I belong to the first generation that grew up with video games, so video games have been one of my long-standing hobbies.
When considering games in general today, I categorize them into two types: “online multiplayer games” and “single-player games.” However, I feel a slight sense of unease that these two are often confused, and society doesn’t make a clear distinction between them.
This article puts into words the sense of unease I feel about games.
Online multiplayer games and single-player games
First off, I’d like to state that I’ve decided not to play online multiplayer games at all. I’ll explain the reasons for this later. Before that, I want to briefly put into words my definition of the terms “online multiplayer games” and “single-player games” as used in this article.
First, an online multiplayer game requires an internet connection. Furthermore, it is defined as:
“A game where the experience generated by connecting with other players and competing or cooperating with them constitutes the majority of the work’s value.”
On the other hand, single-player games may also require an internet connection, but this is only for purposes like updating the game version or anti-piracy measures. The core value of the game does not lie in connecting with other players. The core value lies in the experience the player gains by experiencing the world and in-game space presented by the creators.
Why online multiplayer games feel like “Work”
Based on the above, why have I, as someone with a developmental disability, decided not to play online multiplayer games? I’ll put my thoughts into words.
What does gaming mean to me?
What value do I find in games?
Why do I spend my time on them?
Throughout my life, gaming has been recognized by me as
“a space where I converse with the creator through the world they built, sometimes clashing with it, and ultimately confronting myself.”
This approach to engaging with works isn’t limited to games alone. Whether it’s novels or movies, this stance remains unchanged. I engage with works to have a dialogue within a “space shared only by the creator and myself.”
To digress slightly, there are also works that don’t fully fit the definition of “online multiplayer games” established at the beginning. To be specific, these are works created as “single-player games” but which include features enabling players to cooperate with or compete against each other as one element. When I play such games, the first thing I do is turn off all these features. To me, these functions feel as unnatural as an abnormal situation where “you’re reading a novel alone in your room, and suddenly a stranger bursts in, shouting enthusiastically, ‘Oh! That scene’s great! I love it too!’”
Back to the point. The biggest reason I’ve decided not to play online games, to put it simply, is that I feel a strong sense of discomfort with the very structure of online games:
“I play games to confront myself, yet I’m forced to interact with others even within the game itself.”
As I gather information from various sources, I sense a significant number of people feel exhausted by the “human relationships in online multiplayer games.” Summarizing these experiences, it seems that games, which should be enjoyable, gradually become dominated by an atmosphere like this:
“Winning is the only thing that matters,”
“Those who find the optimal solution to win are the most skilled,”
“Clearing the game the fastest is supreme.”
What follows is the formation of a hierarchy where those who can make the most cost-effective decisions and actions to win are elevated to the top. A circle of followers emerges to support these leaders. Whether explicitly stated or not, rules are established. Those who don’t follow these rules, or who fail to read the subtle “atmosphere” and act accordingly, face cold treatment, sometimes condemnation, and exclusion from other players within this hierarchical structure.
To me, the space created by online games appears both a miniature of human existence and a microcosm of humanity’s historical timeline.
Moreover, I feel that the character of the space created by this structure has become remarkably akin to the “work” performed by modern “collectives.”
For example, imagine a startup company that began with ideals like “Let’s all do something fun. Let’s spread joy around the world.” After one year, then two, then five years have passed, those founding ideals are completely lost. Most of the founding members have left the company, internal politics have already begun to take root, numerous frictions and conflicts have arisen, and monsters that drive the company further from success are summoned daily. The CEO, one of the few who still holds on, spends their days bowing to banks and clients. And they chant daily, like a mantra—whether to motivate themselves, to refute others, or perhaps as a curse—the same refrain that has likely been repeated in almost identical tones throughout history: “Survival isn’t easy.”
Paintings depicting landscapes centered on themes such as “groups,” “labor,” and “transformation” are too numerous to list.
In any case, this is how I perceive the space of online multiplayer games.
One more thing to put into words: I also see a clear structure within the spaces created by these online multiplayer games for selecting and excluding people based on communication skills and the ability to “read the room.” This might be an unavoidable limitation of any place where humans gather.
I don’t think online multiplayer games should disappear.
I don’t want you to misunderstand me—I don’t hate online multiplayer games, nor do I think “online multiplayer games should just disappear from the world.”
I’ve never been in a game development role myself, so what follows is purely speculation, but I believe online multiplayer games have a structure that makes it easier to maintain higher profit margins compared to single-player games.
Single-player games are fundamentally “one-time purchases.” After generating profits at launch, it’s generally difficult to generate additional revenue without releasing DLC (downloadable content) or creating sequels. Naturally, these efforts typically require significant costs, posing risks for developers.
Online multiplayer games, on the other hand, possess a structure that facilitates achieving the “continuous and stable revenue” coveted by companies across all industries, not just gaming. This is because it’s not a one-time sale. Naturally, it’s not a sweet world where “online multiplayer games are easier to monetize than offline games.” It’s important to note that online multiplayer games require initial investment costs for servers, operational staff, and more.
However, even considering these prerequisites, I believe online multiplayer games possess a decisive difference:
- Status-seeking
- Cooperation
- Competition
- Desire for approval
By leveraging the relationships between the people present, it becomes possible to extend playtime and prolong the consumption time of the work.
- I won’t be satisfied until I beat that guy
- I want that person to recognize me
- I want to show that I am a capable person
I believe online multiplayer games have this structure where users spontaneously create and distribute content on YouTube, and share their experiences in words on social media—all without the creators having to produce it themselves. This structure increases resources for the creators. I think this is an incredibly powerful structure for achieving high profit margins in business.
These feelings exist within everyone.
That’s precisely why this structure is so strong.
However, as someone with developmental disabilities, I find it difficult to remain in such spaces. Within them, I become very easily drained.
Given this background, I don’t deny that game creators should profit from online multiplayer games. I hope they invest the funds earned from online multiplayer games into single-player games and release masterpieces into the world.
Media and Games
In the Japanese media, especially traditional media, I feel there are quite a few arguments that lump single-player games and online multiplayer games together under the single label of “games,” as I’ve been discussing. Needless to say, I find this labeling somewhat crude.
I also believe that if we look at things with higher resolution, there are situations where we cannot simply lump everything together as “online multiplayer games.” This stems from differences in the underlying philosophy and revenue structures of the works themselves.
To be specific, some works are built around revenue structures that seem to prioritize profit above all else, effectively making in-game purchases practically mandatory to fully enjoy the experience. These are often negatively labeled as “pay-to-win games” or similar terms. On the other hand, I’ve seen titles where you can experience the bulk of the work’s value without spending a dime. Yet, I sometimes see these mixed together and reported as simply “games,” which feels chaotic.
One could argue this stems from media viewing all games as competitors vying for users’ (consumers’) time, making such reporting a reasonable strategy from their perspective.
However, as someone who loves games, I genuinely feel disappointed whenever I see online multiplayer games and single-player games being crudely lumped together, and games discussed in contexts like “game addiction” or “game dependency” based on that premise.
If anyone reading the words I leave behind here encounters such reporting and gains even a little motivation to scrutinize the information with greater resolution, I’ll be satisfied.
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