DISPATCHES MAY
Act of contrition
Reading E356’s article about the disastrous launch of Cyberpunk 2077, I couldn’t help but find in it a darkly ironic meta-narrative of corporate exploitation. That CDPR dropped a whopper of a ball on this goes without saying, and perhaps such a talkedabout game was always doomed not to live up to expectations. But then something struck me, harking back to Edge Annual Vol 3 and an article about the unionisation of the game industry, where a comment was made that these problems (discussions around unions and crunch culture, among others) shouldn’t appear on the radar of gamers, and shouldn’t stop them enjoying the games.
Shouldn’t they? When I buy a triple-A game from an industry giant, and later find out there have been reports of high-profile sexual harassment, toxic work environments, or where mandatory six-day weeks have been worked by devs since at least 2019 (and, alas, none of these problems are new or unique to this industry), I find myself asking questions of complicity. Am I partly responsible due to buying these games that have been tainted by these stories? If I boycott companies that treat their staff like this, who am I really harming: the company or the developers? And in any case, would my boycotting actually matter? Look at how many preorder copies of Cyberpunk CDPR shipped, making its development costs back before the game even launched and all the bugs came out to play.
If I really enjoy a triple-A game, despite all the murky goings-on in the background, should there also be a measure of guilt to go with that enjoyment? Should I not worry, and just enjoy playing? Part of me sincerely hopes these game companies learn from their mistakes, but then I remember that meta-narrative…
I suppose what I’m trying to ask is whether we as consumers have changed the face of gaming in a negative way? Does anyone remember the olden days when the physical game you purchased was it? There was no extra content, no season passes, no bug fixes, no DLC, no microtransactions – just the game, the disc (or cartridge), a nice manual, and any warts left behind. Is there a dark side to the games we play now, where companies, if they want to retain us as players, constantly have to release new content, squash bugs and reinvent or revamp their offerings just to keep us playing in a world where so much jostles for our attention? Admittedly, it may be rare nowadays for a game to be released that, due to its size and complexity, doesn’t require post-launch support, but is our acceptance of that just eliding some of the nastier issues that have ended up as high-profile news items recently? Have we, in some way, inadvertently created that space, that demand for bigger, better, games, that developers strive to fill and which sometimes leads to burnout, to failure, to stories like that of Cyberpunk? Saying there’s no easy answer is annoying, since that can be used as a justification for not fixing these problems quickly. And for not encouraging players to perhaps look at how we play games, what we want to play, and what we can do to support a better industry.
I find myself turning more and more to smaller indie studios who seem to have found the right balance between interesting content and good working practices – stepping away from the mainstream is refreshing. It’s heartening that so many have been successful, and continue to be successful, and I hope they can continue to set the example for an industry that has lately had a hard time. Everyone involved in gaming does it because they love games
“If I really enjoy a triple-A game, should there also be a measure of guilt to go with that enjoyment?”
(if that’s not too much of a generalisation), and I want to support that. However, it’s hard not to feel like that comes with more baggage than it used to.
Nick Croman
There are plenty of horror stories from those ‘olden days’, too – crunch has been part of videogames since their inception, though there’s now much wider awareness of its human cost. Which is progress, after a fashion: the more these stories are put under the spotlight, the more pressure will be put on the offending companies to change the way they operate.
Digital ash in a digital urn
I found the letter from Fabrice Saffre in your last issue (E356) really thought-provoking. Fabrice rightly worries about the implications of games no longer being physical items. However, I am not sure if that fear is well-placed. A great deal of art is entirely ephemeral and not built to last: a concert, a play, a comedy show. Sure, we might have the script. We might even have the recording. But you will never capture really being there. I don’t think games moving from enduring physical items to ephemeral media necessarily leads to selling out or cashing in. In a recent interview, Maddy Thorson, maker of Celeste and TowerFall, discusses the games that they make that never see the light of day. Other makers create games that might exist for a weekend during an exhibition or game jam and then are gone forever. We don’t need to preserve everything. In fact, some artworks (and, by extension, games) can really shine precisely because they are fleeting.
Joe Crook
We’re reminded of the fictional 1989 horror game Killswitch, whose story went that it was released in limited numbers and deleted itself after you finished it. But it feels like there’s mileage in ‘transient’ games – even if we don’t envy anyone making such a thing.
I’ll be your friend
E356’s Hype intro cites the famous quote from Edge’s early days, regarding talking to the monsters in Doom. You seemed a little embarrassed in saying that this phrase was optimistic, but what if that comment really was just long before its time? It reminds me of something I’ve read in many an Edge past: that games typically feature violence because death is a binary state and thus easier to simulate and code for. It’s much, much harder to create a believable engagement with another character on an emotional level. Once a body lies on the floor (often before vanishing), we rarely question whether that death has occurred, but how much have we been conditioned to repeatedly hit X on an NPC until we’re sure we’ve exhausted all their pre-canned dialogue?
Which led me to thinking, now that AI is ever more capable of passing the Turing test, could this lead to any major changes in gaming experiences or the birth of new genres? Or does killing being easier to simulate neatly coincide with it just being something that gamers really like to do? I’ve not murdered a single real person since I started playing games, and some do hypothesise that gaming allows us to safely take out our primal urges, in a way that having a nice chinwag with a Cacodemon probably wouldn’t quite satisfy.
As games continue to diversify, there’ll certainly be room for both mechanics. But just be warned, Edge – if AI-driven conversations with convincing NPCs ever get out of hand, you may find yourselves writing: “lf only you could just shoot these creatures in the face, then perhaps you wouldn’t have to do so much bloody talking.”
Lee Hyde
We’re deeply grateful for your reassurance that we’re not featuring a murderer in these pages this month. As for that hypothetical review? Reads like a 7, we reckon. Please enjoy a year’s worth of Xbox Game Pass Ultimate – and continue with not murdering people.
The ‘feel good’ revolution
I really believe that virtual reality isn’t talked about enough. The pandemic has been incredibly hard on everyone, especially those like myself with a history of mental illness, but I have to say my saving grace has been the decision to buy an Oculus Quest.
I have spent almost every night since my purchase over a month ago in virtual reality ‘hanging out’ with my friends, something which is prohibited in the real world for the moment. We’ve played golf, blown zombies’ heads off and even gone fishing together – all while not leaving our living rooms! We’ve been seriously missing our usual Saturday night pint in the pub, too, but thanks to VR we’ve been able to meet up as a group, have a few drinks in the house, and have a night full of great chat and laughter together in this virtual world.
Part of why I’m attracted to gaming is that it allows the ability to escape the real world for a small amount of time. That attraction is amplified in virtual reality, since it creates the illusion of actually escaping into a different world. I don’t feel like I’ve been trapped in the house for the past two months – in my mind, I’ve been to many places with my friends and made some great memories. It’s had such a positive effect on our mental health, too. I really am so grateful to all the VR devs out there.
Chris Jannetta
That a spot of fishing feels like a less orthodox pursuit for your group than blowing zombies’ heads off brought a smile to our faces – but then that’s videogames for you. There are plenty of fine-looking VR games coming out in 2021: we’re looking forward to 17-Bit’s survival game Song In The Smoke and the charming Maskmaker, though if you’re after games to play with friends, there’s MMO Zenith: The Last City and co-op shooter After The Fall to escape into later this year. And we’re delighted that you’re feeling better. What is that at the end of the tunnel just there? A flicker of light? Surely not.