ARE SPOILERS REALLY SO BAD? WHAT COULD BE POSSIBLE IF WE WERE SLIGHTLY LESS PRECIOUS ABOUT THEM?

Spoil us rotten! Then we’ll talk

Allegedly, spoilers for The Last Of Us Part II have been leaked online. Mute those keywords now, because this leak has kicked up yet another spoiler culture discussion (though maybe we should re-examine the crunch and collective labour action convo too). I won’t be divulging anything that may or may not happen in TLOU2 here, but the same can’t be said for a particular Remake. You have been warned.

If you play JRPGs, chances are Final Fantasy VII has always loomed somewhere in your stratosphere; fan or not, you know the plate falls on Sector 7, Aerith dies, and that’s not Sephiroth’s final form. Despite a large part of Square’s release schedule over the last 20 years relying on at least some familiarity with Final Fantasy VII’s plot, there’s still the expectation that spoilers should be quarantined online – if you’ll forgive the timely expression. That expectation of ‘make it hard to stumble across but easy to seek out’ seldom extends to reviews or other post-release press, though. But as a bairn desperate to be part of the conversation but without the cash to fund first-hand experience, seek out spoilers I did.

Knowing Aerith is killed by Sephiroth is one thing, but spending time with Aerith, growing attached to her, and slowly realising how painful it will be to lose her is totally different. Like so many weebs in the mid-oughties, I watched Advent Children without playing Final Fantasy VII. The film pitched Aerith as a pure maiden Lifestream ghost, prompting eye-rolling disinterest from teenaged me. That impression has been redressed by playing the original game and Remake in quick succession. There’s a lacuna between knowing Aerith dies and knowing why that’s a moment that has stuck with so many for so long.

SPOILING FOR A FIGHT

With Remake I’m almost looking forward to the emotional devastation that’s coming. Not because I don’t like Aerith, but because I’ve spent the time getting to know her on the games’ own terms. Now I’m going to get the whole story for myself.

As just another member of the audience, spoilers are a tool that help me gauge whether I’m on board with a title’s shenanigans – or not. Once spoiled, I can appreciate all the threads leading up to a twist (and some scientific literature even suggests that being spoiled can heighten your enjoyment of a piece of media). As an industry professional, I can’t get away from spoilers; whether I’m reporting on leaks or covering a long-running series, spoilers are part of the job. It makes sense to avoid divulging those spoilers pre-release, but how long after does the secret need to be kept?

I’m not pro ‘sliding into someone’s DMs just to spoil them’ because that’s a sword-in-the-gut-move no matter which way you slice it. But that’s very different to seeing a headline like ‘Why this Remake twist is the best in years,’ and then angrily commenting about spoilers. In the process of reviewing a title, avoiding spoilers means avoiding in-depth discussion of crucial elements of a game and that can hamper journalists’ ability to properly inform, and kneecaps the scope of post-release coverage.

If you love games then you care about how they’re put together – the big reveal and everything leading up to it included. Spoilers aren’t a stand-in for first-hand experience and they rarely truly detract from any eventual enjoyment of a game. Perhaps it’s time to rehabilitate their image… though coming from someone with the dubious title of ‘Queen Of Spoilers,’ maybe that’s a bit rich.