Reading this has been an exercise in nostalgia and the quiet dread of all things in life slowly going bad.
I try to not be too cynical, even if cynicism runs heavy in my blood, but stories of the “good old times” always have a sad ending. Such is the way of life - everything has an end, both good and bad, but it’s the good we miss, even if the good wasn’t really that good and what we have now might be so much better in other ways. And yet it is sad to read about the rise of something that sounds great, just for it to come tumbling down in what seems like the inevitable desolation of the dominant contemporary economic system (yeah, we’re complaining about capitalism again - but with a book so concerned with the slow erosion of artistry in the name of profit and greed, what else could it be? In this day and age?) So I try not to be too cynical, but buddy, it is difficult.
Especially so when we’re speaking of a company whose games - and pardon me if I sound cliché - we’re personally so formative. I still remember booting up Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos, its evocative menu screen, its striking cinematics, and the way its story kept surprising my teenage mind. Here’s Arthas, the human knight, sent to save them all, the hero in shining armour, but oh no! The things he’s willing to do! The betrayals! The sacrifice of his dwarf friend! The end! And then - here’s Thrall, one of the hated orcs (it was a long time before I became aware of the larger racial problems with orcs in fiction, I’m sorry), but he’s sensitive, he’s caring, he’s peaceful - and he is called by a mysterious prophet with an enigmatic call “Seek me out!” that reverberated through my life for years.
I fell for the game, head over heels. I played it and replayed it. Even went back and played the previous, more simplistic entries (finished the first, even if it was ancient by that time, and even liked the second (okay, I enjoyed the first one too)). I figure it was around that time, or perhaps years later, when I found out that the weird funny puzzley 2D game I had played at a my mom’s friend’s house with her step-son in my younger childhood every new year’s eve (which seemed to be the only time we visited) was actually The Lost Vikings, developed by this very same company - more dear memories to attribute.
Diablo 2 followed, and although I wasn’t quite as drawn to it, I played more than I would these days of a game I’m not a big fan of, and quite enough for it to carve itself into my memories and my very being. I spent a year listening to a friend telling me about World of Warcraft, which I couldn’t play because of lack of money and a lacking PC; when I finally got to it, I only managed 4 months; I have some cherished memories, and yet it disappointed (never was a big fan of MMORPGs). Diablo 3 came in its own time, played through it with friends (who made fun of my female barbarian in ways which looking back were sexist as hell) and dabbled alone, but after the always-online requirement killed my single-life character, I was done with the game. Then, when I thought I was done with Blizzard itself (I gave way too much of my life to Valve’s Dota 2 while Blizzard’s own MOBA efforts floundered unnoticed), there came Overwatch, touched the same part in me that had loved Team Fortress 2, and I was back again to generate even more cherished memories.
But what’s the point of all this blabber about my nostalgia? For me to bask in it, perhaps, but for anybody else? Ultimately, my stories are what I said at first - clichés. It seems like most people who worked at Blizzard after a certain point did so because of the very same stories. So just imagine what it must feel like to know:
Blizzard always kinda sucked, and corporatisation just made it suck in new and even worse ways.
At least the old Blizzard cared about releasing good games, as Schreier makes clear in this book, but it was also a deeply exploitative place that underpaid its employees because “they should be happy enough to work at Blizzard” (funny how that didn’t extend to the leaders). They also worked at stingy offices with broken furniture and old computers that they fought over because, after all, shouldn’t you just be so happy to be here? There’s a nerf gun, buddy, get at them!
And if that wasn’t enough, here’s also a buttload of sexism, abuse, and fratboy culture - the California vs Activision-Blizzard court case might have screwed many things up when making its case against Blizzard, but the general vibe of the case was horribly true - everybody was exploited, but women the most, both when it came to their careers (the glass ceiling was more like cement) and as objects of male lust; Schreier has interviewed enough people that there are female voices that say they enjoyed their time at the company, but it even those tend to remark that the culture did have its problems (and some, heartbroken at being let go at first, were later glad they’d gotten out).
And if that wasn’t enough either, well, becoming one of the most successful gaming companies in a system where you have to keep earning more and more every year will destroy you because in this kind of system there is no understanding of how reality actually works, and most of all art and the creative pursuits. This system cannot understand that games can be different from each other, make money differently, or that they can peak and then slowly disappear, and that’s fine as others take their place. No, the numbers must keep going up, and if they don’t, fucking get your shit together or we’ll fire you and find a new person to do it for us.
So perhaps it’s no surprise that the latest teaser from Blizzard promising a new fascinating game failed to rouse my interest. Sure, the nostalgia in the teaser touched me (so many great (and not-so-great) games!), and yet we’ve known for years that these things don’t last, and Schreier’s book is just a nail in the coffin of our understanding.
Of course things can change, after all Schreier’s whole previous book was about rebirth in the videogame industry, but perhaps just as with games, so do companies have peaks and witherings until they’re replaced by new ones. Phoenixes exist (Activision itself was one), but not every one is. Some just continue existing and only occasionally luck into releasing something good (like, EA can release the occasional good game, but it would not be good because it’s a game from EA - that would be incidental; apparently so is it with Blizzard now).
Schreier moves through Blizzard’s story with perhaps a bit too much speed - I would have enjoyed spending more time digging into its history, or heard more about what happened with the various important people who left the company at various times (one must resort to private searches, but Wikipedia is not nearly as interested in the less-famous makers of videogames as Schreier).
But it might also be my favourite book from Schreier. Partly because it’s hitting my nostalgia so heavily, partly because it’s putting a considerable part of my life into perspective, partly because through the story of Blizzard the book becomes the story of the dangers of corporatisation and the folly of demanding bigger profits every year (though this is not the first time Schreier’s book book has glared at it); honestly, it becomes a story about capitalism itself, and the difficulties of the creative spirit to survive in a system that values financial gains over everything else. It’s also caustically critical of too much testosterone and booze running a company, even if Schreier can’t help but have some aspect of him wonder whether that was part of what made it the good times.
But that’s perhaps more because he’s a busy interviewer - many of the people he interviewed yearn for those good old days, but Schreier also gives voice to the people who wonder whether there were indeed any good old days. They used to make better games, sure, but they made them in conditions that were in many ways horrific and burnt through people’s lives (though I agree with others that Schreier should probably have given even more space and attention to the victims).
Perhaps this is Schreier’s best book because it examines a single issue in considerable depth, looking at it from different sides, giving nuance to things many of us probably never had, and analysing through the simple act of viewing and commenting what exactly went so wrong, and whether there is any hope.
Which of course there is, as Schreier, ever the optimist, chooses to fulfill his final sentence with; just maybe not for Blizzard.
But who knows. Phoenixes do exist, and things do change. Either way, this is a great book about a niche topic that might yet touch many more people than one might presume.
Because this is not just videogames, this is the world we live in - our lives are driven by the need for money while our souls yearn for something greater. This here is a story of a company built to satisfy the second but which fell prey to the first. It ain’t the only one of its kind.
Here’s to memories; but here’s too for better futures.
And may Schreier keep writing these books which I cannot help devouring.