The hard stuff

Darren Waters looks at the competition in the platform market

Statistics are often misleading but sometimes numbers do not lie. The global video game industry generates $30bn in sales each year, and the average age of a gamer is said to be 28 years old.

In the UK we spend more on computer games than we do on films at the cinema.

According to Screen Digest, more than £1.5bn will be spent on games in 2007, compared with £821m spent at the cinema box office.

Children and adults are playing more games on more platforms than ever before - from games consoles, to set-top boxes, mobile phones, the PC, the web and even the iPod. Yet hardware is not necessarily a money maker in the gaming market. In the console arena, Microsoft has now sold 13.4 million Xbox 360s worldwide, Nintendo has shifted 13.2 million Wii machines and Sony has sold 5.6 million PlayStation 3s, yet both Sony and Microsoft lose money on every console that they sell. For them, consoles are the delivery system through which they deliver the software and services that make the money.

Microsoft has capitalised on its 12-month head start into the market in this round of consoles, but it is Nintendo that is the success story of 2007. It is the only one of the three firms to make money on each console it sells and the Wii has been a runaway success to such an extent that Nintendo is struggling to meet demand.

Targeting family gaming

The company has targeted family gaming and shied away from the hardcore gamer market, focusing on fun, social interactivity and simplicity. Of all the three consoles it is the purest gaming platform - it does not play CDs, or DVDs, let alone high definition movies.

The Wiimote controller, which uses motion sensitivity rather than a plethora of buttons to direct the action has proved a huge hit with gamers of all ages.

Actors Nicole Kidman, Patrick Stewart and Julie Walters are the faces of an advertising campaign for Nintendo's handheld console, the DS - hardly the stereotype of the friendless, teen gamer.

Nintendo has sold more than 53 million DS consoles worldwide, twice the number that Sony has sold of its PlayStation Portable (PSP). Here too, Nintendo has focused on pure gaming, while Sony's PSP is also promoted as a media player and web browser.

Long term, it looks certain that all three console firms remain committed to the business. Microsoft has the deepest pockets of all three companies and sees the Xbox as a gateway to the digital living room of the future. It has invested billions of dollars in Xbox over the past decade and has yet to see a single cent in profit. Earlier this year, Microsoft's Shane Kim predicted that the firm would see its first profit from Xbox before the end of the 2008 financial year.

Hardcore gamers

The Xbox 360 continues to be seen as a console for hardcore gamers, despite attempts to broaden its appeal with arcade games available via its online service Xbox Live. In just five years Xbox Live, has attracted eight million subscribers worldwide and offers not just gaming but also video downloads and voice and video calls over the internet.

Sony has had a sticky 18 months - with delays to the launch of PlayStation 3, a lukewarm response to games on the machine and complaints that the console is too expensive. It has now launched a cut-down, cut-price version of PlayStation 3 and sales have spiked as a result, up 197 per cent in the month following the refinements.

HD movie player

Sony also makes great play of the fact the console can play Blu-ray high-definition movies. But, with the battle of formats between Blu-ray and HD-DVD still aflame, it is too early to know if this is a feature that really sells the console to consumers.

In the US, sales of hardware and software this year are up 50 per cent on 2006 and Christmas holiday sales are yet to be factored in.

The platform that is expected to see the biggest growth in the coming years is mobile gaming. Global mobile gaming revenue is set to skyrocket from $2.9bn in 2006 to $9.6bn in 2011, according to analysts Gartner.

Mobile phones like the iPhone, LG Viewty and Nokia N95 are now powerful enough to offer 3D gaming experiences.

The inclusion of global positioning satellite technology in phones could also lead to a rise in location-based games, with real-time action dependent on the gamers' physical location in the world.

The other growth area for gaming is among casual gamers, with an estimated 56 million people worldwide who play games on their PC regularly - everything from online chess and card games to puzzle titles.

Common games platform

The industry is expected to be worth $1bn in 2008 and encompass 80 million players within three years. Long term, some in the industry have predicted that the hardware wars could become irrelevant. Gerhard Florin, a senior executive at giant games publisher Electronic Arts, said the industry would benefit from a common games platform, instead of competing, and incompatible, systems.

Games hardware manufacturers could perhaps one day be competing services, or channels. Your gaming device of choice - be it console, PC phone, or set-top box - could be your conduit to Xbox Live or PlayStation World or Nintendo Land.

Whatever the future holds for the manufacturers of hardware, one thing is certain - the popularity of gaming shows no signs of diminishing.

One day it might not matter what hardware you play your games on.

Darren Waters is technology editor, for the BBC News website

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

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An English hero for the ages: Ian Botham at 60

Botham blends his sportsmanship and deep-seated passion for cricket with a lust for life.

Begging W H Auden’s pardon, it is possible both to honour and to value the vertical man, and in the case of Ian Botham, who turned 60 on 24 November, it is our bounden duty. No sportsman has given Britons so much to enjoy in the past half-century and no sportsman is loved more. Two decades after he retired from first-class cricket, his reputation as one of life’s champions remains unassailable.

No mere cricketer is he, either. Botham is a philanthropist, having raised more than £12m for various charities, notably Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research. In December, 30 years after his first walk from John o’Groats to Land’s End, he will set off again, in South Africa, where England are on tour. And he really does walk, too, not amble. As somebody who accompanied him on one of his dozen walks said: “You can’t keep up with him. The man is a phenomenon.”

Of all postwar sportsmen, only Bobby Charlton and, at a pinch, Henry Cooper come close to matching Botham’s enduring popularity. But Charlton, a shy man who was scarred by the Munich plane crash of 1958 (and may never have recovered from its emotional effects), has never comfortably occupied a public stage; and Cooper, being a boxer, had a solitary role. Botham, by contrast, spoke for England. Whenever he picked up his bat, or had a ball in his hand, he left spectators in no doubt.

Others have also spoken for England. Bobby Moore and Martin Johnson, captains respectively of England’s World Cup-winning football and rugby teams, were great players but did not reach out to people as naturally as Botham. Nick Faldo, Lester Piggott, Sebastian Coe and, to bring us up to date, Lewis Hamilton have beaten the best in the world, but they lacked those qualities that Botham displayed so freely. That is not to mark them down. They were, and are, champions. But Botham was born under a different star.

It was John Arlott, the great cricket commentator, who first spotted his uniqueness. Covering a match at Taunton in 1974, he asked the young colt to carry his bags up the rickety staircase to the press box, where Arlott, wearing his oenophile’s hat, pulled out a bottle of red wine and invited Botham to drink. Forty years later Botham is a discriminating wine drinker – and maker. Along with his friend and fellow England great Bob Willis, and their Australian wine­making pal Geoff Merrill, he has put his name to a notable Shiraz, “BMW”.

Arlott, with his nose for talent and good company, saw something in the young Botham that Brian Close, his captain at Somerset, was beginning to bring out. Later, Mike Brearley, as England captain, drew out something even more remarkable. As Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote, you’ve got to be carefully taught. And Botham, a fine team man as well as a supreme individual performer, has never withheld praise from those who enabled him to find his voice.

If sport reveals character, then cricket is the game that reveals it most clearly. In no other sport is the individual performance rooted so firmly in a team context. Every over brings a contest of skill and intelligence between batsman and bowler but only a team can win the match. “A cricketer,” as Arlott said, “is showing you something of himself all the time.”

Cricket also reveals national character more than any other sport. Football may be the most popular game in the world but cricket, and cricketers, tell us far more about England and Englishness. It is instructive, in this regard, to hear what Philippe Auclair, a French journalist and author long resident in London, has to say about Botham: “He is essentially an 18th-century Englishman.” In one! It’s not difficult to sense a kinship with Tom Jones, Fielding’s embodiment of 18th-century life, who began his journey, as readers may recall, in Somerset.

A country boy who played for Worcestershire after leaving Somerset, and who lives by choice in North Yorkshire, Botham is an old-fashioned Englishman. Although nobody has yet found him listening to the parson’s sermon, he is conservative with a small and upper-case C, a robust monarchist, handy with rod and gun, and happiest with a beaker in front of him. He represents (though he would never claim to be a representative) all those people who understand instinctively what England means, not in a narrow way, but through something that is in the blood.

Above all, he will be remembered for ever as the hero of 1981. Even now it takes some believing that Botham bowled and batted with such striking success that the Australians, who were one up after two Tests, were crushed. Some of us who were actually at Headingley for the famous third Test – thousands who claim to have been there were not – recall the odds of 500-1 on an England victory going up on the electronic scoreboard that Saturday evening.

Botham made 149 not out as England, following on, beat the Aussies by 18 runs. For three hours the country seemed to stop. In the next Test, at Edgbaston, Botham took five wickets for one run as Australia fell under his spell. Then, at Old Trafford, on a dank Saturday afternoon, he played the most memorable innings of his life and one of the greatest innings ever played by an Englishman: 118 magnificent, joyful runs. Joy: that’s the word. Botham brought joy into people’s lives.

Yet it was the final Test at the Oval, which ended in a draw, that brought from him a performance no less remarkable than those from before. He bowled 89 overs in that match, flat out, continuing to run in when others withdrew with injury. That was the team man coming to the fore. Little wonder his comrades thought the world of him.

Modest, loyal, respectful to opponents, grateful to all who have lent him a hand, and supported throughout a turbulent life by Kath, his rock of a wife, and their three children, this is a cricketing hero to rank with W G Grace, Jack Hobbs, Wally Hammond and Fred Trueman. A feature in the lives of all who saw him, and a very English hero. 

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State