According to a recent Gartner report, the video game industry generated approximately $93 billion worldwide in 2013 and is expected to top $111 billion by 2015. Obviously, gaming has become big business, but is financial profit the only measure of success? In 40 short years, the games industry has gone from garage developers swapping personally made game disks, to hundred-person development teams and multimillion-dollar budgets, but was something lost in this hurried transition?
“Business and art almost always have a rocky marriage.” – B. Watterson.
As the industry grew, developers crafted bigger, more ambitious games which, in turn, required more resources and more money for development. Today, most developers who have a realistic shot at earning a living must connect with a publisher to fund and eventually distribute their projects. For publishers, funding a game is an investment, and with investment comes risk. The bigger the budget, of course, the bigger the risk. To limit the potential risk, publishers sign contracts with developers stipulating things such as budget limits, target dates for development milestones, and the power to approve certain game content. Sadly, all too often this influence extends beyond that of content approval to full-fledged creative control, especially in situations between fledgling development studios and well-established publishers.
By design, publishers are profit-driven. Therefore, as their interest is strictly financially motivated, any input they have on the creative process is only intended to expand profit margins. Unfortunately, this short-sighted attitude has become the industry norm. CEO Bobby Kotick unabashedly made this clear with his now-infamous comments during a 2008 earnings call, describing Activision Blizzard‘s publishing philosophy as pursuing development only on games that “have the potential to be exploited every year on every platform with clear sequel potential and have the potential to become $100 million franchises”. Not to be outdone, Tony Key, Ubisoft Vice President of Sales and Marketing openly declared in a 2013 interview with The [a]list Daily that “We won’t even start if we don’t think we can build a franchise out of it.” These strategies may make investors feel safe, but what about their long-term effects on the industry?
Conservative choices make conservative games and conservative games do not push boundaries. With all this money on the line, publishers regularly pressure developers to continually rehash the same tired game ideas simply because out of touch marketing analysts believe these ideas are what the consumer wants. One of the most obvious examples would be when publishers “greatly encourage” developers to crowbar ill-suited multiplayer modes into campaign focused games as a woefully misguided attempt to avoid the bargain bin, such as with Spec Ops: The Line.
On the surface, this third-person, modern war shooter appeared to be perfect for competitive multiplayer. However, unlike most military shooters, Spec Ops: The Line’s campaign has a deeply emotional narrative, showing the raw, unglamorous reality of war and confronting players with themes of moral ambiguity and ethics. Therefore, the multiplayer itself, which is a mostly-broken afterthought anyway, completely undermines the entire tone of the game. Although players can obviously ignore tacked-on multiplayer modes, their creation still takes time, money, and valuable resources that could have been used elsewhere in development. Needless multiplayer is just one of the many problems that occur when creative control is taken from the creators and splintered between multiple, incongruently motivated individuals. It’s a gross misappropriation of creative control, turning anything with an once of artistic expression into nothing more than a product to be exploited.
“Having so many cooks in the kitchen usually encourages a blandness to suit all tastes.” – B. Watterson
While the butting of heads between business and art will likely never go away, there is light on the horizon. In recent years, the Indie games sector has produced amazingly unique titles such as Gone Home, Papers, Please, and The Stanley Parable, all of which not only pushed the boundaries of the medium, but were very well received, proving that there is a growing audience of gamers interested in exploring new ideas. The Indie market’s increasing trend of self-publication has also shown that many developers are choosing to completely forgo the publisher relationship, opting to take on publishing responsibilities themselves. However, as this is not always a feasible option for every development studio, publishers will continue to play a vital role in the industry. And, as investors with millions of dollars and thousands of jobs on the line, publishers logically have every right to continue overseeing the games in which they’ve invested.
Gaming is equal parts business and art, with each side dependent on the other to work smoothly. When one interferes with the other, the whole cannot function. Dismissing sound marketing strategy for the sake of art leads down a road to bankruptcy. Dismissing innovation for the sake of profit leads down a road fraught with “pay-to-win” microtransactions and psychologists replacing developers to formulate addiction instead of fun gameplay. Mediums are moved forward by those who push boundaries and innovate. If the medium doesn’t mature, the market will inevitably become stale, which isn’t exactly good for business. The medium of gaming is capable of great things, but in order to see what it can accomplish, a level of trust between business and art needs to be obtained.
The above citations are from “The Cheapening of Comics”, a speech delivered by Bill Watterson at the Festival of Cartoon Art, in 1989. Although specifically concerning the uneasy and relationship between comic artists and publication syndicates, the speech summarizes the creator/distributor struggle found in any monetized creative medium.
