It’s been just a few months since IGN’s owner, Ziff Davis, snatched up notable Gamer Network publications like GamesIndustry.biz, RockPaperShotgun, and VG247. Predictably, the acquisition has led to a wave of staff departures, combining layoffs and so-called “voluntary” buyouts.
While these moves have left employees scrambling and the dwindling number of naïve readers scratching their heads, the future of Western games journalism looks increasingly bleak, if not completely irrelevant.
Ziff Davis has leaned heavily on “soft layoffs,” offering buyouts to employees under the pretense of helping them “move on” or “explore new opportunities.” These sanitized corporate buzzwords barely conceal the reality of restructuring and cost-cutting.
Sound familiar? It should. This playbook was used not long ago by Kotaku’s parent company, G/O Media, when they started phasing out writers who prioritized outrage-baiting over actual gaming coverage. It turns out, slandering gamers as sexist and racist isn’t a sustainable business model, shocking, I know.
Reports from Semafor further corroborated the ongoing purge, with media editor Max Tani sharing an email that outlined the specifics of Ziff Davis’ cuts. The pattern is clear: gaming journalism’s relentless decline continues unabated, as the industry grapples with its inability to stay relevant in a world where gamers have moved on to better sources for news and opinions resulting in their revenue declining by 10% over the past three years.
One of the most striking outcomes of this corporate shake-up has been the turmoil at GamesIndustry.biz. Key figures such as editor-in-chief James Batchelor, deputy editor Marie Dealessandri, and head of games B2B Chris Dring have departed, leaving the publication in a precarious state.
Reports from Aftermath suggest that just one full-time employee might remain at GamesIndustry.biz, a glaring indicator of the ongoing collapse of Ziff Davis-owned outlets. This mass exodus not only highlights the instability within these publications but also underscores the growing disconnect between games media and its audience, raising serious doubts about the future of these platforms.
So, why are these outlets hemorrhaging employees? The answer lies in their obsession with progressive, “woke” agendas that have steadily infected what were once respected gaming publications. Instead of focusing on gameplay, investigative journalism or covering what truly matters to gamers, these outlets have become little more than cheerleaders for titles that align with BlackRock’s Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) standards.
Games are praised not for their innovation or entertainment value but for virtue-signaling elements that tick corporate diversity and inclusivity boxes.
This ideological shift has driven a wedge between the games media and the gamers they claim to represent. The priorities of these publications have strayed so far from their audience’s interests that their decline feels less like a loss and more like an inevitable correction.
These so-called “woke” games are hailed as masterpieces by journalists who willfully ignore that their audiences have long since grown tired of the pandering and political correctness infecting the modern gaming landscape. The disconnect is glaring: gamers crave engaging stories and fun gameplay, while journalists prioritize narratives that conform to corporate ESG guidelines, irrespective of what players, or even developers actually want.
Gaming journalists are so out of touch with their core audience that they’ve become agents of division, championing inclusivity and representation while viciously defaming anyone who dares to push back. Case in point: the coordinated hit pieces directed at GameScience, the Chinese indie studio behind Black Myth: Wukong. IGN and others eagerly parroted allegations of sexual discrimination and misogyny against the studio without concrete evidence, all to further their own agendas.
It’s a blatant example of how the gaming press weaponizes its platform to attack developers who don’t conform to their ideological mold.
IGN’s hypocrisy doesn’t stop there. The outlet recently decried the idea of a Resident Evil 5 remake, labeling the game as racist. Why? Because it’s set in Africa, where protagonists Chris Redfield and Sheva Alomar, a Black woman no less must fight through hordes of infected villagers to stop a global outbreak.
Apparently, portraying a story within its cultural and geographical context is too problematic for journalists obsessed with filtering every game through the lens of racial identity and identity politics.
This relentless push for conformity, coupled with their disdain for dissenting opinions, reveals just how far removed gaming journalists are from the players they’re supposed to serve. Their priorities lie not with the gamers but with enforcing a corporate-driven ideological agenda, even at the cost of alienating their readership and stifling creativity in the industry.
Gaming journalists don’t just ignore the voices of the very audience they claim to represent, they outright hold them in contempt. Gamers want fun, challenging, and innovative experiences, not agenda-driven narratives shoehorned into their entertainment. But modern outlets hypocritically champion “woke” drivel while vilifying any game that doesn’t align with their ideological checklist.
Take Stellar Blade, for example. It was demonized for being “sexist” because its protagonist dares to be an attractive woman with an “unrealistic” body type. Meanwhile, these same journalists shower praise on Hades 2 for its so-called diversity and inclusion, where sexualized depictions of masculine brown women and crippled fat men are somehow celebrated.
This double standard is emblematic of an industry more focused on pushing political agendas than on celebrating creativity or fun. The message is clear: if a game appeals to gamers instead of fitting neatly into a journalist’s ideological framework, it will be labeled problematic, no matter how absurd the reasoning.
Games journalists despise femininity and the fact that gamers refuse to conform to their worldview—one where everything must reflect their own repulsiveness, both ideologically and often, ironically, outwardly. Escapism is no longer allowed; it’s deemed offensive and “problematic.”
These journalists actively undermine anything that challenges their narrative, as seen with their overblown boycott of Hogwarts Legacy. Why? Because of its tangential connection to J.K. Rowling, a so-called TERF guilty of stating the obvious about basic human biology. Despite Rowling having no direct involvement in the game, these outlets couldn’t resist scrutinizing it as “transphobic,” prioritizing outrage over actual coverage.
Meanwhile, games like Hades 2 are celebrated for their blatant “blackwashing” of Greek mythology, and Assassin’s Creed Shadows earns praise for rewriting Japanese history to falsely depict Yasuke as a samurai, pandering to a pro-Black narrative. Any criticism of Ubisoft’s historical revisionism is immediately labeled racist, shutting down meaningful discussion under the guise of social justice.
Yet the hypocrisy is glaring when the tables are turned. Outlets eagerly parrot the outrage of Western activists who accused miHoYo of “whitewashing” the Natlan region in Genshin Impact, based solely on aesthetic choices.
This selective outrage only proves that journalists don’t care about representation or cultural accuracy, they care about enforcing their agenda while vilifying gamers who dare to push back. Their disdain for the very audience they rely on has turned gaming journalism into a self-parody, more concerned with lecturing than informing.
At the heart of this shift is a dangerous reliance on corporate-backed mandates. The industry’s embrace of ESG principles, whether through token diversity, environmentally “sustainable” game mechanics, or themes that meet political correctness quotas has transformed what was once a community-driven industry into a corporate playground where publishers like Ziff Davis employ activists to uphold such agendas and kotow to investment firms like BlackRock.
These firms care more about enforcing social change than about creating games people actually want to play. It’s no longer about the art of gaming; it’s about advancing an ideological agenda.
The disconnect between games journalists and their audience couldn’t be more apparent. Games are praised not for their gameplay or narrative depth but for shoehorning in forced diversity, preachy messaging, and overt political agendas. Meanwhile, titles that embrace traditional gaming values, fun, challenge, and creativity are derided as “dated” or “problematic.”
These journalists are so far removed from the gamers who fuel the industry that they might as well be writing for an echo chamber. Their primary concern isn’t serving the passionate and diverse fanbase that turned gaming into a cultural powerhouse; it’s advancing an ideological agenda tailored to an increasingly narrow, woke audience.
Imagine any other industry where people keep their jobs after openly disrespecting and condemning the customer. Would a restaurant keep a waiter who spat in customers’ food? Yet, in gaming journalism, this kind of contempt for the consumer is somehow tolerated and somehow rewarded.
For over a decade, gamers have stopped relying on these outdated outlets. The internet has rendered traditional gaming journalism irrelevant, with platforms like YouTube, Reddit, and social media offering instant access to news, reviews, and discussions.
Independent creators have risen to fill the void, providing authentic voices that actually connect with their audience. Meanwhile, gaming journalism has been relegated to a relic of a “bygone era,” desperately clinging to relevance while its readers move on.
Gaming magazines didn’t simply fade into obscurity, they were put out of their misery. Why? Because they devolved into nothing more than corporate shills, shamelessly hyping up whoever paid the most and sidelining or outright burying any company that refused to buy into their pay-to-play PR racket.
Journalist outlets today provide no other service than acting as corporate mouthpieces for AAA publishers.
Modern gaming publications have fallen into the same cesspool as their predecessors. Overhyped AAA trash gets showered with glowing, uncritical reviews, while truly fun and innovative indie titles are either ignored or unfairly torn apart. These so-called journalists no longer represent gamers, they’ve become nothing more than mouthpieces for publishers and investment firms like BlackRock, prioritizing diversity quotas and ESG acceptance over actual gaming experiences.
The media’s obsession with woke narratives and ESG-approved content has only deepened the rift between them and their audience. Instead of championing games that players are excited to play, they heap praise on titles engineered to tick corporate diversity checkboxes or preach “sustainability” mechanics. It’s no wonder these outlets are bleeding viewers, losing ad revenue left and right as gamers turn to more authentic sources or just form their own opinions without the interference of progressive hacks ranting about “fragile masculinity.”
Thanks to modern technology, gamers no longer need these outdated gatekeepers. Platforms like YouTube and Twitch let players share news, reviews, and opinions directly with their communities. Forums, Discord servers, and social media create spaces for genuine discussions about games, free from the meddling of agenda-driven journalists. The gaming world has moved on, leaving these irrelevant outlets behind.
Traditional gaming journalism today is as relevant as a horse-drawn carriage in the era of cars, outdated, unnecessary, and painfully obsolete. Is it any surprise, then, that these journalist ventures are hemorrhaging staff? The only thing they still offer is access to industry perks: early previews of games, exclusive interviews with developers who cater to their whims, and front-row seats to events.
But even those perks feel hollow, given how little value they bring to actual gamers.
The recent mass exodus from Ziff Davis-owned outlets is just another nail in the coffin of a dying industry. Gamers don’t care for puff pieces praising bland AAA mediocrity or think pieces lecturing them about why their favorite games are “problematic.” What they crave are genuine discussions, unbiased reviews, and real news. And guess what? They’ve found those elsewhere, on platforms where authenticity and player-driven perspectives reign supreme.
In July, Ziff Davis subsidiary Humble Games announced it was “undergoing restructuring,” though reports from multiple outlets painted a bleaker picture, claiming the company had effectively shut down, leaving its entire 36-member team without jobs. A significant number of Humble staff accepted the buyout offer, as confirmed by a current Ziff Davis employee and a former Humble staffer. The situation highlights the instability within Ziff Davis’ ventures and raises questions about the future of such restructuring efforts.
Ziff Davis’ so-called restructuring is merely a symptom of a greater problem: an industry that has outlived its usefulness. Gaming journalism didn’t just fade into irrelevance it ran head first into a brick wall. Gamers have made their choice loud and clear, turning away from these archaic publications in favor of sources that actually understand and respect their audience.
It’s time for gaming media to face reality: their survival doesn’t hinge on endless corporate restructuring or chasing the next big progressive narrative. It depends on reconnecting with the gamers they claim to represent—a task they’ve consistently failed to achieve. If they can’t adapt, they won’t just be left behind; they’ll be erased, forgotten as the gaming world forges ahead without them.
Frankly, I have zero sympathy for these so-called “journalists” receiving their pink slips. These cushy, anti-gamer propagandists have spent years targeting consumers and pushing agendas, all while ignoring what gamers actually care about. The idea of their livelihoods being impacted doesn’t elicit an ounce of pity, if anything, it feels like long-overdue justice.
Let them face the consequences of their disdain for the very audience they were supposed to serve. If that means losing their jobs and being forced to confront the reality of their irrelevance, so be it.
