Imagine I’m a friend of yours. I tell you about this all-you-can-eat restaurant that’s about to open up down the road, and how fantastic it’s going to be. I show you pictures of the venue, I give you a menu that lists a huge variety of things that you’ll be able to get there. Maybe we even visit the location one day, and I take you on a guided tour of the premises. You’re excited, after all, your favourite dishes are on that menu and I’m telling you all the right things about this restaurant — it’s promising to be something that you’ve never tried before, and I’m giving you everything in the world to believe that. After a time, the day of the grand opening arrives, and we’re one of the first customers through the door. We pay the entry fee, and we get access to the buffet. You discover that a huge number of things on the menu that I showed you aren’t available, and the things that are there are nowhere near as good as they were described. The venue is fine, but it’s noticeably different from the guided tour I gave you. How would you feel? You’d probably be a bit upset, maybe even angry — but you’d probably be less so if I wasn’t aware this was coming down the pipe. Now imagine that I owned this restaurant. I was involved from the very beginning, and I was completely aware of its shortcomings as it was approaching opening day. How would you feel then?
Now imagine it’s a year or two later, and I coax you back into the restaurant. This time, it looks a lot closer to the tour I gave you. A lot of the things that I said would be on the menu, are actually there. The food tastes good, and people are starting to talk about it in a positive light. How would you feel? Would you feel happy that the picture I gave you years ago has started to become a reality? Would you be happy that the dishes you wanted are there, and they taste pretty good? Very possibly. However, for me, this is not an interesting question. The interesting question is should you be happy? If I came to you with another restaurant pitch, should you trust me again? Now imagine I wasn’t your friend, I was just some marketing guy from the restaurant. Is that better, or worse? Is it your fault for believing what I told you? Is it an honest mistake by me, the marketing person? The answer to all of these questions, in my opinion, is an emphatic no. The problem with No Man’s Sky is not so much that the game did not exist in the form it was advertised as: the games industry is absolutely filled with games that fit this description. The problem is more what it represents.
Cards on the table, I have barely played NMS. I dipped my toe in quite a while after release, and didn’t particularly enjoy what I played. That’s fine, not every game is for every person. I do not fault the game for being an experience that is not for me, as it’s my understanding that many people enjoy the game as it currently exists. My problem is with the spreadsheet above. No Man’s Sky is now receiving praise for the large amount of after-release support that the developers have given it. There are many articles singing the praises of Hello Games, and heralding NMS as “…one of the all-time biggest turnarounds in industry history“. There are innumerable Youtube videos describing how NMS is the game to play in 2021, and how you simply must try it. After all, look at how far it’s come! Comparisons are being made to Final Fantasy XXIV, an MMO that released in a similarly poor state, but has grown to being one of the most popular MMORPGS currently running. Should Hello Games not be lauded with praise, for being silent workhorses to bring the game into such a fantastic state?
I recall an argument I had with my Philosophy teacher in secondary school. He was a CoE Christian (as far as I know), and doubled as a Religious Education teacher when he wasn’t teaching Philosophy to the more senior years at the school. The lesson was about free will, and the idea of the world requiring it to have ‘meaningful good’. The example he presented to us, was a murderer who came to be redeemed through righteous action, and went on to live a good life. The question he asked was: is it not better for someone to arrive at the good through their own effort and choice, rather than to have the good simply foisted upon them. The notion being that, the murderer was more fitting of the word ‘good’, because they had strived to achieve it, rather than simply being unable to do otherwise (lacking in free will). My counterpoint/return question was simple. “Better for who? Was it better for the people that were murdered?” Everyone clapped. In all seriousness, I can’t remember his response to that, I’m not sure he even gave one.
The world loves a redemption arc. There’s something inherently compelling about this type of story, and it appears throughout fiction and within real world narratives. So let’s reframe the murderer analogy above to fit NMS (not to imply that what Hello Games did was akin to murder, despite claims to the contrary in the internet response they got initially). Was it better that No Man’s Sky released in an absolutely shoddy state and then slowly crawled its way to being the picture that was sold originally, versus simply releasing in that state to begin with? The obvious answer is no, but I think the objection will be “well, the game couldn’t release in the state it exists in now, because they didn’t have the two years they’ve had to make it that way”. While this is true, the point that I’m trying to make is that there was no inherent value to this “redemption arc”. If you had to choose between releasing NMS as it existed, versus releasing it as it exists now, you’d choose the latter every time. The world was not better for them having released a shittier product, and then slowly making it better over time. If you were one of the people that bought the game for full price on release, your world will have been several pounds worse for it. Let’s bring out that spreadsheet again.
The problem with this spreadsheet, and how it’s being used, is that it’s being presented as a demonstration of how far the game has come. Look at all the green, look at the features at the bottom which they released from the goodness of their hearts! It’s definitely useful in that regard, but the bigger question for me is, why is there any red at all? This isn’t a changelog, where the state of the game is being compared neutrally between launch and now. This is a list of lies. This is a menu of dishes that were never in the buffet. The red column is describing a game that did not exist, but was sold as though it did. This is a statement of charges, a list of damages. One should look at this spreadsheet and ingest the magnitude of the lie that was told about the game. Here’s my personal feeling on this: You don’t get credit for lying about something, and then making it true after the fact. While you’re certainly in a better position than someone who lied and then made no attempt to reconcile that, you’re absolutely not in the same position as someone who never lied to begin with. Not even close. Perhaps this spreadsheet is to be seen as a statement on the wider games industry — we’re so used to being sold a bill of goods that doesn’t exist, that companies are now worthy of praise for even attempting to make good on that original lie. I don’t want to live in that world. I don’t want to live in a world where liars are given more credit than those who never lied to begin with.
So we come to what I consider to be, ‘the biggest problem’. There’s a narrative being built here — a narrative of “well, this game released in a terrible state, but maybe they’ll pull a No Man’s Sky on it”. I’m hearing it with regard to Cyberpunk 2077, a game that similarly was sold on a bill of goods that was inaccurate (in some respects better, in some respects worse, see: previous gen console performance). I’ve heard it before with other live service games, where there’s this glimmer of hope that the developers will swoop down and deliver the game as it was promised. This is not a sane world to live in. Customers are no longer buying a game, they’re being asked to buy the potential of a game. “Ah, sure, it’s bad now, but give it a few months and maybe it’ll be what they said it would be.” Note that this is not the same as buying a game due to a release roadmap, not that roadmaps have held much water in the past: this is people buying games on the off-chance that they’ll start to become what they were originally sold as. This simply isn’t acceptable. These companies should be constantly raked across the coals for their deception. Every article about No Man’s Sky should be caveated with “bearing in mind, these new features are what they lied about the game having at launch”. I know there’ll be a defense here of “well, that’s marketing, deal with it”. Fuck that. If marketing is the act of lying about a product, then burn down that whole field. If that’s what it is, then let’s stop using the word ‘Marketer’, and start calling them ‘Professional Liars’.
There were two lessons that could have been learned from No Man’s Sky. The first one, was that with a bit more time and development effort, you can make a really good game. As I said at the very start, by all appearances it does seem like NMS has become something that people genuinely enjoy playing. This is not an original sentiment, it’s a tried and tested principle that Shigeru Miyamoto is most famously quoted for:
“A delayed game is eventually good, but a rushed game is forever bad,”
There are so many games that fall into this category. Obviously there are some that are beyond saving, Valve’s Artifact would fall into this bucket for me, as a game that was never going to work because the foundation was so poor. Time was not a problem there, but it’s a problem for a lot of games. There was a world in which No Man’s Sky was delayed, where a spokesperson came forwards and ate a mile of humble pie. The game would be delayed because it wasn’t the experience they sold, and they wanted to make good on that promise. The cost of development would need to be absorbed somewhere, but the game would release, closer to the version we have now — maybe people would complain about the things which were still missing, but it’d be a lot more like what they were sold. Then there’s the second lesson. The second lesson is that you can lie to customers about the state of a product and you’ll get a pass to eventually make good on your original promises. That what you sell does not have to resemble what you made, because eventually that may start to be the case. That even though you sold something that fundamentally did not exist, you’ll get a load of positive press and free advertising when you eventually drag it closer to that line. That customers have the memory of goldfish, and they’ll forget all the pre-release content you put out, artfully crafted with content that just wasn’t in the game.
I think you can guess what lesson the games industry learned.