I currently find it very hard to discuss and imagine the future of games, and I want to explain why that might be. In this day and age, when we talk about play and games, we tend to have in mind digital experiences that we most often consume through some kind of device. To be fair, that is how most of us experience games these days—but if we want to look into the future, we have to think a little about what games really are, and what purposes they serve for us.
Let’s start where we are right now. Around two years ago, I listened to Are Mack Growen, of the venture capital firm London Venture Partners, as he dissected the reasons for diminishing growth in the games industry. His explanation boiled down to saturation: not enough new platforms are surviving to spur growth. Not too long ago, we would constantly have new console platforms, new storefronts and phones hitting the market; every incarnation of these platforms was new tech that needed new games. Think of smartphones with touch screens, for instance, which could be used to play simple games on the go: this new platform led to the creation of one of the biggest successes in Swedish game development history, Candy Crush Saga. There are many other examples from history, but that kind of explosive development is not what we see today.
Creation on speed
It’s easy to create content these days, and the quick growth of AI-powered tools keeps increasing the speed with which media can be created. The algorithm-driven social media and game platforms are therefore already oversaturated, meaning it’s very hard for content producers (including game developers) to get their works noticed among the noise. What is shown to a user is based on what the algorithm selects to promote. We game developers are therefore always crunching numbers, tinkering with small pieces of data, refining nuances in our games to make them fit as well as possible with the current version of the algorithm. Now generative AI is also in the mix, and use of these technologies increases, we risk creating a feedback loop, in which new layers of complexity are added to handle the current ones. Consider, for example, the short-form drama series that are popular on Chinese social media, which mimic live-action series, but are increasingly being produced through generative AI. The “actors” (seemingly) playing the roles in those series are gaining such popularity that there is a demand for following them on social media as if they were real celebrities, with the result that fake “everyday” scenes need to be created to keep the audience’s attention.
On a much larger scale—but for similar reasons—we are seeing international polarisation and tension causing the political systems themselves to stagnate, and to be taken over by technology firms with the reach and riches of nations, but with no obligation to people what-so-ever, leading to a decrease in the belief in democratic systems and values.
We’re living in societies of spiralling complexity, on a planet of finite resources. You might think that knowing resources are finite might lead us to take a step back to decrease complexity—but on a collective level, that’s not how the human race (or any other species, for that matter) actually works.
Constant growth challenged
The notion of perpetual development and growth is ingrained in our ways of thinking about the world; up until very recently, we’ve lived in a paradigm of non-stop expansion. It may have been at its peak right before the global financial crisis of 2008, when we still believed that our new digital platforms would nurture communication, creation and democracy. Then we saw some of those promises falling short, and even turning in the opposite direction.
At the turn of the millennium, and for a decade or so afterwards, new platforms were constantly being launched, and the game industry was growing at a rapid pace. We could easily extrapolate from there and see a future where further growth was inevitable. The games themselves evolved just as rapidly as the platforms they ran on, which gave us game developers the sensation of having superhuman powers. We would soon be living in virtual worlds, and we’d be freed of the shackles of production! New technology would reduce our workload, and allow us humans to shift our focus to recreation—to playing games and telling stories, maybe.
The Ecomodernist Manifesto1 from 2015 claimed that advanced technologies would grant us the power to decouple human well-being from resource use, which meant that economic growth would be possible without the negative ecological impact. I bet there are still people who believe this, but I am not one of them—because futures that are void of resources cannot exist. Living beyond the physical boundaries of our existence is not possible. We are beings with bodies of flesh and blood; our intelligence dwells in our cells. Our consciousness stems from wet material and chemical reactions; it cannot be translated into something digital.
A virtual fever dream
When we think about the future of games, therefore, we have to think about the future of humanity—because games are just one aspect of human life and culture. Games and play are not separate from the human condition; they are integral parts of what it means to be human. Play is a human need. Much as with many other species, if humans are denied play, they get depressed. We need play in order to function; it’s what we do to develop, to learn, to co-exist and to feel free. In its purest form, play has nothing to do with digital experiences or product development.
Our societies have invested a lot of hopes and dreams into the digital and virtual, in the hope that they will set us free. It’s easy to see that worldview reflected in the discussions around generative AI: we can envision a world where anything we can dream up could be created instantly, where we could let our minds become as vivid and free as they are when we dream. This is a powerful allure—what if we could be free of the limitations of our human bodies, from our need for physical things like water, food and shelter?
Maybe that is why so many ideas about the future go in that direction, toward a world where everything we wish for can be manifested and created by our minds alone. You know how dreams can change in a moment? At first, you’re in one particular setting, and then it suddenly changes into somewhere completely different. Interacting with an LLM-based tool reminds me of this experience, and generative AI can surely be used to power our individual fantasies. What if I could just create the perfect game for me, a game that I could play with my perfectly tailored partner, both changing at my slightest whim and demand? It feels like a fever dream.
For me, generative AI speaks directly to that dream of existing outside of our bodies, the dream of endless possibilities. If only we could gather the explosive energy from the sun, collect all the raw materials from other planets, and live in never-ending prosperity! Oh, how we wish to keep living in that space of total convenience—so much so that we keep denying that human (and artificial) intelligence can only go so far, and that resources are, in fact, finite.
Overcoming unnecessary obstacles
What has this got to do with games, then? In his 1978 book The Grasshopper: Games, Life and Utopia, the philosopher Bernard Suits says that “playing a game is the voluntary attempt to overcome unnecessary obstacles”. He means that, in order to play a game, you need a mindset called the lusory attitude, which includes accepting arbitrary rules in order for the game to exist. To illustrate, Suits says that if you’d like to get to the top of a mountain, the most efficient way would be to take a helicopter; but if you instead insist on hiking up, because the rules of the challenge say you must not use a machine, then you are playing a game.
This makes me think of a trend called “friction-maxxing” that was much discussed earlier this year. Google’s AI tells me that friction-maxxing is a lifestyle trend based on intentionally choosing less comfortable options when performing an activity, in order to combat the numbing effects of the convenience offered by the (digital) services of today. Examples might include walking instead of taking a ride-share, or cooking instead of ordering takeout. The idea is that increasing the friction would make life feel more meaningful.
Using Suits’ line of thinking, friction-maxxing is a game. We use games to handle reality, to play with possibilities. When we tell stories, we start from the notion “what if…”, and continue from there. The same can be said of creating rules for play, the rules that come to form games. What if I’m not allowed to take the bus to work? Then I must walk. What if I’m not allowed to watch movies on the trip? Then I must think for myself, and write reflections in a notebook. Coming up with unnecessary obstacles and then overcoming them gives us a small and instant gratification.
But we also use “what if” to think about the future. If we didn’t have access to electricity any longer, how would we pass the time? Probably, we’d make up a game—because anyone and everyone can do it, just as anyone can hum a tune. We need nothing more than our bodies, and maybe some simple items, to create a game. Games are within us, and can be used just to pass the time—but they can also be used as tools for envisioning.
The games we play at the end of the world might not be as elaborate as the ones we can experience at the height of civilization, but they will be just as meaningful. As human beings we will always seek meaning in the harshest of times, and we will always be looking ahead—because we are blessed with imagination, and the urge to play.
Becoming playful
So, what exactly do we need in these challenging times? Can games somehow be of help? When the structures we ourselves have created seem to be taking over the human condition, we need to become more playful; we need to dare to go beyond what’s expected. We used to say “think outside the box”, but maybe it’s time to change that expression into “think outside of the algorithm”.
As game creators, we need to look beyond putting all our energy into tweaking tiny nuances, trying to catch the Steam algorithm on a happy day, instead lifting our gazes to create what’s truly new. We are all responsible for shaping the human community, and what I see as a desirable future is one dictated by human values with the goal of providing good for human beings. Not for machines, not for financial systems or corporations—for living beings.
Being a game developer in this situation, experiencing stagnation and rapid change at the same time, I think the only way to move is towards what’s genuine. There might be something interesting coming as a result from the oversaturation of generic content: a need for authenticity. I like the idea of small development units that can move quickly, conveying something unique—because if you’re put on this earth to express something, it might as well be that which only you can do.
We may know very little about the future, but we know there are rocks that have been polished soft by the sea for thousands of years, and we know we can use them to play. We can look into the night sky and count the stars, and start drawing up pictures and stories based on the constellations. Technologies come and go, but games and play will be with us forever. We should make games for ourselves, bravely and unapologetically.
BOBBI A SAND is a game designer and author who loves playfulness, and to tell stories about relationships and what it means to be human. They run the indie studio Transcenders Media, which released the award-winning visual novel Knife Sisters in 2019 and Truer than You in 2025. Bobbi also works for the game industry associations Game Habitat and Dataspelscentrum.
