Writing About Games is a Fool's Errand, But I'm No Fool

Boy, it sure is hard to be a games journalist.

I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve really, really tried.
As an aspiring games journalist, I’ve taken many different approaches and I’ve done some things I’m proud of, and some things I’m not particularly proud of.

I spent a while meticulously tracking the demise of 38 Studios – Curt Schilling’s former company that went under after squandering a hundred million dollar loan from the state of Rhode Island. I even emailed the famous pitcher himself, only to receive a blank email with the misleading subject line, “For Dan.”

Photo courtesy deadspin.com

I even snuck into a job fair for former employees of 38 Studios in an attempt to get the scoop on what the hell happened from the perspective of the people who were affected the most. Unfortunately, I learned a valuable lesson about non-disclosure clauses that day when nobody would talk to me about what went down. We still don’t really know the whole truth.

I once drove an hour and a half to Stamford, Connecticut, hopped on a train and rode it for another hour into Brooklyn, New York to attend a game journalist meet and greet at the invite of the delightful Harold Goldberg. I had hopes of meeting heavy hitters like the Stephen Totillo, Editor-in-Chief of Kotaku, and Chris Grant, Editor-in-Chief of Polygon. It went well - I even met with some folks from MTV and Unwinnable, but stupidly passed up offers to write for both.

I did get to meet with Chris, a tall, intimidating man, who asked me to pitch him an article idea. I stood there, in that dark, crowded, loud bar looking what felt like three feet up at this man who could completely change my fortune as a freelancer. I pitched him my idea about investigating the downfall of 38 Studios (a story that, as you see, I had put a lot of research into).

“That sort of thing has been done.” In fact it hadn’t really, but it would eventually be done by a staff editor for Polygon, the very site I had just pitched it to.

“Ok, how about a profile of a blind man who has devised a way to complete Ocarina of Time?” I said, pulling another card out of my sleeve.

“That’s not very original.”

It’s not supposed to be original! The guy didn’t do it to be original. He did it because he could. It’s a freaking human interest piece for crying out loud! I didn’t say that to him, but I wanted to.

Feeling deflated and depressed, I eventually took even more drastic steps.

Photo courtesy sanfrancisco.net

I moved out to San Francisco to pursue opportunities in the field. All the while, I continued to pitch Polygon via email, as well as other sites like IGN and GamesRadar. I also applied for several editorial positions, community manager jobs and even a couple long shot gigs with unknown mobile developers.

In four months, I got one job interview, with the now defunct @Gamer Magazine. The magazine was essentially Best Buy’s answer to GameStop’s deal with Game Informer. The magazine was connected very tightly to the retailer with promotional coupons and tie-ins included in each issue. I picked up two issues of the magazine to research their style and did loads of research on the Editor-in-Chief, Andy Eddy, with whom I Interviewed. 

The interview went exceptionally well, for most of it; we chatted about Connecticut, as he was also from the Nutmeg State, and we related well. Then, after about forty-five breezy minutes, he asked me the dreaded question:

“What can you offer that makes you stand out?”

I hate that question! You don’t really want someone who stands out. You want someone who will keep the status quo, and write inoffensive previews and fluff pieces!

“I have a passion for telling the stories behind the games.” I said, as though that’s something that makes me stand out – it’s actually not. There are many writers who do that, and do it very well. “I want to shed light on the people that make the games, and I think that will engender excitement for the games themselves. I want to go around the PR representatives rather than through them.” A very honest answer, and exactly the philosophy I still try to work under. But it was not the answer he wanted.

“That’s not what we do here.” He said coldly and bluntly, hammering a nail right through my heart.

And with that, the interview was essentially over. We exchanged pleasantries, but that was basically it. Done. And now, the magazine doesn’t exist. So even if that opportunity had panned out, it wouldn’t have lasted long at all.

I’m clearly not the only person who knows of the challenges in this field.

I’ve had correspondence with Brian Shea, former Editor-in-Chief and founder of videogamewriters.com, a site that’s produced several successful writers, including Brian himself, who was just hired on as Associate Editor of the second largest magazine in the world – Game Informer.

Though I have great respect for him, I find it hard to be happy, as I know one of my best friends in the field was passed over for the very same position.

The road to success is lined with corpses it would seem.

That’s not to say that I haven’t enjoyed some minor personal successes.

My investigative look into the disaster of I Am Alive’s development at Ubisoft had me interviewing one of the creative leads of the game, researching its history and making a breakthrough with an anonymous source that risked their job to tell me details about the game’s development nightmare.

The story was cited by Kotaku, Destructoid and Eurogamer. It blew up in France, where the game was developed, and has been read over twelve thousand times - not including tangential hits from secondary sources.  That may not seem huge, but for a site as small as The Game Effect, it was one of our most successful articles in the two years that I wrote for the site. I look back at that article with a mix of pride and embarrassment, as all I see when I read it, are the mistakes I made and areas for improvement.

Photo courtesy nerdbacon.com
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And that’s the thing that drives me. I am constantly trying to get better and improve my style. I’m always looking for that next success. I’d like to keep The Weekend Paper going until it becomes its own minor success. There’s much that I’d like to do in order to improve the site and to expand my creative canvas.

The first thing I’d like is to buy a domain name and create a URL for the site, rather than using the constrained and janky blogspot template. I’d also like to expand my video output, and for that I would need a more capable PC, along with a decent video capture device for pulling game footage off of the TV. In order to achieve all that I’ll need feedback and support.


Anyone who would like to support me is welcome to give a one-time monetary donation. Think of me as a street performer, and this is my guitar case. If you’d like to place a couple bills in the case, I’d greatly appreciate it. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the music. If you have any suggestions for how I can improve the site, please let me know. Because, if you’ve read this far, then you're my audience. You’re who I want to entertain and serve and for whom I intend to improve.

You can read more about how Go Fund Me works by following the link above and reading the terms and conditions. 

No matter what, thank you for reading and supporting the dreams of this struggling subway musician.

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