This morning Kotaku EiC (former now) Jen Glennon announced she was departing from the site. Following this announcement, Aftermath published a report stating that this arose out of disagreement with an editorial edict from G/O Media executives (including Jim Spanfeller) that the site pivot to guide writings with the expectation that writers produce an astonishingly impossible 50 guides a week.
Little know fact about me but I used to work there! Who knew? So I have thoughts on the matter. Really, the whole situation is stupid. It might suffice to say Spanfeller is an idiot.
instead, I simply wanna mourn. maybe not for the site as it is now but for what it was to me and the growth it brought me. the work was a bitch, it shaved years off my life. but I do have affection for the site. I do have pride in my work. and while Kotaku is not officially dead, I think this is my chance to say goodbye...
I'm not gonna break down the history of Kotaku so if you don't have the context, sorry 'bout that. i worked there from 2016 to the middle of 2020. I liked the work. it was not easy and it led to a lot of stress. the site was not always well managed and folks did not always get along. but I grew a lot there. I'm proud of my work. I've never really written about my time there. professionalism pushed me away from that. perhaps it'd be better if I said nothing now. but this shift towards guide writing and the potential shift it signals into AI-fueled content gruel gives me cause to speak.
I was technically around for the last days of Gawker. I was around when the deadspin walkout happened. i left the site because I saw a horrible future under Spanfeller's management. and now we're here. people might have mixed thoughts about Kotaku. All I know is that I tried to be a good writer and good person while I was there, and for a while I think I might've managed it.
Kotaku still exists as of the time of my writing this. at least on paper. it has a staff that's publishing stuff. you can still search the site. it's there. but it also isn't. it's in a superposition. alive but dead. I daresay this is the bell ringing. and because my job requires me to be on social media, I'm seeing the takes. it's like staring into the sun and I feel I gotta say something. because I think Kotaku was, at times, a very good website.
I've done my best as I've gotten older to try to disavow myself from anger in my day to day life. Not sure if I've been too successful at that but I simply don't see the point in getting mad at petty things. Video games are, in many ways, petty things. yes, they are art. but let's be honest about things too. we're not always releasing Rembrandts.
In parting from Kotaku I wrote:
"Criticism understands that most of the games we play and movies we watch are not world-shaking. They are not toppling regimes, redefining our understanding of art, or creating spiritual movements. It cares if a thing is “good” or “bad” or “important” only insofar as it can understand what it is doing to earn those qualities."
I stand by this and I think this is my major point of divergence with Gamers. By which I mean the forumites, the yellers, the Redditors, and the Console Warriors. you know, the weirdos being weird about all this stuff today. Games matter but they do not matter more than the world around us. They can help us understand the world and even understand ourselves but they cannot be the most important things in our life. When I look at the most outrage-fueled Gamers, including those who have credibly threatened me, my heart fills with pity more than anger. What must it be like to "care" about something so small when the world is so big? It seems awful. They live in Hell and they made it for themselves.
That said I'm writing as a hypocrite. As I watch slews of Gamers sneer at Kotaku's potential demise, I actually get do very angry. I have to pause and stop myself from tweeting in anger or speaking in anger in response to their giddiness and cries of "Get Woke, Go Broke." There is a proud reflex in me that can't help but defend Kotaku. Because through all the fire and pain and drama, I did become a better writer there and that crucible, which was both fun and harrowing in equal measure, kept my mind sharp. .
Fuck those guys. Seriously man like... they suck soooOOooo much?
Then I pause. What is the point? Because those people never cared to care about anything meaningfully in their lives. Besides: they never read the site to begin with. It doesn't matter if I maintained good relationships with developers and fandoms. (hell most publishers liked me and I was not some milquetoast cheerleader of all games. I hated some stuff! loudly!) It doesn't matter that I tried to view things from many angles and even accepted the weaknesses in some of my criticism when they were pointed out. It doesn't matter that I held on to a sense of empathy. They never read it. They don't know me and they don't even go to this school. The people who did seem to think I did an okay job. I'll never be able to convince myself that it was a Good Enough job but I've at least come to accept that I think I was "decent" at what I did. That's what matters in the end
(editor's note: I fired a shot at a dev who was being kinda weird about all this. someone who I've had plenty of good conversations with. someone I've shaken hands with so like... were all those moments for nothing if he's cheering all this stuff on? was my work and my effort to be professional meaningful? who can say! I at least get to ask "What The Hell Bud")
I've spoken about the major failures though not always in explicit detail and there were some big failings! I think, in terms of critical language, I was part of a group of writers that mostly armed fandoms and burgeoning leftists with terms they now use to cudgel those they think are not ideologically pure enough. I've been public, perhaps not to the extent I should have been, about certain journalistic failings at the site. I remain convinced that our most public failing—the reporting of Nathalie Lawhead's allegations of sexual misconduct against Jeremy Soule—was mishandled in a way that did harm to the accusers. There were other issues along the way and I hope that people have felt I've been honest and open about these. Kotaku was not a perfect place. I've never pretended it was.
but people visited daily. they didn't come for guides. I've seen the numbers! if the reporting was good or the critical angle was right, it showed on Chartbeat. this isn't some "We Gotta Rebuild Giambi In The Aggregate" deal. you can't moneyball this. you either have that shit or you don't. 5 millions guides and SEO optimized fodder can't compare.
It was certainly not a perfect place to work although I've never been interested in writing a lengthy exposé on the matter and will not be doing so here. I think resources were not fairly distributed; star reporters were given a level of support that the rest of the staff did not enjoy. it should not surprise anyone that many of the neglected reporters were marginalized folks. black writers and editors, in particular, never received equitable treatment. it's among my deepest regrets that I was not aware enough at the time to speak out against this more often though I sometimes did. but sometimes is not enough and that personal failure is one that don't know i can ever make right. I think our editorial voice struggled to throw necessary punches in a time when that was starting to become essential.
In spite of the carefree Gawker lineage, there was a streak of j-school populism that I think poorly served the audience heading into the mid-2010s and early 2020s. We needed more bite and while I do believe in the importance of being exhaustive in reportage and covering different perspectives, it's also fine to give folks the rope to hang themselves. Not every position is equal and the job of the press cannot be to simply report that "People Have Thoughts" on something. It needs to provide context and very often it needs to point fingers at problems. We were good about that when it came to matters of labor. Jason's the best in the biz for a reason. We stumbled when it came to culture. Coming out of the shadow of GamerGate, I think it took far too long to throw elbows again and by the time it started Spanfeller's roots were in the ground. That fuckin' herb.
This is not to say I've agreed with the site's shifting editorial voice over the years. I think that Kotaku started to become very mean in a way that was off-putting to the audiences it needed to win over the most. Spanfeller is the chief culprit of Kotaku's demise but in trying to assert itself in the throes of his choking grip, the site changed into something that I had personal issues with. It felt like it was punching down sometimes and at risk of offense to those involved I often wondered if my work suffered by association. Many friends in my life, personal and those on the internet, who knew what I did before Double Fine started to excoriate Kotaku and unlike the Gamers I mentioned above I don't think that came from a place of bad faith. The headlines courted controversy with more obvious abandon. Things were published without consideration for the professional fallout. The vibe was "Hell yeah! We've got the spice!" clap clap clap and it sometimes felt like they didn't care what harm that did to the site's reputation.
I'm cautious admitting that because I risk sounding like the Old Man Yelling At Clouds. Maybe sometimes it did have the spice but we could all stand to internalize the value of Shut The Fuck Up Friday. Sometimes, even if you do the work, you gotta just let the piece be the thing by itself. y'know? please, please stop tweeting. don't don't tweet. oh god
This is a professional criticism and I understand it might not win me any friends. I know because I've offered professional criticisms before and lost friends. Suffice it to say I don't have any animosity for those who remain at Kotaku or the new voices that joined in hopes of finding some kind of job stability in a field they love. you gotta eat. I simply didn't quite like where it led. I've reconciled and reconnected with many of my old coworkers over the years after speaking out about certain disagreements and issues. My taking time to express disappointment with Kotaku's shifting tone should not be seen as any kind of validating vote in favor of its death. it doesn't deserve this shit. these writers deserve better
That's because Spanfeller's vision of the site—an SEO addled haven for cheap pieces built on the back of exhausted workers who will probably be replaced by AI—is a deeply offensive notion to me. Games Press folks can be overly self-important about their position as journalists but they are still journalists and they serve a specific function. Every blow to the ability of the press to investigate labor or analyze art is one which threatens the entire enterprise of game-making. Devs are very talented people but like many journalists they're not always able to look at their work without affect. The press doesn't just inform the public about Happenings; it helps keep folks honest about what they're doing. As someone who works in studio marketing and communications, I don't want the press to be fully supplanted by studio-backed outreach and a slew of influencers. The ecosystem requires everyone.
That said I admit that there's a part of me glad to be given reason to let go of all this shit. For nearly five years now I've held on to a scream I've never let out. This is the release. I've gathered the writings I think are decent or have sentimental value and archived them. I'm gonna leave it at that. Hell, I dunno if this is a scream. I'm not angry at anyone. Not in the way that some people were in their various departures from Kotaku and the (necessary) writings they penned about their experiences. When I consider what I got to do even accepting the stress of those years I remain grateful. At least it was never boring.
That we've reached this point sucks. The factors that have led us to this point sucks. The internet mostly sucks. Many, many things are falling apart. But here we are. When I say "it's okay" I mean that for no one but myself. Because it's not okay that this is happening. It is okay that I'm allowing myself to let go of something. It was a wild ride but that was years ago. it's okay. Deadspin died years ago. I suppose Kotaku died in my heart some time ago too. This is just a chance to mourn. I like what I did. I miss it often. But it can't come back.
so, like some type of paper crane on the water, I let you go. I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. but this wasn't it.
