DO WHAT YOU LOVE, KID! — CORPORATE WILL FUCKING FIX THAT.
By Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Ah, video games.
Beautiful, wonderful, magical fucking video games.
The medium that gave us Final Fantasy, Chrono Trigger, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Street Fighter, and countless other reasons to sit in front of a television until three in the morning wondering where the hell our lives went.
I love video games.
You love video games.
Millions of people love video games.
And apparently, somewhere in a corporate boardroom, a collection of expensive suits has decided that the best way to celebrate this magnificent industry is to FIRE THE PEOPLE WHO FUCKING MAKE THEM.
Welcome to modern gaming!
Please enjoy your stay.
Your favorite developer has been laid off.
Your favorite franchise has been shelved.
Your favorite studio has been gutted.
But don't worry!
THE SHAREHOLDERS ARE DOING JUST FUCKING FINE!
Or at least that's what the executives hope.
THE DREAM JOB THAT EATS ITS OWN CHILDREN
I was browsing Reddit when I came across a discussion about Electronic Arts, BioWare, and hundreds of jobs disappearing.
Four hundred people.
Four hundred human beings with bills, families, responsibilities, and presumably the unreasonable desire to continue eating food.
And somebody commented that being a game developer must be a brutal career.
Another person agreed.
They once dreamed of working in games, too.
Then they learned about crunch, unstable employment, and the possibility of making better money doing similar work somewhere else.
And then came the most beautifully depressing exchange imaginable.
"Do what you love, kid!"
"Umm, I like games..."
OH, YOU POOR, INNOCENT LITTLE BASTARD.
You like games?
Fantastic!
Welcome to an industry where your childhood dream can become a twelve-hour workday, your creative ambitions can become quarterly revenue targets, and your reward for shipping a successful product might be a cardboard box containing your desk belongings.
But remember!
We're a family!
A passionate family!
A collaborative family!
A family that apparently has to terminate half its relatives whenever somebody in accounting discovers a fucking spreadsheet.
ELECTRONIC ARTS: IT'S IN THE GAME. YOUR JOB ISN'T.
Ah, Electronic Arts.
EA.
A company whose name once sounded like a celebration of the people who actually created electronic entertainment.
Electronic.
Arts.
ARTS!
Remember art?
That thing people make because they have imagination, passion, curiosity, and a desire to create something meaningful?
Apparently somebody forgot to explain that to the corporate department responsible for turning everything into a monetization strategy.
Because modern corporate gaming sometimes feels less like an artistic industry and more like a casino that occasionally remembers to include a video game.
Preorder bonuses!
Deluxe editions!
Premium currencies!
Battle passes!
Seasonal content!
Exclusive cosmetics!
And enough digital storefronts to make a fucking shopping mall jealous.
Meanwhile, the people actually programming, writing, animating, testing, composing, and designing these experiences are expected to demonstrate unwavering loyalty to a company that might demonstrate absolutely none in return.
"Thank you for your passion!"
"Thank you for your dedication!"
"Thank you for your countless hours!"
"Unfortunately, we're restructuring."
RESTRUCTURE DEEZ NUTS, YOU CORPORATE FUCKING VULTURES.
BIOWARE, YOU BEAUTIFUL, BATTERED BASTARD
And then there's BioWare.
Jesus Christ.
BioWare helped create entire universes people still care about.
Mass Effect.
Dragon Age.
Knights of the Old Republic.
Baldur's Gate.
Characters people loved.
Stories people remembered.
Choices people argued about years after finishing the games.
These weren't just products to a lot of us.
They were experiences.
We remember the companions.
The music.
The dialogue.
The decisions.
The moments that made us laugh, cry, or stare at the screen wondering whether we'd just made the worst fucking decision imaginable.
And what happens when a beloved studio struggles?
Does corporate leadership ask whether its strategies contributed to the problem?
Does it examine unrealistic expectations?
Does it consider whether chasing trends instead of cultivating strengths might have consequences?
Sometimes, perhaps.
But from the outside, the recurring spectacle looks suspiciously familiar.
Acquire talent.
Exploit reputation.
Demand growth.
Chase trends.
Miss expectations.
Cut staff.
Repeat.
And somewhere in the distance, another beloved franchise sits gathering dust while an executive prepares a presentation about strategic realignment.
I swear to God, if I hear that phrase one more time, I'm going to strategically realign my fucking foot with somebody's office furniture.
THE PASSION TAX
Here's the part that really pisses me off.
Game developers often enter the industry because they genuinely love games.
That's beautiful.
That's admirable.
And it's also something employers can exploit.
Because when you love what you do, it's easier for someone to convince you that suffering is part of the privilege.
Work late!
It's your passion!
Come in Saturday!
The fans are counting on you!
Sacrifice your personal life!
We're making something special!
And when the project finally ships?
Maybe it succeeds.
Maybe it fails.
Maybe the executives congratulate everybody.
Maybe the executives fire everybody.
But here's the thing.
PASSION DOESN'T PAY RENT.
You cannot walk into Walmart, place a week's groceries on the counter, and tell the cashier:
"Don't worry, ma'am. I'm extremely passionate about environmental storytelling."
You cannot call your landlord and explain:
"Unfortunately, I don't have the rent, but I helped implement realistic horse testicles in our latest open-world adventure."
You cannot pay your electricity bill with artistic integrity.
And you certainly cannot feed your family with a corporate email thanking you for your invaluable contributions shortly before disabling your fucking employee credentials.
A dream job is still a job.
And a job that consumes your health, security, and personal life can become a nightmare regardless of how much you love the work.
AND WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE CUSTOMERS IN ALL THIS?
Oh, we're here.
We're watching.
We're playing.
We're buying.
We're arguing about whether the original was better than the remake.
We're modding games that corporations abandoned fifteen years ago.
We're preserving old ROMs.
We're translating forgotten Japanese games because apparently fans with spare time and stubbornness can sometimes accomplish things that billion-dollar businesses can't be bothered to pursue.
And we're watching talented developers get tossed aside while companies insist that everything is going according to plan.
Meanwhile, gamers are expected to remain eternally grateful.
Don't criticize the publisher!
Don't complain about the monetization!
Don't question the layoffs!
Don't ask why your favorite series has been missing for twenty years!
Just consume the next product!
And then get excited for the next product!
NO, FUCK YOU.
I can love video games without worshipping the companies that sell them.
I can appreciate developers without pretending every game they produce is a masterpiece.
I can criticize a bad release without celebrating the people who worked on it losing their livelihoods.
And I can enjoy a ridiculous, trashy, broken, stupid game without pretending it deserves a fucking Nobel Prize.
Because here's a revolutionary concept:
I LOVE GAMES. I DON'T OWE CORPORATIONS MY LOYALTY.
THE FUNNIEST PART? I UNDERSTAND THE WORKERS.
And this is where the joke stops being quite so funny.
I recently lost my own job.
Not in gaming.
Not at some prestigious development studio.
Just an ordinary job with ordinary responsibilities, ordinary bullshit, and an ordinary paycheck.
And you know what I miss?
The paycheck.
The routine.
Knowing where I was supposed to be.
Knowing what I was supposed to do.
Knowing I could go home afterward and enjoy my fucking video games.
I didn't need to be passionate about my employer.
I didn't need to wear company merchandise to bed.
I didn't need to pretend the building was my second home.
I needed to work.
Get paid.
Go home.
And enjoy the life I was working to support.
So when I read about hundreds of people losing their jobs at a gaming company, I don't just see another depressing headline.
I see hundreds of people potentially facing the same questions.
How do I pay my bills?
How long will my savings last?
Who is hiring?
What the hell do I do now?
And perhaps the cruelest irony of all?
Some of those developers might have gone into gaming because they wanted to make people happy.
Now they're the ones who could use a little happiness themselves.
DEAR CORPORATE GAMING: YOU ARE NOT THE HERO OF THIS STORY.
You're not Sephiroth.
You're not Kefka.
You're not Dimentio.
Hell, you're not even Bowser.
At least Bowser has the decency to announce that he's kidnapping the princess before somebody has to deal with his bullshit.
You?
You announce a restructuring initiative.
You release a carefully polished statement.
You thank everyone for their service.
Then you hope the next financial report makes the whole thing look like a brilliant fucking idea.
And perhaps that's the most insulting part.
The language.
Nobody gets fired anymore.
They're impacted.
Nobody loses their livelihood.
Their position is eliminated.
Nobody gets tossed aside.
The company is optimizing its operational structure.
STOP HIDING HUMAN SUFFERING BEHIND CORPORATE FUCKING MAD LIBS.
Call it what it is.
People lost their jobs.
Their futures became uncertain.
Their plans were interrupted.
Their lives changed.
And if the company genuinely had no better option, then have the decency to acknowledge the human cost without burying it beneath a mountain of consultant-approved bullshit.
THE RACCOON'S FINAL VERDICT
I still love video games.
I always will.
I'll play the masterpieces.
I'll play the garbage.
I'll play the obscure Japanese RPG that nobody translated for twenty years.
I'll play the arcade game that kicks my ass seventeen times before I finally figure out how to beat the boss.
I'll play something so fucking stupid that I laugh harder at its failures than I would at an actual comedy.
Because games are wonderful.
Games are art.
Games are entertainment.
Games are memories.
Games are an escape when the real world has decided to repeatedly kick you in the financial testicles.
And the people who make them deserve better than being treated like disposable printer cartridges.
So to the developers who lost their jobs:
I hope you land somewhere better.
I hope you get paid what you're worth.
I hope you find employers who respect your time.
And I hope you never lose the creative spark that made you want to build these wonderful, ridiculous digital worlds in the first place.
To the executives who genuinely care about their employees:
Prove it.
And to the ones who see human beings as nothing more than numbers on a spreadsheet?
Jerry the Raccoon would like a word.
Preferably somewhere without security cameras.
Not because he's going to hurt anybody.
No.
He's just going to sneak into the boardroom and replace every PowerPoint presentation with a single slide reading:
FUCK YOUR QUARTERLY SYNERGY. PAY YOUR FUCKING PEOPLE.
And then he's going to steal the complimentary snacks.
Because unlike some corporate executives, the raccoon understands the value of honest work.
Even if that work consists entirely of biting ankles.
Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Jerry's Marginalia — Unsolicited Advice from a Raccoon Who Still Believes Games Should Be Fun
LOVE THE GAME. RESPECT THE DEVELOPER. QUESTION THE PUBLISHER.
And remember, kids: if somebody tells you to do what you love, make damn sure they're planning to pay you for it.