One More Go

Hosted and produced by Geoff Keighley, The Game Awards is an annual show, meant to celebrate games and champion their developers. Judged on that alone, the show is an utter failure. Instead it’s become an excuse (maybe it always was), to spin up the hype machine for upcoming releases. By my count, the main show contained trailers for upwards of 30 games yet to be released, as well as adverts between sections for recent releases and ongoing live service games. The number of award categories, 31, of which only nine were handed to a developer on the main stage, the rest were rattled out in blocks by Keighley or relegated to the pre-show event. Of the hundreds of games released, and the tens nominated, only nine games were represented by developers on stage at an event meant to celebrate their achievements.

Time that could have been spent with developers, allowing them to explain their craft and what has inspired them, was instead taken up by cross media advertising campaigns. I love The Muppets, but why are we talking to Gonzo for five minutes about his favourite video game chickens rather than hearing what was considered when announcing the nominees for each category. Gonzo, a muppet, was granted more screen time than any developer not promoting an upcoming release.

This event acts as a lightning rod for video games, putting a spotlight on the medium. Which makes it all the more tragic that instead of using that time to celebrate what makes video games exciting or special, and trying to entice more people to play and create games. We’re playing trailers, advertising competitions, and burying the thought that video games are actually developed by human beings. Video games are notoriously difficult to make, and it can be just as difficult to communicate what’s so hard about making them. These awards could be the perfect opportunity for developers to crack the door open and let a little light shine on the departments that have been nominated. Show me voice actors in the studio explaining how they approached their roles. Show me how Forza Motorsport was designed with accessibility in mind, how the art design of Alan Wake 2 distinguishes itself, or how Cyberpunk 2077 earns itself the Best Ongoing game. All of that context is absent, and so we end up with a list of categories, nominees, and winners devoid of any real meaning. What did JD Gaming achieve this year that meant they were named the Best Esports Team? I couldn’t tell you. All five of the esports categories were announced one after another, nestled between trailers, leaving me and most viewers none the wiser.

The categories themselves also fail to communicate what it takes to make a game. There are nominations for the best games in each genre, but absolutely nothing to reflect the different disciplines involved in bringing a game to life. Where’s the recognition for the animators? The level designers? The writers?

The award that epitomises all that is broken about The Game Awards is Most Anticipated Game. In an event that should be reflecting on the achievements of an under pressure workforce, we’re forced to consider what’s next on the horizon. They have not just surrounded every award with an advert, they have turned the awards themselves into adverts. This show has never felt more cynical, as it robs the developers working hard to create memorable experiences of their chance under the spotlight, in favour of advertising upcoming and adjacent products.