Do we have too many series?

 Or too little originals?

This is a blog about video games. Ostensibly. That basic defining attribute seems to wane and flutter with the consistency of the sea's waves in the Bermuda triangle, which is to say I pretty much default to putting whatever I want on here, when I want. However, this topic in particular does actually spread a little further and touch on general themes of pop culture and entertainment in general; however to keep this from becoming one of those ungainly 100 paragraph blogs that I've done once or twice in the past, I'm limiting scope to gaming. I acknowledge the larger reach of this issue, I know that it's there, and I'm not being ignorant of it's existent, I'm being strategic. You got that disclaimer down? Good. 'Cause now I want to ask if we have too many series', franchises and, basically, sequels in the gaming world. Let me begin the self debating.

There is something undeniably appealing about the prospect of a sequel to a game series that we love, and I think a large part of that comes from the comfort of knowing roughly what to expect and using that as a dowsing rod to find quality. And that is an important boon for the discerning consumer. Gaming is not a cheap or under-priced hobby, no matter what those ghouls over at Square Enix and Sony try to insinuate, and oftentimes questions of 'is this going to be worth my money' and just-as-importantly 'is this going to be worth my time', trumps the desire for creative explorations and taking a chance. Having a solid developer working with a solid producer to make a game is already worth some motes of confidence, but how many times have we seen a great developer who makes great games stumble when trying something out of their comfort zone. (Or heck, even something different within that comfort zone?) Try the 'Avatar: The last Airbender' and 'Legend of Korra' games from Platinum Games, 'Anthem' from Bioware or the budding failure of New Worlds from Amazon Game Studios. (Although that last one is the product a variety of problems built on top of- 'inexperienced at this sort of game'.) It's no guarantee of success to make sequels until the day you die, just look at 'Battlefield 2043' (7/10 from IGN? No wonder people think of that site as a joke.) but it's a damn sight more reliable than rolling the proverbial die and seeing a developer shoot for the stars.

Although, there is a definite impact that this sequel mania, and the resulting gaming community-psyche it propagates, on the indie scene. You've already got a lot to overcome as an indie developer, working in an overcrowded field with lacking resources and trying to stand out, but throw out there an industry-nursed general reticence to try something new and it can feel impossible to break into the mainstream. (and it mostly is.) Indie devs have to rely on out-of-the-box ideas and creative new titles, but when faced with a consumer base drunk on safe, endlessly franchised, games, why would the masses ever even bother to try something new? 'The most profitable entertainment medium in the world' can feel like a somewhat deceptive accolade when the vast majority of that profit is funnelled towards the established sequel-pumping machines who 'lead the industry', whatever concepts like 'leadership' even means in the current state of the market. 

Additionally, when we think of all that money which does get funnelled into big companies, to then be recycled back into the development process, it is startling how often those astronomical profit margins go into feeding the status-quo loop of constant series perpetuation instead of, oh I don't know, actually pursuing genuine meaningful innovation! You'd have thought that now we've entered the period of standardised game design principles, we'd have the perfect baseline from which to start breaking convention and rewriting the norm, but all too often it's just not seen as worth the risk. (Yep, we looped back around there but from the other side.) Working on actualising new presentations, new art styles, new software capabilities, all of that feels almost stunted by the excuse of 'Oh, well since we're making a sequel we need to ensure this game is largely recognisable to the existing player base.' Now innovation comes slow and plodding, and when it does arrive, it's mostly to use new techniques to make the game look better, rather than play better, so that it at least visually eclipses the last game in the series.

Of course, on the flipside the very reason we have these series to begin with is because there are some stories, characters and worlds that we want to see grow and expand in ways that only be achieved through sequels and series. Hitman, Splinter Cell and Resident Evil all didn't really hit their world changing stride until a few iterations down the line, and that was borne from developers having to reinvent the wheel everytime they came back to their properties. Sure, there are some studios who phone things in (Ubisoft) but just as many truly hold-off until they can make something incredible before putting their all-precious properties' integrity on the line with a sequel, like Rockstar do. Additionally, series' can perpetuate whole genres by themselves and turn them into culture landmarks, just look at Castlevania and Metroid, or Demon Souls and Dark Souls. The familiarity of working in a series, with settings, frameworks and conventions you already know, makes for a sturdy springboard to bigger and better summits.

Then there is the practical side of working with sequels from the corporate side of the market; it makes for easier sales pitches. Having to find a unique selling point for every new game is incredibly taxing from a marketing stand point as not every idea sings it's own praises in the same way. If all trailers and previews were created equally, marketing metas would shift to mass homogenisation just to try and keep competitive with everyone else. Reliable series games that audiences trust and come back to lessens the burden, both on marketing and risk, because you don't have to struggle to compete with for eyes with every new project. Plus, working with what you know is inherently going to be cheaper because people know what they're doing and can coordinate with experience. Assets can be reused, systems recycled, wasted time reduced; it's already a more sure-fire strategy. (And then Battlefield 2043 happens and you start to question all basic understanding of familiarity that you thought you knew. The scoreboard still isn't out?)

Now I've purposefully shot at both extremes in this blog, but the place I want to rest in is on the question: where is that ideal middle ground? Because I don't want a world where all the creativity of the market is sucked dry and everyone suckles off the teat of 5-10 core gaming franchises, but I don't want one where every game is a one-and-done with every new release being another waystation in a wild west of a market. Luckily we live in neither world, and yet the perception of the dominance of franchise-games is perpetrated by the sheer omnipotence those games hold over the zeitgeist of the gaming community. I think that our gaming trade shows, largely informed by legacy marketing norms, holds a chunk of the blame here. Every reveal event is ruled by the franchises that are going to immediately arrest attention rather than giving it to the new games that might snatch up a more niche sector of the audience. Efforts are made, by the more conscientious show runners, to balance the slate, but you just have to look at events like The Game Awards to know that the scale between 'brand new' and 'old rehashed' is still heavily tilted.

So I think we need better to be done from our industry events, because at it's heart the morphing of public perception is very much the sole purview of marketing agencies the world over. I'll admit that I become less interested in seeing a new game if it isn't part of an established franchise, and that's an ingrained reaction in mine and other's heads which I know could be unprogrammed with the right efforts. Think of how much more opportunity there will be in the gaming landscape, a medium perfect for establishing niches, were the new is perceived as equal to the old- it would be a renaissance period for indie visibility. To answer my own question, although it may sometimes feel like it, we don't have too many series' kicking around our gaming industry, we have too little attention for the world around them. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.