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I enjoy playing video games, but I don't consider myself a "gamer" in any substantive fashion. I mostly play the same set of old games from my childhood, and when I do buy new consoles, I often make the purchase years after the consoles were first released--sometimes even waiting until the next generation to save some money. I also very rarely buy games on release. My wife, on the other hand, often pre-orders games, and sometimes she has to twist my arm to get me to play games with her.
From my outside perspective, the behaviors of both gaming companies and hardcore consumers in the video game industry are fascinating to me. I frequently see gamers complain bitterly about one aspect or another of the industry: predatory sales practices, hidden fees and microtransactions, sexualized advertising, broken promises, titles that underperform or are buggy to the point of inoperability, lack of originality, and so on. However, all these complaints don't seem to stop hardcore gamers from buying the consoles and games they decry from companies they dislike. Indeed, video games are still an enormously profitable industry, and they are culturally dominant on the Internet--to the point that gaming phrases, aesthetics and transaction models are steadily spreading to other areas of daily life.
This behavior contrasts with people who play video games casually: those who try out a game at a friend's house, or maybe get introduced to a game via a coworker, a Facebook friend, or even their children. They may play video games or only half an hour or an hour at a time, and if they find they don't like it, they'll likely never touch the console again, let alone that particular game. Even if they find that they like it, they may only play socially, or when they have some empty time between other hobbies or interests. Such people rarely play games for more than a dozen or so hours a year.
I fall in the middle between these two groups. I am quick to abandon games that don't grab my attention, and I don't follow new games very closely, but I spend a lot of time playing games I know I like. I don't know very many people who are the same way: almost all of my friends either care very little about video games or care a great deal. I have precious few people I can talk to about games who enjoy playing them but aren't obsessed with them.
Video games are not the only community to have this problem. An increasing number of groups and institutions in life seem to be suffering the disappearance of a happy medium. Much has been made of the dearth of moderates and independents in politics, as well as the disappearance of the middle class in Western countries. However, I see the problem all over the place. Movies are stratifying into hundred million-dollar extravaganzas or hundred thousand-dollar are house pet projects; musicians either get seven-figure deals from record companies or release their songs online for free; mid-priced restaurants close in droves, leaving in their wake only fast food chains and high-end steak- or seafood houses charging a full day's wages for one plate; bargain clothing brands from Walmart and Amazon or top designer labels are rapidly becoming our only options for garments; the quintessential American homestead is giving way to a dichotomy of studio apartments or multi-bedroom mansions whose average price creeps ever closer to a million dollars.
There's no spectrum anymore: everything is binary. You either love video games, or you hate them. You buy the top brands, or you scrape the bottom of the bargain bin. You're poor, or you're rich. You're politically left, or you're politically right. You're in the in-group, or you're in the out-group. You're with us, or you're against us. Which one are you?
I don't pretend to know why this is happening. Perhaps the Internet is so polarizing a force that the middle ground naturally ceases to exist. Perhaps companies have found out they can generate much greater profits by catering only to the very rich and the very poor. Perhaps the effects of the global economy have created a "slippery slope" of wealth that requires active advancement in order to avoid sliding into a lower economic class. Perhaps the age of global communication has simply made people hyper-focused on either increasing their status or saving money. Perhaps in-group pressure and herd mentality forces people to abandon decisions they would normally make that naturally fall into the middle. Or perhaps it's a little bit of all of the above.
Regardless of its cause, the rise of the binary worries me. I don't like the prospect that all I can purchase is the needlessly-premium or the disposably cheap. I like exploring all facets of ideas and political questions, not just picking one of two prepackaged sets. I don't want to have to be all in on a hobby, or else be considered a complete casual with no personal investment.
Where did the middle go?
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[Last updated: 2023-09-08]