Video game companies have more to worry about than simply making great games: They have
reputations to protect.
They have annual budgets to meet and shareholders and executives to please.
They have legions of die-hard fans, many of whom have high expectations and unrealistic
demands.
It's a lot to manage.
So, sometimes, with all that pressure on their shoulders, the brains behind your favorite
games do things that are pretty shady.
From scummy treatment of employees that borders on abuse to the painful truth behind chronic
pre-ordering, these are some of the darkest secrets the video game industry has tried
to hide.
Red Dead Ring-demption
What happens when you design the interior of a console around its exterior, instead
of the other way around?
Well, for one thing, it just doesn't work.
Microsoft learned this the hard way.
The issue became known as the Red Ring of Death in honor of the three red lights that'd
appear around your console's power button before it just… stopped working.
Third-party estimates say that the Red Ring of Death hit 54.2% of all Xbox 360 owners,
which was apparently caused by overheating brought on by the Xbox 360's stylish but ultimately
ill-advised design.
Here's the thing, though: as reports of dying consoles began to flood the internet, Microsoft
denied that anything was wrong.
A year and a half later, the company still refused to comment on the issue.
Microsoft eventually changed its tune and instituted a warranty-extension that cost
a staggering one billion dollars, while 2010's Xbox 360 Slim put the Red Ring of Death to
bed permanently.
But the company still hasn't released official statistics on how many Xbox 360s failed.
Say it ain't so, Mario!
Ah, good old Nintendo, home to video gaming's most iconic characters, the source of so many
happy childhood memories, and chronic price-fixer.
Wait, what?
Oh, that's right: underneath Nintendo's bubbly, family-friendly public image lurks a company
that'll do anything to stifle the competition, even if it means violating antitrust laws
in the process.
In a price-fixing scheme, companies that'd normally compete with one another team up
to keep product prices artificially high, reeling in a little bit more money for everyone.
In 1991, the Federal Trade Commission said that Nintendo was breaking the law by making
retailers sell the original Nintendo Entertainment System for $99.95 for a fixed 19-month period.
Nintendo decided to settle rather than fight the charges, and agreed to pay $25 million
in rebates to affected customers as well as another $4.75 million in additional costs.
Sadly, Nintendo didn't learn its lesson, and the company was hit with price-fixing charges
again in 2002.
This time, authorities accused Nintendo of keeping its products, including the Nintendo
64 and the Game Boy Pocket, from crossing national borders, which prevented customers
in certain EU countries from getting the best possible prices.
A roughly $141 million fine followed, although not before Nintendo's European distribution
partner tried to downplay the severity of the crime while working with EU authorities.
The fine was later reduced, thanks to Nintendo's belated cooperation.
Killer crunch
Despite what you might've heard, making video games isn't a glamorous job.
Game developers work hard to deliver functional, fun games by strict deadlines.
That's not easy, and it's no wonder that talented people are leaving the industry in droves.
And yet, even in an industry as taxing as gaming, "crunch" is a special kind of hell.
As games near their release dates, it's standard practice for studios to go into overdrive,
forcing employees to work inordinately long hours in order to see their titles reach completion.
We're talking up to 80-hour work weeks.
Typically, developers aren't paid overtime for the extra work.
Crunch can ruin people's health and decimate their personal relationships.
It sucks, it drives good people away, and it may not even help the games all that much.
After all, when you're that tired, you tend to make lots of mistakes.
All that, and we probably wouldn't even know just how bad it'd be if one developer's pissed-off
wife hadn't come forward.
In 2004, a LiveJournal post by "ea_spouse" shed new light on the video game industry's
abusive tendencies and brought the rigors of crunch into the open.
A decade and a half later, things are still getting better, but there's still a long,
long way to go.
"If you can't get the work done, then the past two years are basically worth nothing.
No pressure."
Stick to the script
Every year, the Electronic Entertainment Expo, or, E3, hits the Los Angeles Convention Center
and gets fans' hearts all a-flutter by showing off the latest, greatest video game trailers,
with a few live demos thrown in for good measure.
That's the idea, anyway.
It turns out that, in reality, a lot of those glossy, hands-on demos that you see during
E3's big press events are totally scripted.
As Kotaku reports, game publishers often put together special E3-exclusive demos that show
what the game should look like, not what it actually does look like.
In extreme cases, "live" demos aren't live at all.
In some cases, people on stage simply hold controllers and pretend to play while pre-recorded
video unfurls on the screen behind them.
That leads to demos that don't always reflect the finished game.
BioShock: Infinite's E3 demo promised a game that's much more open-ended than the final
product, and the less said about Aliens: Colonial Marines, the better.
It's easy to understand why companies do this, of course.
E3 is first and foremost a marketing event, and it's embarrassing when things go wrong.
Still, the practice is misleading… at best.
The best reviews that money can buy
According to market research firm Superdata, online videos about games are a $3.8 billion
industry that reaches over 468 million people annually.
That's a lot of people, and some game companies will do anything to get their attention, including
paying for positive coverage.
Now, there's nothing wrong with sponsored content, as long as it's labeled as such.
But not letting your audience know that you've received money to promote a product?
According to the Federal Trade Commission, that's straight-up illegal.
That's why fans got into such a tizzy when they learned that Machinima, a popular gaming
media company, gave creators bonuses if they posted positive videos about the then-upcoming
Xbox One.
Microsoft, of course, claims that it wasn't aware of the specifics of what Machinima was
doing, and promptly terminated the relationship.
Warner Bros., on the other hand, doesn't have the same excuse.
In 2016, the FTC revealed that Warner Bros. had shelled out thousands of dollars to video
creators, including big names like PewDiePie, to promote Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor.
Some, including PewDiePie, added a disclaimer to their videos.
Many others, however, did not.
That's not fair to viewers, who often take YouTubers at their word, so it's a good thing
that the FTC said something.
We just hope that publishers have learned their lesson.
Pre-order perils
Okay, so you're excited about that big, shiny new game coming out.
Just walk into your local video game shop the day it comes out and buy it.
While pre-orders made sense back in the day, when some of the hottest games on the market
shipped in limited supplies, those days are long gone for all but the most niche of titles.
In fact, pre-ordering tends to hurt more than it helps, unless, of course, you happen to
be GameStop or the publisher.
Those guys make out like bandits.
When you fork over a few bucks to pre-order a game, you're not just giving blood-sucking
corporations a short-term loan for no good reason.
You're giving them valuable data about your purchasing habits for no extra charge.
You're also committing to a purchase before you know whether or not a game is any good.
Of course, publishers continue to do everything they can to get you locked-in early, including
tacking on increasingly ridiculous pre-order bonuses and scattering exclusive add-ons among
the major retailers.
Don't fall for it.
Disband the boy's club
While women make up roughly half of the game-playing population, the industry is still overwhelmingly
male.
And unfortunately, it's got a very real harassment problem, one that publishers and
developers continue to deny.
For example, when not one but three separate outlets conducted investigations into Quantic
Dream, the studio behind Heavy Rain and Detroit: Become Human, they found "a toxic corporate
culture" in which some employees stuck their co-workers' faces into sexist, racist, and
otherwise inappropriate images, and where the studio's co-head allegedly kissed female
employees without their consent.
Or, consider that, in 2017, a Naughty Dog level designer accused a team lead of
harassment.
When he reported the abuse to Sony's human resources department, the man claims that
he was fired and offered $20,000 to stay quiet.
The more you dig, the worse things start to look.
Many victims of sexual harassment don't come forward at all, fearing that HR departments
will dismiss the claims, or, in some cases, even defend the alleged abusers, that it'll
damage their careers, and that they'll invite further abuse from internet trolls.
Sexual harassment is a problem that the video game industry needs to address, but as long
as studios keep denying the problem, it's hard to imagine things getting much better.
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