or a bunch of jerks ruining your evening. Wherever you stand, one thing’s for sure: for better or worse, Venom’s got back, and he’s not afraid to use it.

Just please, for the love of Galacta, keep it out of Competitive. My rank can’t handle any more of that cake.