The Armor That Broke the Horse's In-Game Back
And how our curiosity enables us to take a stand.
Gaming changed forever in 2006.
It was the year cosmetic downloadable content (DLC) was introduced.
Bethesda Game Studios, creators of games such as The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (anyone remember the 2011 Dragonborn memes?), Fallout 3 and 4 and Starfield, had just released their newest game—The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion.
Oblivion was a phenomenal success. And then it happened. Bethesda added purchasable armor for the in-game horse. You could pay $2.50 to change the look of the horse.
Players were dumbstruck.
Paying EXTRA money, to change the way something looked, in their single-player game? No one else would even be able to see it?
Preposterous.
So, naturally, it was a massive success.
And the industry raced down the path, carved by a horse wearing weird, green pineapple(?) armor.
At the time of Oblivions release, games cost $60. For many years after, they cost the same Recently there’s been a trend toward $70 for the biggest releases, and even more may lie in the store for the future.
In 2010 the game God of War: 3 released, with a development cost of $44m. Extremely expensive for its time. In 2022, another entry in the franchise, God of War: Ragnarök, released. This entry cost $200m, an approximate increase of 5x1.
And this is not to account for marketing costs. CD Projekt Red released Cyberpunk 2077 in 2020, after a development cycle costing reportedly $174m2, and when you add in a marketing cost of $142m, we start cooking with gas. This also does not account for the fact that the game launched riddled with issues and broken promises, becoming a laughing stock, and requiring a further $120m to rehabilitate its image3.
So how does an industry with ballooning success, budgets, requirements, expectations and lengthened development cycles make it all sustainable, when the price of entry remains stagnant?
Well, they go hard on the extras one can buy to look or feel cool.
Release a game, and load it up with endless microtransactions, as they were originally dubbed.
Naturally, the slope on which we slide has been greased up. Games rely on these microtransactions, and selling them becomes an art form.
So, what if we were to push it?
And where are we today?
Blizzard Enteratinment’s masively succesful online game World of Warcraft requires a monthly subscription to play. It also requires an up-front cost, with new releases every few years.
The Celestial Steed was introduced in 2010. This was the very first item one could buy directly in-game with real money, outside of the cost to play. For the low cost of $25, you too, could have your very own “unique” horse with weird wings.
Fast forward to 2024. Hot off the heels of a recent, well-received, expansion release, Blizzard has added their latest store item: the Trader’s Gilded Brutosaur, for $90 (what?). This is less than two months after the release of the newest expansion at the cost of $49.99. This item is almost twice the cost of the actual game. And, of course, it’s available for a limited time, to really prey on the fear of mossing out.
And people love it. And people hate it.
It’s like buying running shoes, and then blowing twice as much money on a new shirt because it has a cool logo and is orange(and orange is obviously the best color).
Riot Games, creators of e-sport hit League of Legends, also drew headlines, with a potential $500 skin. And to make it even better, the price is obfuscated by their very own virtual currency. So, it’s at least doesn’t feel as bad cause you’re paying in magic internet money!
And at the same time, what constitutes “gameplay” is being pushed, experimenting with certain benefits and time-savers alongside these purchasable cosmetic items.
Anyone cynical enough could have seen this coming.
Those complaining back in the day saw it happening a decade in advance. The line continually creeps further ahead. We go from toeing it, to it moving, to toeing it, to it moving.
The incentive to keep pushing is too great. And eventually it’s normalized.
But we decide when the line’s moved quite far enough for our liking.
Those who remember how things used to be are displaced.
It’s like so many other things brought on by technology. Phones entered our lives, pushing the line of how present we are. TVs entered the house, pushing how many meals we share.
Sometimes, all we can do is take a stand, and watch as what we used to value erodes.
Do you feel the line moving? Are you able to take a stand? If not, think about why—and remember: there’s always something new to move towards.
Feel the pull of curiosity.
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https://www.theguardian.com/games/2023/apr/24/shuhei-yoshida-playstation-video-games-sony-bafta-fellowship-award
https://www.gamedeveloper.com/game-platforms/why-is-game-development-so-expensive-
https://kotaku.com/cdpr-cyberpunk-2077-dlc-phantom-liberty-budget-2-0-cost-1850904809
Ha yes, it's iconic at this point. I drive at least 2 hours each day on my commute so it's the only way, along with podcasts that make me feel like it's not wasted time.
The age of paying for something and getting it are over. Everything is subscription based (even Substack!) there's a micro transaction for everything.
When will it end? I can see it only getting worse.