Sunday, December 11, 2011
To a fickle mistress...
"Everyday through all frustration and despair
Love and hate fight with burning hearts
'til legends live and man is god again
and self-preservation rules the day no more"
It's been such a long time. Relationships tend to fade that way. Not long ago I could not even imagine you being out of my life. Nearly 17 years. We grew older together, and at the same time, we grew apart. You were always the demanding one. I was just thankful for what you were giving me.
Yes, Games industry, you are a fickle mistress.
I'm not going to document the whole thing. We were kids when our dalliance started. L'insouciance de la jeunesse.You were on the way up already, and I was fancying you no end, from a distance. I wanted to be with you. So many people wanted to be with you, it was just before you became the trendy big thing that you are. You were edgy, exciting. You knew the meaning of fun back then. I worked my way up to you, and you were a bit scary to start with. Such was your character. And eventually you embraced me, I showed my worth to you, and we became firm friends for a short time, and then it went X rated. We were at it all the time. You LOVED it! You loved my presence in you. And you were paying me back no end.
Oh, the fun we used to have together. We went places. I spent countless days, evenings and weekends with you. It was hard keeping up with you, but also so fulfilling. Getting your recognition was the daily reward for my hard work. It was the best time we had together, surely.
But you're fickle. There's always a prettier boy around the corner.
One day I woke up, and you were not in my life anymore. I was irrelevant. Washep up. That was it. I tried to cling on to you, out of desperation probably. I was sure I could work my way to your love again. But my heart wasn't in it anymore. You'd changed.
Not that our relationship had been smooth sailing really. You're a challenging one. You threw quite a few curveballs at me. You wanted me to be the best I could be, and you reminded me when I was getting complacent. I loved that about you.
And then you got big ideas. You needed more. And more. And even more. Yes, my dear industry, you became a rich bitch. High maintenance. Not an endearing trait, really.
You got in bed with the big boys. Big money. I guess that is just that time in your life, you like the bling, you like the adoration. And now you are oh so serious. Not fun to be with anymore.
And yet somehow, you have that fling with the indie boys. How I despise that word. Indie. Seen as a badge of honour. Look at us, we're indies! It seems to me that they are just as desperate as I was to stay with you. Reinventing themselves to appeal to you once again, and it might even work for a short time. Have you told them that you shall not tolerate failure? Don't they realise how fickle you are? In the end, you will uncover their deception, and they will have to conform to your very high standards, or, like me, they will have to leave you.
Leaving you. I didn't. You left me, really.
And why wouldn't I be upset? You've never been honest enough to tell me you had enough of me. You never told me "That's it, look somewhere else". I had to work that out myself. That is not something you should be proud of. You've always known I do not handle rejection kindly, and yet, you refused yourself to me over and over again.
Look at you now. Age has not been kind to you. You're getting uglier by the day. You're just stuttering the same old crap every year just to get the money in. Trying to attract 'a new audience'. You're all marketing speak and sales figures. Design by commitee. You're trying to pigeonhole all your lovers, you've become a control freak. From young, care free, fun and rewarding to bitter, venal and emasculating in 17 years.
So don't expect me back. Don't expect me to work ever so hard for you fickle attention. I shall not fall for the overrated comfort of your bosom again. I've outgrown you. It's best we do not keep in touch.