Onwards rolls the parchment of history, inscribed by the invisible hand of protruding fate and circumstance toward a design unfit for the consumption of a mortal mind. Try as you might to fathom the ravages and extent of time, it's start or it's end, and further will you sink into that blackened abyss of unquantifiable excess- stuffed with empty truths and vacuous realities too fast or abstract to fit into the world we see. Although there are said to be some truths, universal in their supposed appeal, when it comes to the manner in which the mortal mind comes to perceive their individual tiny wisp off Klotho's winding loom. Which is to say: the older we get, the quicker the passage of time is supposed to feel to us. As responsibility piles and autonomy shrinks and life becomes increasingly defined by it's little havens of abnormality admits a sea of sameness- but take a look at the slate of video game releases and that certainly does not seem to be the case.
Predictions, and to be clear and honest these are entirely unconfirmed from any sort of official source, have the next Bethesda Softworks game after next week's Starfield lined up as a 2028 release! The Elder Scrolls VI is set to debut 17 years after the release of Skyrim- which is such a horrific thought to have it scars me to contemplate. Has it been more than 10 years since Skyrim already? I remember that day so clearly! Heck, I remember that year. The anticipation, the imagination, trying to conceive of the bounds of fantasy, a genre I had long since discarded, in hopes this curious sounding game could meet lofty expectations. Lucky for my little child brain, I apparently wasn't all that creative because Skyrim would end up exceeding such beliefs. Still though... 17 years until the next. It doesn't seem fair.
I'm not to the point of posturing on my mortality, indeed I'm somewhat blessed in that I found comfort in such a prospect, but when you're seeing a game series that waits nearly two decades between each entry that has to be something of a cold shower to acknowledge. Twenty years per entry? Is this how long development periods have become in the game's industry? I play at factiousness, of course- the truth is that Bethesda are a large, but extremely centralised, development studio that manage their small cadre of franchises one game at a time. I can only imagine how long people will have to wait for Starfield 2 if this first one pops off as much as they hope it will. (And I imagine I probably won't be alive for Elder Scrolls VII. What a bizarre thought!)
But as a thought experiment posing such a question does go to reflect the way in which we confront 'the stretches of time'. Every work of a game is such a gigantic undertaking of various artists of all different fields dedicating now several years of their life towards one piece of art, how utterly horrific it must be when it all doesn't work out and you put out a Gollum! And what strange relief it is when six hectic years go to patching together the widely lauded Baldur's Gate 3, only for fans to turn around within a couple of weeks expectant for the next batch of content. It just rings in a kind of- No, give us a least a month to relax first- kind of bittersweet aftertaste. It really is a thankless job being an artist, particular in this, uniquely narcissistic, of mediums.
Standards have piled atop of standards when it comes to the quality of games that we consider 'AAA' at the pinnacle of our industry- constantly it is being said we've reached critical mass and the point to which we can't be pushed any further- and then a new way of doing things, a new software or hardware benchmark, and efforts are pushed ever more voraciously and forcefully forward. Suddenly a typical game costs 4 years of work, wages and technological pushing to come into fruition. Suddenly pushing a game means predicting the state of the industry in five years time and figuring if this genre is going to be a wasteland by release. Suddenly God of War is going to be a two entry franchise rather than a trilogy as most forms of media would demand.
The other day one of the most prolific and well known video game developers of all time, Hideo Kojima, celebrated his 60th Birthday. Now whilst the man did go out of his way to reaffirm how he's not looking to retire anytime soon and how he's looking to keep making games until he's literally dead- in confidence the developer is a lot more grounded about his view on life. Kojima has mentioned on Brain Structure how he doesn't rightly know how many games he can possible fit into the reminder of his years, and how strange it is to think about that time ahead of him as a limited quantity. Here he is, still learning and evolving and wanting to change the world, and there that world is tapping it's watch as more time slips away. You'd like to think you have unlimited chances, but that's just not the way that the world works.
Perhaps that might be a reason why you'll see so many of these leading development company alumni drop out of their positions and pick up jobs with smaller teams working on smaller products. On one hand you have the more tangible and quantifiable effect that a single person has on the finished product, and on the otherhand you can see the fruits of your labour feasibly before the next giant life event that totally changes who you are as a person and thus recontextualises your relationship with all that work you once did. But even talking about this is enough to clasp the ol' existential dread around the lot of us, isn't it? That creeping and stalking sensation that everything is running out and you're in the middle of the chaos doing nothing about it as the world rises and builds and breaks and crumbles before your powerless hands.
Want a secret? Worrying about it isn't the point. Time is best enjoyed as a passive observer, living as you will, learning as you will- coming to appreciate those moments that are yours, even by not thinking about them as moments whatsoever or by not even thinking at all. The games industry is much the same, as soon we're going to be reaching the point where it's no longer really practical to have a 'favourite developer', as you'll only ever seen the fruits of their labour 4 or 5 times across your entire lifespan. And what is the take away from all of this? I don't know. I can't say. Perhaps just to appreciate what you have because you can't always wait around and hope what comes next time makes up for yesterday's blunder. Or don't, and hold everyone to the strictest standard.
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