{"id":26,"date":"2024-05-10T16:32:59","date_gmt":"2024-05-10T16:32:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/?p=26"},"modified":"2024-05-10T16:32:59","modified_gmt":"2024-05-10T16:32:59","slug":"game-over-or-continue-the-uncertain-future-of-video-game-journalism","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/game-over-or-continue-the-uncertain-future-of-video-game-journalism\/","title":{"rendered":"Game Over or Continue? The Uncertain Future of Video Game Journalism."},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"
The Peacock Theater on the day of The Game Awards, December 7, 2023 (Source: Gabriel Vasconcellos)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

On a December afternoon in downtown LA, the lobby of the J.W. Marriott is packed with game developers, journalists, and other attendees eager to watch the annual Game Awards, the industry\u2019s equivalent to the Oscars. Surrounding me are people exchanging business cards like Pok\u00e9mon on the school playground. The dress code is an amalgamation of a formal conference and a fan convention. Some people are wearing suits for the night, while others are rocking their studio\u2019s logo on a T-shirt; of note is Swen Vicke, the director behind fan favorite Game of the Year nominee Baldur\u2019s Gate 3, who is wearing a full suit of armor<\/a>. As one attendee tells me, \u201cthe whole industry is here.\u201d But hidden among the excitement and anticipation for the incoming awards is poignancy: pins and stickers with the number \u201c7,000,\u201d representing the then-estimated total of laid-off workers in the gaming industry. It is akin to a silent protest, accompanied by union workers picketing<\/a> just outside the venue for the show. The Game Awards showcased an ongoing mirage: 2023 was a remarkable year<\/a> for video games and the people who play them, but at what cost?<\/p>\n

I strike up a conversation with a reporter on a nearby couch, Trone Dowd. He works for a news site called The Messenger. Out of curiosity, I look it up, finding a front page dedicated to the latest political news. I\u2019m thinking I landed on the wrong site until I find Dowd\u2019s most recent article hidden behind the tech section, \u201c\u2018Grand Theft Auto 6\u2019 Trailer: Six Things We Learned.\u201d The game\u2019s trailer premiered a few days prior and broke multiple viewership records.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/span><\/p>\n

Looking at my phone, I am perplexed. Why would a website focused on politics have a video game reporter? Nevertheless, I\u2019m pleasantly surprised with how he landed this gig. Dowd and I hit it off, exchanging our experiences with video games, expectations for the awards show, and our picks for next year\u2019s nominees. Before we part ways, Dowd tells me that I sound a lot like him when he graduated college: passionate about the industry but worried about its future.<\/span><\/p>\n

A few weeks later, my phone rings with a notification from Dowd\u2019s Twitter page; it read, \u201cI\u2019ve been laid off from The Messenger.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/div>\n

Not long after that, I sat down with Dowd again, this time in a New York coffee shop. By this point, The Messenger had <\/span>crashed and burned<\/span><\/a> in spectacular fashion, and the company was facing a <\/span>class-action lawsuit<\/span><\/a> by former employees who were denied severance. It was yet another example of what some believe to be a media apocalypse. Things were not looking good on the video game side either, only a few months into the new year, layoffs were on track to surpass all of last year\u2019s.<\/span><\/p>\n

As one of the few employees laid off before The Messenger\u2019s abrupt shutdown, Dowd expressed some relief: \u201cAt the very least, I have all of my bylines, all of my emails, and as someone who has just started covering games, that means all of my contacts. Without that, I would have no ties to the games industry\u2026 I definitely got a lucky break.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dowd\u2019s story is one shared by many journalists covering video games. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, an inflection point for the future of both industries.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Level 1: A glitch in the newsroom (The 90s\/2000s)<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Much like the business it covers, video game journalism has always taken a back seat to more conventional beats. Rarely have games been featured alongside TV, film, or other entertainment sections. Often, as with The Messenger, video game coverage is relegated to the technology section, a placement that, while appropriate, fails to acknowledge the cultural impact of the medium, framing it as an extension of the tech world. The decision to cover video games alongside other entertainment industries is often a topic for debate. The conversation tends to derail into whether video games could even be considered art (I believe they are). Games as an interactive medium, the main element that sets it apart from more traditional forms of entertainment, opens the door to different stories, experiences, and even endings that players can find in a game. Unfortunately, when video games receive attention in the media, particularly in legacy outlets, readers are left believing it to be a niche hobby with a multibillion-dollar industry behind it.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Dowd developed his passion for games through magazines like Electronic Gaming Monthly (EGM). Other journalists I spoke to got their start on gaming themed internet discussion forums like NeoGaf, GameFAQs, and 1UP. They all appeared to have an affinity for reading, posting, and sticking to their takes, an attitude cultivated by internet forum culture and its tenacity to spark rigorous debate.<\/span><\/p>\n

The video game beat was written off as an afterthought by most mainstream news in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Printed video game magazines like EGM had their share of the pie already, but as the internet became more accessible, dedicated online video game news sites like IGN and GameSpot began cropping up, and eventually, the magazines saw the writing on the wall and made the jump to the web. Those that couldn\u2019t, or failed to adapt to the new medium quickly went out of business.<\/span><\/p>\n

Level 2: The NGJ Approach (2000\u2019s)\u00a0<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Since their inception, video game news outlets have stood by a preview-review format, consisting of articles with exclusive information on a game, a preview piece detailing a writer\u2019s experience with the game, and the review. This approach was, and continues to be, most outlets\u2019 bread and butter. <\/span>B<\/span>y the mid-2000s, video game journalism entered a new phase after writer Kieron Gillen wrote an essay called \u201c<\/span>The New Games Journalism<\/span><\/a>\u201d (NGJ). Gillen suggested that journalists in the beat incorporate their experiences and emotions into their writings about games. His ideal example was a <\/span>viral blog<\/span><\/a> where its writer, username \u201cAlways Black,\u201d recounted an intense duel with a racist opponent in an online Star Wars game. While the writer simultaneously explained the game\u2019s mechanics, he also framed the battle as one between a \u201cgood guy\u201d who plays by the rules, and a \u201cbaddie\u201d with little respect for them. The blog\u2019s first-person narration set it apart from the majority of what could be found in the gaming press at the time. In a medium where almost every game\u2019s playthrough is a unique experience, this personal approach to writing about video games suddenly seemed inevitable. Gillen\u2019s essay signaled a new era of video game writing and commentary.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Depending on whom you ask, NGJ was either the best or worst thing to happen to video game journalism. Its proponents argued that journalism in the beat could finally move on from the robotic, formulaic, status quo<\/i> of publishing previews, reviews, and guides, with little room for commentary or reflection. Meanwhile, its detractors saw it as opening the floodgates for word salad articles and blogs written by pseudointellectuals who thought far too highly of themselves. <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Websites like IGN and GameSpot retained their strongholds as the go-to outlets for previews, reviews, and guides. But newer outlets that were more aligned with the NGJ approach to gaming journalism, like Kotaku and Polygon, began to attract their audiences. In a general media sense, these NGJ sites prioritized commentary and perspectives on games, the developers behind them, and their online fandoms, while still incorporating the traditional preview-review articles. <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The NGJ approach makes game coverage more creative and personal. It defies the beat\u2019s limitations that some saw as dry and repetitive. NGJ instead relies on the reader to open their mind to the perspective of the author\u2019s experience with a game. <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Level 3: Let\u2019s Play (late 2000s\/early 2010s)<\/strong><\/h4>\n

The mid to late aughts ushered in websites like YouTube, where video game content thrived, particularly the \u201cLet\u2019s Play\u201d format where players would record their gameplay with commentary and sometimes webcam footage capturing the gamer\u2019s reactions. Some of YouTube\u2019s biggest stars got their start with the Let\u2019s Play format: PewDiePie, who <\/span>held the top spot<\/span><\/a> as the most subscribed channel on YouTube for years, helped popularize Let\u2019s Plays of horror games like 2010\u2019s <\/span>Amnesia: The Dark Descent<\/span><\/i>, and uploaded montage videos of his exaggerated reactions to the game\u2019s chase sequences.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

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A screencap of a 2012 PewDiePie video of the game Amnesia: The Dark Descent (Source: Youtube, PewDiePie)<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

This era on YouTube also marked the rise in popularity of titles like <\/span>Minecraft<\/span><\/i>, now considered one of the <\/span>best-selling games of all time<\/span><\/a>. <\/span>Minecraft <\/span><\/i>was so popular that it spawned its own genre on the video sharing site, with the game\u2019s infinite number of worlds making it a target rich environment for Let\u2019s Plays. <\/span>Minecraft<\/span><\/i> generated parodies of popular songs and music videos, like \u201c<\/span>Fallen Kingdom<\/span><\/a>\u201d<\/span>\u00a0 by <\/span>YouTuber CaptainSparklez, a parody of Coldplay\u2019s \u201c<\/span>Viva la Vida<\/span><\/a>,\u201d and <\/span>Don\u2019t Mine at Night<\/span><\/a>, by Brad Knauber and based on Katy Perry\u2019s \u201c<\/span>Last Friday Night<\/span><\/a>.\u201d Some of these parodies held view counts which rivaled the source material.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Similar to how the printed magazines needed to adapt to the then novel internet, gaming news sites started their own YouTube channels to keep up and capture new audiences that primarily enjoyed video content. In an interview with Washington Post columnist and author Taylor Lorenz, she described video game content on YouTube as \u201cone of the earliest spaces where personality-driven media started to become a lot of people\u2019s feedback to a media environment.\u201d Because of the highly interactive format, video game content was ideal for YouTubers since \u201ctraditional media was ignoring the gaming world,\u201d according to Lorenz.<\/span><\/p>\n

Unlike the jump from print magazine to online, going online-to-video meant competing for the viewer\u2019s attention with many of those YouTubers. Those looking to consume video game content on platforms like YouTube had a buffet of choices. For instance, the Let\u2019s Play format was heavily influenced by walkthroughs <\/span>\u2014<\/span> guides built to help players navigate a game from beginning to end. Walkthroughs were mostly found on gaming outlets that used screenshots and text to inform and help players. Let\u2019s Plays could accomplish the same but had the added flexibility of entertaining people through the host\u2019s commentary and reactions. Some of my formative years on the internet included watching Let\u2019s Plays and walkthroughs of games like <\/span>Pok\u00e9mon, The Legend of Zelda, <\/span><\/i>and <\/span>Skyrim<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/p>\n

Level 4: Gamergate (2014-2015)<\/strong><\/h4>\n

I<\/span>n 2014, the gaming community, and by extension the journalism that followed it, received mainstream attention for all the wrong reasons. The online gaming community was consumed by what came to be known as \u201cGamergate.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

At its core, Gamergate was a harassment campaign aimed at pushing out minorities and others seen as undesirable from the gaming community. Proponents of Gamergate, dubbed Gamergaters, believed the industry was being infiltrated by these individuals and felt threatened by their prominence. Their targets were initially feminist critics, queer people, and other minorities, before evolving to encompass everything in the industry that could be seen as progressive or remotely liberal. Supporters engaged in systematic online harassment using various social media hashtags and callsigns, hijacking terms like Social Justice Warrior (SJW) as pejorative for those who were against the harassment. SJW quickly evolved to be a descriptor for anyone harboring socially left views on the internet.<\/span><\/p>\n

Much of the abuse originated in chatrooms and forums, before being leveled against targets on platforms like Twitter or via email spamming. Gamergaters also pushed a narrative that much of the gaming media was in cahoots with their targets. When confronted with examples of their harassment, most notably in the form of doxing (the publishing of an individual\u2019s personal information) and threats of rape and death, Gamergaters would try to blame the victim or argue that their cause was actually about \u201cethics in video game journalism.\u201d That claim became both a slogan and source of plausible deniability against charges of harassment. Today, the phrase is used to <\/span>mock<\/span><\/a> Gamergate-style arguments and rhetoric.<\/span><\/p>\n

Many of today\u2019s culture wars and the tactics used can be <\/span>tied back<\/span><\/a> to Gamergate. The campaign was so effective that it <\/span>helped launch<\/span><\/a> rightwing provocateurs into Donald Trump\u2019s inner orbit, including Steve Bannon, who saw the power of angry internet mobs when he ran a <\/span>World of Warcraft<\/span><\/i> gold farming scheme<\/span><\/a> years prior. While Gamergate alone was not the source of online extremism, it became a gateway for radicalization to the far right. Last year, the extremist who attacked Nancy Pelosi\u2019s husband <\/span>attributed<\/span><\/a> his radicalization to Gamergate. Gamergate\u2019s legacy can still be felt today.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not only did mainstream media turn their focus to gaming during one of the medium\u2019s lowest points, but they also fell victim to the framing of the campaign propagated by its supporters. A New York Times <\/span>article<\/span><\/a> published as Gamergate was ongoing, tacitly described its supporters as mere \u201cinstigators\u201d concerned with \u201cethical problems among game journalists and political correctness in their coverage.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Gamergate helped popularize some of the internet\u2019s worst tendencies, like doxing and encouraging violence towards minorities. Its sheer toxicity certainly did not help the public image of the gaming industry. Additionally, many gaming journalists and outlets that pushed back against Gamergate continue to be haunted by it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Level 5: Going International (2017-2019)<\/strong><\/h4>\n

The latter 2010s marked a unique period for the video game industry, especially with the rise in popularity of esports <\/span>\u2014 <\/span>competitive video game tournaments between professional players or teams. While esports had existed for years, mostly as local tournaments with bragging rights and a few hundred dollars awarded to the winner, advancements in online livestreaming helped introduce them to wider audiences. YouTube now faced competition in the form of Twitch.tv. Unlike the former, which prioritized recorded videos, the latter utilized live broadcasts accompanied by a chat room on each channel. Even though YouTube had support for livestreaming, it was often seen as the Pepsi to Twitch\u2019s Coke.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

In the realm of esports, fighting games, first-person shooters, and the multiplayer online battle arena genre were especially popular. <\/span>Dota 2<\/span><\/i>\u2019s The International was one tournament that gained widespread attention, an annual competition akin to the Super Bowl within the game\u2019s pro scene. Valve, the game\u2019s developer, further boosted its reputation by allowing players to contribute to the <\/span>prize pool<\/span><\/a> by purchasing in-game items. In 2013, when Valve first introduced crowdfunding mechanisms, the championship\u2019s prize pool reached <\/span>almost three million dollars<\/span><\/a>,<\/span> then <\/span>$<\/span>10 million<\/span><\/a> the following year, before peaking at <\/span>$<\/span>40 million<\/span><\/a> in 2021. To this day, <\/span>Dota 2<\/span><\/i> comprises <\/span>eight of the top 10<\/span><\/a> largest prize pools in esports history.<\/span><\/p>\n

The sheer scale of each year\u2019s prize pool was enough to grab the attention of mainstream media. ESPN broadcasted<\/a> the 2014 iteration of the competition. Then two years later, the cable company announced<\/a> an esports vertical \u2014 a media term for a separate site or section dedicated to covering a certain topic \u2014 on their website.<\/span><\/p>\n

ESPN\u2019s expansion into the esports scene was followed by other media companies like Yahoo, and popular sports site <\/span>theScore<\/span><\/a>. But many of these ventures were short-lived. Within a year, Yahoo\u2019s esports website <\/span>shut down<\/span><\/a>, a casualty of the company\u2019s merger with AOL. ESPN also struggled with introducing esports coverage to its existing audience. Memorably, its then-president, John Skipper, brushed off esports as <\/span>\u201cnot a sport\u201d<\/span><\/a> a few months after the network\u2019s broadcast of The International 2014, which received mixed reactions on social media from longtime ESPN viewers.<\/span><\/p>\n

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A collage of mixed reactions to The International 2014\u2019s broadcast on ESPN2 (Source: Reddit, r\/Dota2)<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

To this day, TheScore\u2019s esports coverage remains relegated to its <\/span>YouTube channel<\/span><\/a> of over two million subscribers, a total embrace of online video as a platform for esports and by extension, video game content.<\/span><\/p>\n

Game developers and publishers also started to see the value in livestreaming and broadcasting. Before YouTube and Twitch.tv became the standard bearers for sharing video game content through videos and livestreams, many developers and publishers reached out to these outlets as a way of announcing their next big game. It wasn\u2019t the only method, there were also conventions and trade shows like the Electronic Entertainment Expo (E3). But as more people saw the value of uploading and livestreaming video game content online, these companies started cutting out the middle man that was the game media at the time. Nintendo arguably was one of the first to make this shift, announcing in 2013 that it would forego its annual presentation at E3 in favor of broadcasting its \u201cNintendo Direct\u201d video series. Sony followed suit in 2019, skipping E3 entirely after hosting two \u201cState of Play\u201d livestreams for game announcements in March and May. Xbox was the last to convert to this new norm with their \u201cDeveloper Direct\u201d livestreams beginning in 2023.<\/span><\/p>\n

Level 6: The Pandemic Buff & Debuff (2020)<\/strong><\/h4>\n

As with the worldwide economy, the COVID pandemic significantly affected the video game industry. The impact varied across the different sectors of the industry. The lockdown forced billions of people to stay home, and video games provided an avenue to escape the chaos of the outside world. According to a 2022 report from the <\/span>World Economic Forum<\/span><\/a>, the gaming industry\u2019s revenue jumped from around $160 billion in 2019 to an estimated $235 billion in three years, an increase of $75 billion.<\/span><\/p>\n

At the onset of the pandemic, newly released games like Animal Crossing: New Horizons<\/i> exploded in popularity and became central to lockdown culture. The game was referenced<\/a> on late-night talk shows, and Joe Biden\u2019s 2020 presidential campaign capitalized<\/a> on its popularity by allowing players to download their slogans into the game. An entire community-run market<\/a> propped up where some players were willing to spend upwards of $1,000 on eBay for one of the game\u2019s villager characters. The U.K.\u2019s National Video Game Museum<\/a> released a website documenting players\u2019 experiences<\/a> with the game during the pandemic. Previously released titles like Fortnite<\/i><\/a> and Grand Theft Auto Online <\/i>received a surge in players. 2020 also saw the release of both Microsoft and Sony\u2019s \u201cnext generation\u201d consoles, the Xbox Series X\/S and PlayStation 5, which prompted months of coverage detailing the new systems and the challenges<\/a> of acquiring one.<\/span><\/p>\n

Parallel to more people playing video games during the pandemic was a huge boost in viewership on <\/span>streaming sites<\/span><\/a> like Twitch.tv and Facebook Gaming. Streamers and YouTubers single-handedly resurrected games like 2018\u2019s <\/span>Among Us<\/span><\/i><\/a>, which previously maintained a player base of <\/span>less than 100<\/span><\/a> concurrent users, into an online sensation.\u00a0 The chatrooms on streaming sites, along with the social elements in <\/span>Among Us<\/span><\/i>,<\/span> fostered a sense of community in an isolated world. One of the largest livestreams of the game included U.S. Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Ilhan Omar alongside other top streamers, garnering <\/span>over half a million<\/span><\/a> viewers. It was a clear testament to the power of streamers and YouTubers as a force for influence, convincing politicians to sidestep traditional media.<\/span><\/p>\n

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A screenshot of AOC\u2019s October 2020 Among Us livestream (Source: Twitch.tv, AOC)<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

It was a different story for some working in the game industry. Predictably, the pandemic caused many titles to be delayed, and a shift to remote work, which some developers welcomed<\/a> with open arms. Many esports events, including 2020\u2019s iteration of The International, were canceled. And ESPN\u2019s coverage of esports came to an end<\/a>. Conventions such as TwitchCon and Gamescom were either canned, delayed until the following year, or held in an online format.<\/span><\/p>\n

But the greatest loss for the industry, where the pandemic acted as the final nail in the coffin, was E3. The annual show that once brought thousands of attendees and members of the gaming press to downtown L.A. to see what developers big and small were cooking, was already a shell of its former self pre-pandemic. The convention, already evaded by companies pivoting to announcing their games via livestreams, found its existence hard to justify. Attempts to open the expo to the public in the years prior proved futile. After a canceled 2020 convention and a lackluster virtual show in 2021, E3 was declared dead in December 2023. The news came just a few days after I had flown back from The Game Awards. From my hotel room, I could see the Los Angeles Convention Center, the former site for E3. I snapped a picture just before leaving. I had dreamed of attending E3 as a kid, now a thing of the past. But more importantly, its death was a sign of an industry ready to move on and willing to leave behind an integral part of its identity. If E3 was fair game, what of the news that once covered it?<\/span><\/p>\n

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The empty Los Angeles Convention Center (Source: Gabriel Vasconcellos)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The pandemic proved to be a double-edged sword for the gaming industry and the people reporting on it. Esports and in-person events suffered greatly. On the other hand, with game sales surging, titles like <\/span>New Horizons<\/span><\/i> and <\/span>Among Us<\/span><\/i> became cultural phenomenons. The launch of the new consoles also contributed to the market expansion. In contrast to many downsizing industries, video game manufacturers and developers were on a <\/span>hiring<\/span><\/a> spree. A <\/span>report<\/span><\/a> from CNN in June 2020 listed Epic Games (creators of <\/span>Fortnite<\/span><\/i>) and Riot Games (the team behind <\/span>League of Legends<\/span><\/i>) as two developers with more than 100 open positions each. Three years later, Epic would <\/span>lay off<\/span><\/a> about 870 employees. Followed by Riot <\/span>purging<\/span><\/a> 530 employees in January of this year. The COVID era provided journalists with numerous stories to explore and report, as many turned to gaming and online fandoms for a sense of community, those same communities also usually covered by the gaming press. Many in the industry, including the journalists in it, had reason to feel optimistic as the pandemic waned. That optimism was short-lived.<\/span><\/p>\n

Game Over: The Fall of Launcher & the Traffic House of Cards<\/strong><\/h4>\n

In September 2022, Riley MacLeod made a major decision: he moved to Washington D.C. to work at The Washington Post, a dream newsroom for many journalists. He was set to work for Launcher, the Post\u2019s video game vertical. But just a few weeks into the new year, news came that Launcher, only four years old, would close by the end of March.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

MacLeod had previously worked for Kotaku<\/a>, one of the most celebrated and controversial game websites. It was where many of my sources got their start writing about games. The site broke industry-wide stories like exposing the sexist \u201cfrat bro<\/a>\u201d culture at Riot Games and the horrors<\/a> of crunch in game development. At the same time, the site had become a common punching bag among a certain group of gamers. One of my sources even dubbed it \u201cthe TMZ of game journalism.\u201d As it happens, Kotaku was originally a child of Gawker Media, and by extension carried the same type of aggressive journalism that some say doomed<\/a> it\u2019s progenitor. Following the collapse of Gawker, Kotaku\u2019s ownership eventually fell into the hands of a private equity firm, Great Hill Partners, under the G\/O Media subsidiary. MacLeod left Kotaku in 2021, joining many journalists who had become dissatisfied with G\/O Media leadership after the acquisition.<\/span><\/p>\n

MacLeod was keen on bringing hard-hitting stories to the Post. He wanted to challenge people\u2019s perception of video game journalism, which was still the antiquated preview-review model. When news hit of Launcher\u2019s expiration date, Macleod was surprised considering his recent hiring: \u201cIt\u2019s sad because\u2026there had been rumors that they were going to do layoffs, and we\u2019d thought we were safe\u2026 and I thought they wouldn\u2019t have hired me if they were to close it,\u201d MacLeod explained in a Zoom call from his D.C. apartment.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When the layoffs at the Post were announced, MacLeod had woken up early to finish an article, only to notice an email detailing changes to his job. He was moved to the Post\u2019s \u201c<\/span>Next Generation<\/span><\/a>\u201d department, an audience engagement initiative, far from what he had envisioned. It was as if some kind of digital grim reaper was scouring the internet and taking down these publications one by one, and Launcher was its biggest catch.<\/span><\/p>\n

MacLeod recalled the week he had received his job offer at Launcher was the same one when Fanbyte, another video game news site, <\/span>laid off virtually all of its staff<\/span><\/a>. <\/span>Fanbyte now primarily exists as a hub for guides.<\/span> This change in editorial output may explain why the staff was suddenly let go.<\/span><\/p>\n

Earlier this year, G\/O Media demanded Kotaku to pivot towards game guides. Kotaku\u2019s editor-in-chief, Jen Glennon, swiftly resigned in protest. G\/O Media\u2019s higher-ups ordered the site to produce upwards of 50 guides per week, a goal that seemed impossible to reach given Kotaku\u2019s small newsroom. This change would mean a sharp decline in news and other editorial content. G\/O Media had been pushing for more guides on Kotaku to compete with other gaming news sites, aiming to boost traffic and visitors. <\/span><\/p>\n

But relying on traffic and advertising does not necessarily mean more revenue in the long term. As online news finds itself at the mercy of search engines, algorithms, and social media platforms, a simple policy change could leave them in the dark. And outlets that bow to the traffic gods quickly find themselves needing to churn out as many articles in as little time as possible. This sweatshop approach to journalism is what led to the death of The Messenger, where some staff found themselves <\/span>copying<\/span><\/a> other journalists\u2019 work to reach unrealistic traffic quotas.<\/span><\/p>\n

Beyond contributing to a high-pressure work environment, the excessive focus on reaching higher and higher traffic goals fails to consider the long-term relationship between readers and their news outlets. Alternative forms of funding journalism like the so-called \u201cNPR model\u201d exist but rely on the brand holding a strong reputation. People are loyal to a game website or other digital platform mainly due to the journalist\u2019s writing style (<\/span>e.g.<\/span><\/i>, witty, critical, funny, etc.) and video game knowledge. Jay Rosen, an NYU associate professor who often writes about media developments, points to the NPR model where everybody can listen for free, but supporters voluntarily pay twice a year as a precursor to what we see today with YouTubers and streamers. He rightly explains that \u201cpeople pay creators because they want to be patrons\u2026 and have some relationship with the publication.\u201d In the case of YouTubers and streamers, the individual is the publication. This model makes the consumer part of the business and conveys a sense of belonging that some appreciate.<\/span><\/p>\n

Part of the problem of game reporting is that the media owners and journalists who work under them rarely see eye to eye. The c-suite approach is often to mandate mass production of game guides and scoops that allegedly yield more traffic, but at the cost of the site\u2019s soul. The stories of Kotaku and Fanbyte, illustrate this tension well.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mikhail Klimentov, a former editor at Launcher who is now works the Post\u2019s foreign desk, said in an interview that the staff saw the new year with MacLeod joining the team as an opportunity to \u201cre-imagine Launcher, to launch Launcher 2.0.\u201d Klimentov described having conversations with MacLeod about ways to make the website distinct from both the Post and traditional gaming press. He wanted to offer the writers more freedom to pursue their respective interests under the video game media umbrella, like livestream culture on Twitch.tv or reporting on Microsoft\u2019s then ongoing acquisition of Activision Blizzard for an unprecedented $60+ billion.<\/span><\/p>\n

In an ironic twist, the news of Launcher\u2019s end came soon after HBO premiered its television adaptation of the 2013 video game,<\/span> The Last of Us <\/span><\/i>(TLOU). The series would go on to win eight Emmys, a major accomplishment considering the <\/span>infamous track record<\/span><\/a> of video game adaptations in TV and film. Paradoxically, the same staff reporting on the success of HBO\u2019s TLOU knew that their entire section would soon be gone. Gene Park, now the only video game reporter at the Post, was also surprised with Launcher\u2019s demise. \u201cI had no indication that we were in any kind of trouble\u2026 we were hitting goals.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

MacLeod\u2019s predicament was better than those at Fanbyte and countless other smaller-sized video game outlets, where layoffs often came with no warning and no offer of continuing employment. Thanks to the Post\u2019s union, Launcher was still allowed to publish articles until March, giving the staff time to wrap up their final articles before the last piece<\/a> went live. The union <\/a>was vocal in criticizing the layoffs stating, \u201cWe have received no clear explanation for why these layoffs had to happen. As far as we can tell, they are not financially necessary or rooted in any coherent business plan\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

During Launcher\u2019s limbo period, Klimentov described the range of emotions roiling the team: some like MacLeod were depressed, others checked out, and some were rehired for different roles and began adjusting their skillset as quickly as possible. Klimentov also described a strange sense of freedom as the site no longer needed to reach traffic quotas. \u201cIn a way, it was quite a positive work experience in the sense that everyone who was interested got to keep working on their big final project, it was very gratifying for me as an editor because I got to edit a lot of people\u2019s good work.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

For a while, there was a brief sense of freedom, of not being bound by rules from those who had never stepped in a newsroom, or pressured to win the traffic rat race. That added flexibility may have been the spark that created something new from the ashes of Launcher, and many websites like it.<\/span><\/p>\n

New Game+: Remapping the Aftermath<\/strong><\/h4>\n

For years, the media industry has struggled to figure out the most stable business model to pursue as advertising dries up. Amid an ongoing media apocalypse, only recently, a new model has appeared with the potential to break the rules of news monetization: co-operatives. And video game-based co-operatives are now joining the fray.<\/span><\/p>\n

In July 2023, Nathan Grayson, one of MacLeod\u2019s co-workers at Launcher, and Luke Plunkett, a former editor at Kotaku, approached MacLeod with a plan for a new site \u201cAftermath,\u201d<\/a> where they aspired to make the \u201cDefector for games.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Defector<\/a> had been seen as the \u201chip new kid on the block\u201d in the world of online journalism. It started as a website staffed by former sports journalists from Deadspin<\/a>, another Gawker-adjacent news site included in G\/O Media\u2019s buyout of Kotaku. Deadspin\u2019s editorial style mixed mainstream sports with critiques of politicians and celebrities. In October 2019, G\/O Media ordered Deadspin employees to \u201cstick to sports<\/a>\u201d and fired the deputy editor. The staff collectively resigned in a show of solidarity. Defector was created to continue the spirit of Deadspin, with an additional caveat: it would be employee-owned. Ditching the ad-supported model and not giving in to private equity, the site would be funded by subscriptions from readers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve been so lucky that other people paved the way,\u201d MacLeod said about leaving the Post to help build Aftermath. Most of Aftermath\u2019s co-founders had consulted with the staff at Defector and other \u201cDefector-like\u201d websites in devising their business plans.<\/span><\/p>\n

Aftermath went live in November of 2023. Despite what seemed to be a bumpy start to the year, MacLeod voiced optimism that the subscriber-based model of Aftermath would pay off because, as he said, \u201cgaming audiences are used to paying for multiple streamers, outlets, and podcasts.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Aftermath adopts a range of subscriptions ranging from seven dollars to $99 a month. The lowest tier grants unlimited access to their articles, a weekly newsletter, and bonus episodes of their podcast. The highest tier includes one-to-one interactions with a staff writer and quarterly video meetings. Mid-tier subscribers to Aftermath can gain access to the site\u2019s Discord server, allowing readers to discuss with each other and the writers themselves. Just as Youtubers and streamers were able to cultivate loyal communities via subscribers, the people behind Aftermath hope to build their own close-knit spaces online.<\/span><\/p>\n

In an interview, the Post\u2019s Lorenz called herself a big fan of Aftermath and similar outlets, particularly as an alternative to institutional and \u201cbranded\u201d media, like <\/span>IGN<\/span><\/a>. She added that Aftermath\u2019s small group of writers could work to its benefit because they all \u201chave their own followings.\u201d That loyalty to the writers and not the brand gives outlets like Aftermath an edge over traditional media which continues to hinge on brand recognition. Lorenz has <\/span>pushed<\/span><\/a> the idea that personality-driven content creators (<\/span>e.g.,<\/span><\/i> YouTubers, Twitch Streamers, etc.) are what people, especially younger audiences, consume in today\u2019s media environment.<\/span><\/p>\n

One of Aftermath\u2019s contributors is Chris Person, who started on the 1UP.com forum and previously ran the YouTube show, <\/span>Highlight Reel<\/span><\/a>, on Kotaku. He was able <\/span>to keep the show’s name and rights<\/span><\/a> after management fired the video team in 2020. As with Launcher\u2019s two-month limbo, Person maintaining the trademark of his show was a benefit from the union, where he served on the bargaining committee. Person described his experience post-Kotaku, as \u201cawful.\u201d He added, \u201cI had like a million subs [subscribers] on Kotaku, and now I have to work from scratch.\u201d At Aftermath, Person has faith in his co-workers\u2019 endeavors, \u201cI\u2019ve really been shocked at how well things have been going, ultimately, and how natural it feels to work with people you\u2019ve previously organized with.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

But Aftermath is far from the only video game news site embracing the reader-supported, worker-run model. Following in Launcher\u2019s footsteps, Vice Media <\/span>shuttered<\/span><\/a> their own video game vertical, Waypoint, in April of last year, just weeks before the site declared bankruptcy. Speaking to Patrick Klepek, former senior writer at Waypoint and now co-owner of its co-operative successor, Remap Radio, he felt \u201cfortunate to be able to continue paying everybody what they were being paid at Vice, if not more.\u201d He thought losing his job at Vice as \u201cone of the better things to ever happen to me.\u201d Klepek views the support from former Waypoint fans backing Remap as \u201cproof that we were doing something good\u2026 being a sustainable business that allows people to do good work without the feeling that there is an axe right behind them, the only layoff that\u2019s coming is the one that I give to myself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Aftermath, Defector, and the co-operative model provide a glimpse of the future of game journalism. Or this approach may be a Band-Aid on a gaping wound, a temporary solution to a systematic problem of private capital stifling creativity and output. Aftermath\u2019s ambitions may not be the answer for the future of video game journalism, but it is an answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

End Credits: Catch up and Experiment<\/b><\/h4>\n

Legacy media has continued to milk the last remnants of the advertising cash cow that once dominated online journalism in the 2010s. That stubbornness is partially what led to the demise of The Messenger. NYU\u2019s vice provost for AI and technology in education, Clay Shirky, an expert on internet technologies and journalism, reminded me that during its prime, the journalism industry boasted profit margins of 20% to 30%, far from other industries’ levels then and now. Embracing experiential models and adapting to more realistic margins is a better path, rather than big bets that result in massive layoffs.<\/span><\/p>\n

But should we cling to the most pessimistic scenario for the gaming press? Klepek believes in the cyclical nature of the industry <\/span>\u2014<\/span> waves of layoff followed by rehirings but with less energy in each cycle. Speaking bluntly, he said \u201cif you can hire a Taylor Swift reporter, I think you should hire a video game reporter that has the expertise to speak to it.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The traditional advertisement model, which closely links ads to content is becoming obsolete (e.g.<\/i>, a televised soccer match with commercials for sports merchandise). The internet opened the door to a vast supply of advertisements, across various digital platforms, including social media, websites, search engines, and more recently short-form video (e.g.<\/i>, TikTok, Instagram Reels). As Shirky pointed out, \u201cthe supply of advertisement grew more enormously than the margins.\u201d And what is worrisome is that many of these content creators report without ethical principles or fact-checking requirements. In some cases, they are advertising without full disclosure to the viewers.<\/span><\/p>\n

Providing insights to salespeople on age demographics of video game players in the United States could enhance their engagement strategies. A 2022 <\/span>survey <\/span><\/a>from the Entertainment Software Association found that 36% of video game consumers are 18 to 34 years old. The same survey reported that the average video game player is 33 years old. Gamers are passionate about video games and are willing to sink lots of money and time on them. However, younger gamers are overwhelmingly preferring YouTubers and streamers over news outlets for information on games.<\/span><\/p>\n

There is consensus on one important point related to the audiences\u2019 age and engagement with the video game press. Greg Miller, a former editor at IGN and co-founder of the media company Kinda Funny, Rosen, and Klepek all agree that legacy media should continue investing in the video game beat to court new and younger readers. As Miller explains: \u201cWe should bring on a team\u2026 do this kind of reporting, and we’ll be able to not only serve the existing audience but bring in a new audience\u2026 We should cater to younger audiences to make them readers of video games and much more.\u201d He explained that mainstream media still has an older reader base that is foreign to video games. They fit the mold of someone who only experienced gaming through \u201ctheir kids [sitting] criss-cross applesauce in front of the TV playing the NES [Nintendo Entertainment System]\u2026So adults’ understanding of video games ended there.\u201d Rosen thinks along the same lines as Miller, he admits that legacy media \u201cdon\u2019t think younger people will follow them.\u201d He also warns of a possible slipup: \u201cBy not covering games, as legacy media, we could make a mistake\u2026and give up the audience’s attention.\u201d Klepek agrees that the lack of interest in the video game beat is due to misguided media leadership decisions and, as he points out, \u201ca reflection of age and demographic management, where video games are not critical to their media diet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Experimental models, like co-operatives, are a valid alternative to the oversaturated ad space with scarce revenue. As Shirky pointed out, \u201cwe’re going to have a period of very hectic experimentation in business income, business models\u2026 we’ll see variants, as opposed to everybody playing [in] the desert the same way.\u201d Yet the risks these models pose are unknown. And the mainstream media is not willing to take them. Klepek believes there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and reasons that \u201cthe audience [of experimental models] is much stickier and more reliable than, you know, some faceless executive that comes in with a different way of running a company.\u201d Indeed, audiences paying to watch content from someone they trust are more loyal and engaged. <\/span>Game reporting is not short of challenges and pitfalls. In this uncertain landscape, the co-operative model is an innovative, albeit daring option that merits exploration by well-known journalists in<\/span> the games beat. There is still a place for gaming in traditional media, but they should approach it as a long-term commitment, and invest in it to cultivate a new audience of young readers who may develop brand loyalty.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/div>\n

As I began wrapping up my reporting, I heard from Trone, whom I had met at the Game Awards in Los Angeles four months earlier. He is now a writer at <\/span>Inverse<\/span><\/a>, a tech website with a focus on games. He seems content but cautious. For now, he has found a place where \u201cthere\u2019s no chasing trends like we did at Vice. No trying to figure out what we are exactly like at The Messenger. No constant news about the dire straits of the company.\u201d He is aware that things may change at any time, but in today\u2019s media climate, his gig at Inverse counts as a happy ending.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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