Notebook: My Cup of Coffee in Games Journalism

Back in 2019, I found myself in an interesting position. I was asked if I would consider writing evergreen articles about gaming hardware for a new gaming news startup. Because I write under a pen name, I won’t divulge the name of the site or the podcasts I eventually ended up running, but if you want to sleuth, it probably won’t be impossible to figure out once I’m done sharing this story.

I agreed and started pumping out articles about cloud computing, how to clean your gaming computer, which performance metrics actually mattered in a GPU, how to overclock your CPU, and so on.

The position was unpaid, but there was an opportunity to earn money if your articles hit certain readership metrics. I was okay with that arrangement because I was the Hardware Writer, and those articles, based on my research, tended to perform well over the long term.

As the site grew, I found myself being asked to do more and more. Eventually, I was named Head Writer. With the new title and responsibilities came a better pay structure. I was paid per word, with additional incentives when articles passed certain readership numbers.

Our bullpen grew, and I spent more and more time providing editorial feedback to new writers. I spent less time writing articles and more time mentoring. Then the owner of the website instituted a rule that, to be considered “on staff,” you had to publish a minimum of five articles a week.

This side hobby was starting to become a job.

I was honest with the owner about where I was in life. I wasn’t going to be able to write five high-quality articles a week, coordinate with game studios and hardware companies, provide feedback to a growing stable of writers, tune our SEO, and run two weekly podcasts for the peanuts I was being paid.

I was moved over to Head of Digital Content. My role became focused on producing two podcasts a week and helping the other writers better promote the site. I was also free to turn in whatever articles I wanted, on whatever subjects interested me, under the same pay arrangement as before.

My last act as Head Writer, before switching to Head of Digital Content, was attending PAX East. My feet hurt, but I generated more content and made more connections in those four days than I had at any other point during my time with the website.

This was 2020, so the world shut down shortly afterward. Gaming exploded as people were forced indoors, and our website grew month after month.

Unfortunately, because of how the payment incentives worked, I watched in horror as the quality dropped along the way. We forced clickbait into headlines and published sensationalist retellings of benign events in the games industry. Guides became the topic of choice for many writers because they performed well and had a long tail.

My passion for games journalism collapsed during this period. The more it became a business, the more I saw the dark parts of it.

I didn’t want to let the team down, even though I was only working nights and weekends, so I went full tilt trying to grow the podcasts. One of them, which focused on sim racing, gained a ton of traction as that particular hobby exploded during the pandemic.

For anyone who doesn’t know, sim racing is virtual racing using software and hardware designed to closely mimic actual driving. We’re talking pedals that require fifty pounds of force to depress, VR headsets, and direct-drive wheels that can break your wrists with their torque.

I fucking loved the hobby, and it was a blast to wax poetic about it every week.

Toward the end of 2020 or beginning of 2021, I hated what the website had become. My good friend and co-host on the non-sim-racing podcast was fed up with the high demands, low pay, and even lower viewership.

I decided to leave.

It was all on good terms. I told the owner and the writers’ room that what we were putting out no longer aligned with the kind of work I wanted to produce. For the time commitment, it simply didn’t pay enough.

Around the same time, another group of more senior writers spun off and started their own website. They did quite well for themselves, eventually surpassing the original site in readership and managing to practice independent games journalism full-time.

For a while, at least. They shut down about two years ago.

After leaving, I was recruited to write pro rata for a sim-racing website. The owner, a professional race car driver, was building a sim-racing league and community. He wanted someone who could take his considerable technical knowledge and turn it into digestible content. As someone who had written for a gaming website and was already deep into the hobby, I fit the bill.

I did that for a little while before realizing that what I was doing was essentially ghostwriting. I didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as following my own curiosity.

And there, in the span of just over two years, my time as a games writer and journalist was over.

Why am I telling you this story?

Mostly because I find myself alluding to this part of my background often enough that it made sense to finally put pen to paper and get it out there.

I also think about this period whenever I read about games journalism outlets getting absolutely raided. Journalists are laid off to boost shareholder value, leaving behind an industry full of underpaid and overworked survivors. And those are the people with the “stable” jobs.

What about the people who get laid off and are forced to freelance in a market with fewer and fewer opportunities?

It sucks.

I guess, if there is a point to this post beyond telling you a story about my past, it is a call to action: support the people doing the damn thing.

Find a freelancer you like in the industry? Subscribe to their newsletter. Read their work. Repost their links.

Enjoy an independently run news website? Sign up for the paid tier.

Times are tough. I get it. I have to buy groceries too. But there are free and inexpensive ways to help make sure a healthy games journalism ecosystem survives.

If you don’t think things are that dire, go read Rascal’s latest State of the Rascal. These are people doing good work while slowly but surely losing their ability to both keep their site running and eat.

That’s insane.

Anyway, that’s all I have for today. As always, thank you for trusting me with your time, and thank you for reading my words.