I saw someone write up a metaphor comparing the Kotaku/Ubisoft/Bethesda situation to a boyfriend and girlfriend. The boyfriend shares secrets about the girlfriend, the metaphor says, so the girlfriend dumps him. Then the boyfriend publicly calls her out for being a bitch.

The fundamental flaw with that metaphor is the fundamental flaw with oh so much of games journalism today: We are not in a relationship with the people we cover.

Over the past few years, one of the things that’s bothered me most about covering the video game world is the PR-cultivated illusion that video game publishers and journalists are buddies, that they’re on the same team, working together toward the same goals. “Hey, we’re all just here to tell people about cool video games!” You see it all over, from the booze-heavy preview events to the PR people showing up at homes and offices with free swag. You see it in the lavish “influencer” events and cross-video promotions. You see it in the video-makers criticizing Fallout 4 reviews while wearing Pip-Boys on their wrists. You see it go beyond reporting, too—big comic companies strike deals with publishers to make strips that promote the latest AAA games. That’s one of the reasons you see so many journalists switch over to PR or other fields in the industry. It’s all one big happy family.

I should say: There are plenty of great critics and reporters working in this field who do smart, independent work, even if they are part of the industry bubble. And there are plenty of great people who have moved from journalism to game development or PR. But this is a systemic issue, and like most systemic issues, it’s difficult to analyze on a case-by-case basis. The truth is that if you cover games—if you go to E3 and PAX every year and spend lots of time hanging out with the very cool people who work in this industry—you start feeling like you’re part of a great big team. It’s impossible to avoid. You start thinking of companies like “Bethesda” and “Ubisoft” not as corporations that you cover but as organizations made up of the cool people you get to hang out with a few times a year. To say that this doesn’t subtly influence the way journalists do work would be a blatant lie. Responsible journalists have to recognize that influence and do their best to overcome it.

Because of this team mentality, when someone strays from the pack and starts reporting on news that interferes with the PR cycle, that veers away from the marketing plan, some people get upset. "Hey," they say, "why isn’t this guy playing ball?" Most of the folks working for game studios and publishers are smart, reasonable people who understand that a journalist has to stay independent, that their job is to report and serve readers, not accommodate a publisher's wishes. But some industry people feel betrayed. Some people feel like the journalist has violated the sanctity of their relationship. They say things like "leaking video game news hurts developers" and "stop airing dirty laundry." They want to protect the status quo.

Of course, we’re talking about video games here. This is entertainment. It’s silly. It’s fun. Nobody’s going to die if reporters are too close to publishers. And it’s perfectly OK for a journalist to be friendly with PR people and developers—in fact, it’s necessary for any good reporter to do his or her job. We’re in the business of telling stories, and often that means working together with devs and PR people in ways that are beneficial to everyone.

But we’re not on the same team. And we’re certainly not in a relationship.

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