2007 – a year of promises fulfilled

The major gaming stories of the year

In the short history of video games there have been plenty of landmark years. In 1972 Pong astounded the public, paving the way for a new form of entertainment. A decade later the young industry explosion seemed perilous, following the great video game crash of 1983. Then, in 1994, Sony took the market by storm by launching the PlayStation, and in 2007.

Well, certainly for many, it was a year to remember. It was the year when the gaming industry finally looked set to fulfil its promise, taking its chance to reach into the mainstream and grab the imagination of the public.

A year of numbers

Above all, it was a year of numbers. December saw news of a record-breaking $19bn merger between two of the biggest names in gaming: Blizzard and Activision. Blizzard's biggest game, the online fantasy World of Warcraft, passed the nine million subscribers mark, and the entire games industry was valued at in excess of $30bn.

However, it was Sony that started the number-crunching trend when it finally released its flagship PlayStation 3 console in March. The machine entered the record books by selling 165,000 units in the UK in two days. It breathed life back into the Japanese electronics giant, which had taken a beating the previous Christmas from its rivals.

The PlayStation might have made its mark in the battle for gamers' affections, but the tussle was far from over. After all, Microsoft had an ace up its sleeve: Halo 3.

The latest instalment in the massively popular franchise laid waste to all before it when it hit the shelves in September. On paper, the game seems unremarkable - a standard shooter tied together with a typical alien warfare storyline. But the game's killer combination - fantastic graphics and multiplayer online gaming - has turned Halo into more than just a great title: it is a genuine pop-culture phenomenon.

Sales making history

That status was underscored when it racked up $170m of sales on its first day in the US, making it the highest grossing first day in entertainment history - even outstripping Hollywood blockbusters like Spider-Man and Pirates of the Caribbean.

In Britain, gamers picked up nearly half a million copies in just a few days, handing over more than £20m to Microsoft in the process (this was a welcome fillip for the Seattle corporation, which has seen little profit from its massive investment in gaming).

"It's far too early to say what the financial return will be for our investment," Microsoft's Shane Kim told the BBC at the launch. "But if we can't make a profit in the year Halo 3 comes out, then when will we?"

That optimism was in sharp contrast to another major event of the year - and one that will stick in the minds of many: the banning of Manhunt 2, Rockstar Games' controversial slasher sequel.

When the game came before the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) in June, it was refused a certificate and criticised for encouraging "casual sadism". As a result, it became the first game to be banned in Britain for a decade - and, with elements that the censors described as "sadistic, brutal and bleak", the headlines simply wrote themselves.

The controversy was not just in the media, however. Arguments were stirred up inside the industry as well. Some felt that the ban was an inevitable consequence of Rockstar's desire to court controversy as a marketing opportunity (Rob Fahey, columnist with website Gamesindustry.biz, summed it up by saying "Rockstar has crossed the line - and crossed it at a full-tilt run").

Others thought that the gratuitous violence was fair enough, given that it was in a title that was clearly aimed at adults, and plenty of supporters pointed out that some of the most gruesome Hollywood movies have been given certificates.

This plurality of views is likely to be reflected in a forthcoming government review of games and the internet, which became another talking point when it was announced in the autumn. The investigation is set to look at the effects of these new media on children, and will report back next spring. While at first the news was treated with scepticism (after all Tanya Byron, who is leading the investigation, is best known as a TV psychologist) it became clear that she was not merely going to rubberstamp the tabloid line that games are a malicious influence.

"Children seem to know quite a lot more than we think they do, and they know a lot about the technologies that they're using," she told the Observer in an interview. "For different kids, particularly kids with learning difficulties, these technologies have transformed their learning and enthused them to learn." (See page 22 for Tanya Byron's article on the government review.)

The return of Nintendo

While controversy was a persistent theme for the industry, the real story of 2007 was far more wholesome. Nintendo's return to peak form has to be the landmark trend of the past 12 months, not only shaking up the industry but also helping the whole gaming fraternity to break into new territory. Nintendo's decision to take a chance on its own quirky vision of the future - far removed from the high-powered, realistic graphics favoured by its competitors - seemed like it might backfire. But, in fact, it is paying off in spades.

The company's charge to the top of the charts was led by the Wii, released last Christmas and still in huge demand thanks to its innovative controller and unashamed emphasis on fun. The combination of classic franchises such as Mario and family-oriented titles like Wii Sports (which swept the board at this year's awards ceremonies) has proved irresistible with the public.

DS makes further inroads

And while the Wii emerged top dog against the PlayStation 3 and the Xbox 360, the diminutive DS handheld also made further inroads. This son-of-Gameboy is now in the hands of more than four million people around Britain, and thanks to games like Brain Training it has reached to new generations and crossed into the mainstream.

All these factors (the return of Nintendo, Sony's big sell and Microsoft's record-breaking games) not only sum up a massively successful year for the games industry, but could also give an indication of where the future lies.

While there may be a growing divide in the gaming world - between hardcore gamers who relish their powerful technology and those who spend their time playing accessible, casual titles - success in one field no longer precludes it in the other. While in previous years the two worlds were mutually exclusive, both forks are now bigger, better and more popular than ever before. The legacy of 2007 is yet to be determined - but if the past year proves anything, it is that we are no longer playing a zero-sum game.

Bobbie Johnson is technology correspondent for the Guardian

This article first appeared in the 17 December 2007 issue of the New Statesman, Christmas and New Year special 2007

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The age of loneliness

Profound changes in technology, work and community are transforming our ultrasocial species into a population of loners.

Our dominant ideology is based on a lie. A series of lies, in fact, but I’ll focus on just one. This is the claim that we are, above all else, self-interested – that we seek to enhance our own wealth and power with little regard for the impact on others.

Some economists use a term to describe this presumed state of being – Homo economicus, or self-maximising man. The concept was formulated, by J S Mill and others, as a thought experiment. Soon it became a modelling tool. Then it became an ideal. Then it evolved into a description of who we really are.

It could not be further from the truth. To study human behaviour is to become aware of how weird we are. Many species will go to great lengths to help and protect their close kin. One or two will show occasional altruism towards unrelated members of their kind. But no species possesses a capacity for general altruism that is anywhere close to our own.

With the possible exception of naked mole-rats, we have the most social minds of all mammals. These minds evolved as an essential means of survival. Slow, weak, armed with rounded teeth and flimsy nails in a world of fangs and claws and horns and tusks, we survived through co-operation, reciprocity and mutual defence, all of which developed to a remarkable degree.

A review paper in the journal Frontiers in Psychology observes that Homo economicus  might be a reasonable description of chimpanzees. “Outsiders . . . would not expect to receive offers of food or solicitude; rather, they would be fiercely attacked . . . food is shared only under harassment; even mothers will not voluntarily offer novel foods to their own infants unless the infants beg for them.” But it is an unreasonable description of human beings.

How many of your friends, colleagues and neighbours behave like chimpanzees? A few, perhaps. If so, are they respected or reviled? Some people do appear to act as if they have no interests but their own – Philip Green and Mike Ashley strike me as possible examples – but their behaviour ­attracts general revulsion. The news is filled with spectacular instances of human viciousness: although psychopaths are rare, their deeds fill the papers. Daily acts of kindness are seldom reported, because they are everywhere.

Every day, I see people helping others with luggage, offering to cede their place in a queue, giving money to the homeless, setting aside time for others, volunteering for causes that offer no material reward. Alongside these quotidian instances are extreme and stunning cases. I think of my Dutch mother-in-law, whose family took in a six-year-old Jewish boy – a stranger – and hid him in their house for two years during the German occupation of the Netherlands. Had he been discovered, they would all have been sent to a concentration camp.

Studies suggest that altruistic tendencies are innate: from the age of 14 months, children try to help each other, attempting to hand over objects another child can’t reach. At the age of two, they start to share valued possessions. By the time they are three, they begin to protest against other people’s violation of moral norms.

Perhaps because we are told by the media, think tanks and politicians that competition and self-interest are the defining norms of human life, we disastrously mischaracterise the way in which other people behave. A survey commissioned by the Common Cause Foundation reported that 78 per cent of respondents believe others to be more selfish than they really are.

I do not wish to suggest that this mythology of selfishness is the sole or even principal cause of the epidemic of loneliness now sweeping the world. But it is likely to contribute to the plague by breeding suspicion and a sense of threat. It also appears to provide a doctrine of justification for those afflicted by isolation, a doctrine that sees individualism as a higher state of existence than community. Perhaps it is hardly surprising that Britain, the European nation in which neoliberalism is most advanced, is, according to government figures, the loneliness capital of Europe.

There are several possible reasons for the atomisation now suffered by the supremely social mammal. Work, which used to bring us together, now disperses us: many people have neither fixed workplaces nor regular colleagues and regular hours. Our leisure time has undergone a similar transformation: cinema replaced by television, sport by computer games, time with friends by time on Facebook.

Social media seems to cut both ways: it brings us together and sets us apart. It helps us to stay in touch, but also cultivates a tendency that surely enhances other people’s sense of isolation: a determination to persuade your followers that you’re having a great time. FOMO – fear of missing out – seems, at least in my mind, to be closely ­associated with loneliness.

Children’s lives in particular have been transformed: since the 1970s, their unaccompanied home range (in other words, the area they roam without adult supervision) has declined in Britain by almost 90 per cent. Not only does this remove them from contact with the natural world, but it limits their contact with other children. When kids played out on the street or in the woods, they quickly formed their own tribes, learning the social skills that would see them through life.

An ageing population, family and community breakdown, the decline of institutions such as churches and trade unions, the switch from public transport to private, inequality, an alienating ethic of consumerism, the loss of common purpose: all these are likely to contribute to one of the most dangerous epidemics of our time.

Yes, I do mean dangerous. The stress response triggered by loneliness raises blood pressure and impairs the immune system. Loneliness enhances the risk of depression, paranoia, addiction, cognitive decline, dem­entia, heart disease, stroke, viral infection, accidents and suicide. It is as potent a cause of early death as smoking 15 cigarettes a day, and can be twice as deadly as obesity.

Perhaps because we are in thrall to the ideology that helps to cause the problem, we turn to the market to try to solve it. Over the past few weeks, the discovery of a new American profession, the people-walker (taking human beings for walks), has caused a small sensation in the media. In Japan there is a fully fledged market for friendship: you can hire friends by the hour with whom to chat and eat and watch TV; or, more disturbingly, to pose for pictures that you can post on social media. They are rented as mourners at funerals and guests at weddings. A recent article describes how a fake friend was used to replace a sister with whom the bride had fallen out. What would the bride’s mother make of it? No problem: she had been rented, too. In September we learned that similar customs have been followed in Britain for some time: an early foray into business for the Home Secretary, Amber Rudd, involved offering to lease her posh friends to underpopulated weddings.



My own experience fits the current pattern: the high incidence of loneliness suffered by people between the ages of 18 and 34. I have sometimes been lonely before and after that period, but it was during those years that I was most afflicted. The worst episode struck when I returned to Britain after six years working in West Papua, Brazil and East Africa. In those parts I sometimes felt like a ghost, drifting through societies to which I did not belong. I was often socially isolated, but I seldom felt lonely, perhaps because the issues I was investigating were so absorbing and the work so frightening that I was swept along by adrenalin and a sense of purpose.

When I came home, however, I fell into a mineshaft. My university friends, with their proper jobs, expensive mortgages and settled, prematurely aged lives, had become incomprehensible to me, and the life I had been leading seemed incomprehensible to everyone. Though feeling like a ghost abroad was in some ways liberating – a psychic decluttering that permitted an intense process of discovery – feeling like a ghost at home was terrifying. I existed, people acknowledged me, greeted me cordially, but I just could not connect. Wherever I went, I heard my own voice bouncing back at me.

Eventually I made new friends. But I still feel scarred by that time, and fearful that such desolation may recur, particularly in old age. These days, my loneliest moments come immediately after I’ve given a talk, when I’m surrounded by people congratulating me or asking questions. I often experience a falling sensation: their voices seem to recede above my head. I think it arises from the nature of the contact: because I can’t speak to anyone for more than a few seconds, it feels like social media brought to life.

The word “sullen” evolved from the Old French solain, which means “lonely”. Loneliness is associated with an enhanced perception of social threat, so one of its paradoxical consequences is a tendency to shut yourself off from strangers. When I was lonely, I felt like lashing out at the society from which I perceived myself excluded, as if the problem lay with other people. To read any comment thread is, I feel, to witness this tendency: you find people who are plainly making efforts to connect, but who do so by insulting and abusing, alienating the rest of the thread with their evident misanthropy. Perhaps some people really are rugged individualists. But others – especially online – appear to use that persona as a rationale for involuntary isolation.

Whatever the reasons might be, it is as if a spell had been cast on us, transforming this ultrasocial species into a population of loners. Like a parasite enhancing the conditions for its own survival, loneliness impedes its own cure by breeding shame and shyness. The work of groups such as Age UK, Mind, Positive Ageing and the Campaign to End Loneliness is life-saving.

When I first wrote about this subject, and the article went viral, several publishers urged me to write a book on the theme. Three years sitting at my desk, studying isolation: what’s the second prize? But I found another way of working on the issue, a way that engages me with others, rather than removing me. With the brilliant musician Ewan McLennan, I have written a concept album (I wrote the first draft of the lyrics; he refined them and wrote the music). Our aim is to use it to help break the spell, with performances of both music and the spoken word designed to bring people together –which, we hope, will end with a party at the nearest pub.

By itself, our work can make only a tiny contribution to addressing the epidemic. But I hope that, both by helping people to acknowledge it and by using the power of music to create common sentiment, we can at least begin to identify the barriers that separate us from others, and to remember that we are not the selfish, ruthless beings we are told we are.

“Breaking the Spell of Loneliness” by Ewan McLennan and George Monbiot is out now. For a full list of forthcoming gigs visit: monbiot.com/music/

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood