Image: Ollie Reynolds / Nintendo LifeLast year, we were kindly sent a sample of 'The Most Relaxing Video Games' from Ryan Janes, a lovely book that delved into a collection of games handpicked to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Now, Janes is back with another book, this time looking at some of the best PvP games ever made – in fact, it's straight up called 'The Best Competitive Multiplayer Games', how about that! Much like the first book, this one doesn't merely list out a bunch of games and have done with it, but instead incorporates a lot of Janes' own personal history and anecdotes, making for a pleasant read from start to finish.Subscribe to Nintendo Life on YouTube814kWatch on YouTube It also happens to be chock-full of Nintendo titles; obvious choices like Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, Nintendo Land, and Splatoon 3, but also games that might fly under the radar in the modern age: Pikmin 3, Warioware, Inc.: Mega Party Game$!, and Kirby's Dream Course, to name but a few. Other platforms are represented too, mind you, with classics like Tekken 3, The Typing of the Dead, and Marvel Snap all featured. If you picked up Janes' first book and enjoyed it, then this is more of the delightful same. It's got lots of interesting facts that you might not have known before, plenty of cool choices that we perhaps won't have considered ourselves, and the product itself remains high quality and pleasantly big; a lovely coffee table book, then. Images: Ollie Reynolds / Nintendo Life Images: Ollie Reynolds / Nintendo Life Image: Ollie Reynolds / Nintendo Life The Best Competitive Multiplayer Games is available now via Pen and Sword. Huge thanks to Ryan Janes for sending a sample for our perusement. Please note that some external links on this page are affiliate links, which means if you click them and make a purchase we may receive a small percentage of the sale. Please read our FTC Disclosure for more information. Have you nabbed this book already? What do you make of it? Let us know your thoughts with a comment in the usual place.

Video games' soaring prices have a cost beyond your wallet - the concept of ownership itself As the industry's big squeeze reaches consumers, a grim bargain emerges. Image credit: Adobe Stock, Microsoft Opinion by Chris Tapsell Deputy Editor Published on May 22, 2025 Earlier this month, Microsoft bumped up the prices of its entire range of Xbox consoles, first-party video games, and most (or in the US, all) of its accessories. It comes a few weeks after Nintendo revealed a £396 Switch 2, with £75 copies of its own first-party fare in Mario Kart World, and a few months after Sony launched the exorbitant £700 PS5 Pro (stand and disc drive not included), a £40 price rise for its all-digital console in the UK, the second of this generation, and news that it's considering even more price rises in the months to come. The suspicion - or depending on where you live, perhaps hope - had been that when Donald Trump's ludicrously flip-flopping, self-defeating tariffs came into play, that the US would bear the brunt of it. The reality is that we're still waiting on the full effects. But it's also clear, already, that this is far from just an American problem. The platform-holders are already spreading the costs, presumably to avoid an outright doubling of prices in one of their largest markets. PS5s in Japan now cost £170 more than they did at launch. That price rise, mind, took place long before the tariffs, as did the £700 PS5 Pro (stand and disc drive not included!), and the creeping costs of subscriptions such as Game Pass and PS Plus. Nor is it immediately clear how that justifies charging $80 for, say, a copy of Borderlands 4, a price which hasn't been confirmed but which has still been justified by the ever graceful Randy Pitchford, a man who seems to stride across the world with one foot perpetually bared and ready to be put, squelching, square in it, and who says true fans will still "find a way" to buy his game. The truth is inflation has been at it here for a while, and that inflation is a funny beast, one which often comes with an awkward mix of genuine unavoidability - tariffs, wars, pandemics - and concealed opportunism. Games are their own case amongst the many, their prices instead impacted more by the cost of labour, which soars not because developers are paid particularly well (I can hear their scoffs from here) but because of the continued, lagging impact of their executives' total miscalculation, in assuming triple-A budgets and timescales could continue growing exponentially. And by said opportunism - peep how long it took for Microsoft and the like to announce those bumped prices after Nintendo came in with Mario Kart at £75. Anyway, the causes are, in a sense, kind of moot. The result of all this squeezing from near enough all angles of gaming's corporate world is less a pincer manoeuvre on the consumer than a suffocating, immaculately executed full-court press, a full team hurtling with ruthless speed towards the poor unwitting sucker at home on the sofa. Identifying whether gaming costs a fortune now for reasons we can or can't sympathise with does little to change the fact that gaming costs a fortune. And, to be clear, it really does cost a fortune. Things are getting very expensive in the world of video games. £700 for a PS5 Pro! | Image credit: Eurogamer Whenever complaints about video game prices come up there is naturally a bit of pushback - games have always been expensive! What about the 90s! - usually via attempts to draw conclusions from economic data. Normally I'd be all on board with this - numbers can't lie! - but in this case it's a little different. Numbers can't lie, but they can, sometimes, be manipulated to prove almost anything you want - or just as often, simply misunderstood to the same ends. (Take most back-of-a-cigarette-packet attempts at doing the maths here, and the infinite considerations to bear in mind: Have you adjusted for inflation? How about for cost of living, as if the rising price of everything else may somehow make expensive games more palatable? Or share of disposable average household salary? For exchange rates? Purchasing power parity? Did you use the mean or the median for average income? What about cost-per-frame of performance? How much value do you place on moving from 1080p to 1440p? Does anyone sit close enough to their TV to tell enough of a difference with 4K?! Ahhhhh!) Instead, it's worth remembering that economics isn't just a numerical science. It is also a behavioural one - a psychological one. The impact of pricing is as much in the mind as it is on the spreadsheet, hence these very real notions of "consumer confidence" and pricing that continues to end in ".99". And so sometimes with pricing I find it helps to borrow another phrase from sport, alongside that full-court press, in the "eye test". Sports scouts use all kinds of numerical data to analyse prospective players these days, but the best ones still marry that with a bit of old-school viewing in the flesh. If a player looks good on paper and passes the eye test, they're probably the real deal. Likewise, if the impact of buying an $80 video game at full price looks unclear in the data, but to your human eye feels about as whince-inducing as biting into a raw onion like it's an apple, and then rubbing said raw onion all over said eye, it's probably extremely bloody expensive and you should stop trying to be clever. Video games, to me, do feel bloody expensive. If I weren't in the incredibly fortunate position of being able to source or expense most of them for work I am genuinely unsure if I'd be continuing with them as a hobby - at least beyond shifting my patterns, as so many players have over the years, away from premium console and PC games to the forever-tempting, free-to-play time-vampires like Fortnite or League of Legends. Which leads, finally, to the real point here: that there is another cost to rising game and console prices, beyond the one hitting you square in the wallet. How much is GTA 6 going to cost? $80 or more? | Image credit: Rockstar The other cost - perhaps the real cost, when things settle - is the notion of ownership itself. Plenty of physical media collectors, aficionados and diehards will tell you this has been locked in the sights of this industry for a long time, of course. They will point to gaming's sister entertainment industries of music, film and television, and the paradigm shift to streaming in each, as a sign of the inevitability of it all. And they will undoubtedly have a point. But this step change in the cost of gaming will only be an accelerant. Understanding that only takes a quick glance at the strategy of, say, Xbox in recent years. While Nintendo is still largely adhering to the buy-it-outright tradition and Sony is busy shooting off its toes with live service-shaped bullets, Microsoft has, like it or not, positioned itself rather deftly. After jacking up the cost of its flatlining hardware and platform-agnostic games, Xbox, its execs would surely argue, is also now rather counterintuitively the home of value gaming - if only because Microsoft itself is the one hoiking up the cost of your main alternative. Because supplanting the waning old faithfuls in this kind of scenario - trade-ins, short-term rentals - is, you guessed it, Game Pass. You could even argue the consoles are factored in here too. Microsoft, with its "this is an Xbox" campaign and long-stated ambition to reach players in the billions, has made it plain that it doesn't care where you play its games, as long as you're playing them. When all physical consoles are jumping up in price, thanks to that rising tide effect of inflation, the platform that lets you spend £15 a month to stream Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, Oblivion Remastered and the latest Doom straight to your TV without even buying one is, at least in theory (and not forgetting the BDS call for a boycott of them) looking like quite an attractive proposition. Xbox, for its part, has been chipping away at this idea for a while - we at Eurogamer had opinions about team green's disregard for game ownership as far back as the reveal of the Xbox One, in the ancient times of 2013. Then it was a different method, the once-horrifying face of digital rights management, or DRM, along with regulated digital game sharing and online-only requirements. Here in 2025, with that disdain now platform-agnostic, and where games are being disappeared from people's libraries, platforms like Steam are, by law, forced to remind you that you're not actually buying your games at all, where older games are increasingly only playable via subscriptions to Nintendo, Sony, and now Xbox, and bosses are making wild claims about AI's ability to "preserve" old games by making terrible facsimiles of them, that seems slightly quaint. More directly, Xbox has been talking about this very openly since at least 2021. As Ben Decker, then head of gaming services marketing at Xbox, said to me at the time: "Our goal for Xbox Game Pass really ladders up to our goal at Xbox, to reach the more than 3 billion gamers worldwide… we are building a future with this in mind." Four years on, that future might be now. Jacking up the cost of games and consoles alone won't do anything to grow gaming's userbase, that being the touted panacea still by the industry's top brass. Quite the opposite, obviously (although the Switch 2 looks set to still be massive, and the PS5, with all its price rises, still tracks in line with the price-cut PS4). But funneling more and more core players away from owning games, and towards a newly incentivised world where they merely pay a comparatively low monthly fee to access them, might just. How much a difference that will truly make, and the consequences of it, remain up for debate of course. We've seen the impact of streaming on the other entertainment industries in turn, none for the better, but games are a medium of their own. Perhaps there's still a little room for optimism. Against the tide there are still organisations like Does It Play? and the Game History Foundation, or platforms such as itch.io and GOG (nothing without its flaws, of course), that exist precisely because of the growing resistance to that current. Just this week, Lost in Cult launched a new wave of luxurious, always-playable physical editions of acclaimed games, another small act of defiance - though perhaps another sign things are going the way of film and music, where purists splurge on vinyl and Criterion Collection BluRays but the vast majority remain on Netflix and Spotify. And as uncomfortable as it may be to hear for those - including this author! - who wish for this medium to be preserved and cared for like any other great artform, there will be some who argue that a model where more games can be enjoyed by more people, for a lower cost, is worth it. Game Pass often offers great value, but the library is always in a state of flux. Collectors may need to start looking at high-end physical editions. | Image credit: Microsoft There's also another point to bear in mind here. Nightmarish as it may be for preservation and consumer rights, against the backdrop of endless layoffs and instability many developers tout the stability of a predefined Game Pass or PS Plus deal over taking a punt in the increasingly crowded, choppy seas of the open market. Bethesda this week has just boasted Doom: The Dark Ages' achievement of becoming the most widely-played (note: not fastest selling) Doom game ever. That despite it reaching only a fraction of peak Steam concurrents in the same period as its predecessor, Doom: Eternal - a sign, barring some surprise shift away from PC gaming to consoles, that people really are beginning to choose playing games on Game Pass over buying them outright. The likes of Remedy and Rebellion tout PS Plus and Game Pass as stabilisers, or even accelerants, for their games launching straight onto the services. And independent studios and publishers of varying sizes pre-empted that when we spoke to them for a piece about this exact this point, more than four years ago - in a sense, we're still waiting for a conclusive answer to a question we first began investigating back in 2021: Is Xbox Game Pass just too good to be true? We've talked, at this point, at great length about how this year would be make-or-break for the triple-A model in particular. About how the likes of Xbox, or Warner Bros., or the many others have lost sight of their purpose - and in the process, their path to sustainability - in the quest for exponential growth. How £700 Pro edition consoles are an argument against Pro editions altogether. And about how, it's becoming clear, the old industry we once knew is no more, with its new form still yet to take shape. There's an argument now, however, that a grim new normal for preservation and ownership may, just as grimly, be exactly what the industry needs to save itself. It would be in line with what we've seen from the wider world of technology and media - and really, the wider world itself. A shift from owning to renting. That old chestnut of all the capital slowly rising, curdling at the top. The public as mere tenants in a house of culture owned by someone, somewhere else. It needn't have to be this way, of course. If this all sounds like a particularly unfavourable trade-in, remember this too: it's one that could almost certainly have been avoided.

At DICE and GDC this year I heard talk of a trend in game development that sent a chill down my spine: "deprofessionalization." As A16z marketing partner Ryan K. Rigney defines it, deprofessionalization is a phenomenon driven by the overperformance of older titles (particularly free-to-play live service games), large studios struggling to drive sales, and the outsized success of some solo developers and small teams.These three forces, he argues, will combine to "drive career professionals from the traditional, professionalized side of the games industry.""Some of these people will decide to go indie," he continues. "Others will leave gaming altogether. And in between there’s a vast spectrum of irregular working arrangements available."Is this trend real? It sure felt so at PAX East 2025. It's no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic led to many game companies decamping from expo floors, retreating to either all-online promotion or in-person community meetups structured around intermittent panels. Gone are the days where a chunk of the development team can get one-on-one facetime with players—shifts in supply and demand have simply moved where marketing takes place.But something else lurked under the surface. Some notable studios like Behaviour Interactive and Funcom had classic booths up on the show floor. Devolver Digital had maybe the tallest booth on display—but it was only using it to showcase three games: Mycopunk, Monster Train 2, and Botsu. The bulk of the remaining space was taken up by small publishers and game studios.Related:Wandering through these booths, I found a mix of truly excellent and inspiring games. But also found myself bubbling with frustration. Few of the developers on display were working on teams larger than three people. They talked about publishers wanting ever-more-expensive offerings as part of their pitch deck. Short-term contractors seemed to be the best way to plug gaps. Why did it feel like so few proper businesses were fighting to get their games in front of players at PAX?Speaking with Rigney and other developers, I sensed that "deprofessionalization" isn't just a catchy phrase to describe demand-side economics in game industry hiring. It's a frustrating reality that may undervalue games from big and small teams alike.Deprofessionalization is built on the back of devaluing laborRigney offered some extra nuance on his "deprofessionalization" theory in an email exchange we had before PAX. He predicted that marketing roles at studios would be "the first" on the chopping block, followed by "roles that seem replaceable to management (even if they're not)."Related:"The winners will be the creative renegades. I'm talking about the people making work that would have never gotten greenlit at one of these bigger publishers in the first place. Some of these creatives will start their own studio, or dabble in side projects...This is the only creative industry on the planet where one person can make $100 million making something by themselves."That held up in my survey of the games boothing at PAX. The developers of Mycopunk and Cat Secretary had some of the larger teams on the floor of about 5-6 people. Indie publisher Playism was showing off a number of excellent-looking games like Mind Diver and Break Arts III. Executive producer Shunji Mizutani told me the average team size the company is looking to back is around 1-3 developers (though he said it's not a hard and fast rule).My favorite game I saw, We Harvest Shadows is being developed by The First Tree solo developer David Wehle. Wehle explained that he's hiring a contract coder to help with the dense system design fueling the "farming" part of his "horror farming simulator." The story was the same everywhere I went. Solo devs, two-person teams, and publishers fishing for low-budget indie hits were the talk of the show.Related:I want to be clear here—no one I spoke with at PAX East should feel "obligated" to give anyone a job. They're small teams making the most of limited resources, and it's the acceleration in game development technology that's made it possible. What feels wrong is how few people seem to benefit from this status quo.Image via ReedPop.To go back to Rigney for a moment, his key example of a post-deprofessionalization game developer is veteran developer Aaron Rutledge, a former lead designer on League of Legends, Call of Duty: Black Ops 4, and Apex Legends. After leaving Respawn Entertainment in 2024 he founded a consultancy firm Area Denial, acting as a "gun for hire" for studios.Rutledge deserves his success, and the life of a traveling creative called on by other studios sounds romantic. But as a foundation for game development, it's a framework that celebrates the few over the many. It narrows which roles are considered "essential" for making great games (often designers or programmers) and treats other positions as somehow less essential. You could see someone like Wehle hiring someone like Rutledge to bring some of that triple-A experience to a small game.But that feels like the polar ends of who can benefit in the deprofessionalized world—developers with the stability to swing big for big-shot ideas, and programmers or designers with deep career experience that can be called in like a group of noble mercenaries. People in between will be left out.Who gets left behind in a world mainly filled with small teams?My PAX trip validated my fear that three professions are especially vulnerable in this deprofessionalized world: artists, writers, and those working in game audio or music. These roles seemed vulnerable because on these small teams, they were the roles developers mentioned doing in some kind of shared or joint fashion.All three risk compartmentalization as "asset creators," their work treated as products you can purchase off the store shelf.Every artist in games knows how hard it is to make a living doing what you love. In-house artist positions have faded away as companies look overseas to produce as many assets as humanly possible at the lowest living wage. Enthusiasm for AI-generated assets (that look like dogshit) are nudging this trend along. In the "gun for hire" mindset, working artists aren't worth anything to game development because they're producing goods to be used, not participants in the process. Art directors are in a slightly more stable position, but only by virtue of knowing "what looks good" and telling someone else what they want to do.As someone who recently shipped his second game as a writer, the cuts to game narrative teams hit close to home. The GDC 2025 State of the Industry survey reported that of the 11 percent of developers laid off in the last year, 19 percent of them worked in game narrative, the highest of any responding demographic. Two diverging trends are hurting this field: the growth of successful games that don't feature much narrative (either focusing on deep game mechanics or story-lite multiplayer) and the spread of story-driven games authored by the creative director and maybe one or two collaborators create conditions that lower the number of available jobs.Image via ReedPop.Game writers have long described frustration with how they're treated by the industry, often brought in later in the process and sometimes treated as if they lie in opposition to the rest of the development team. Some studios leaned on the job title of "narrative designer" for professionals who write and implement narrative events, but that still speaks to a mistrust of the profession, that producing words isn't enough to bring value to a team.Finally, game audio and music professionals both produce work that can be bundled into licensable libraries, with implementation left to designers on a team. Sometimes this work is essential, the number of sounds a game needs can't be produced by an individual human. And composers don't always want to be tied to one studio—working with multiple teams frees them to explore creative projects and keep working when they aren't necessarily needed in a day-to-day game development environment.But again, treating them this way puts them on the rim of the game development wheel, implying their labor could be deprioritized by true talent that deserves to reap the benefits of game design.A decentralized creative community needs to benefit creativesRigney explained to me that the game industry has one ace up its sleeve that other creative fields don't: its "indie" market is a commercially viable market. "People are paying for these games!," he exclaimed. "This is not happening for indie filmmakers. This isn't happening for books. What's happening for indie games and small studios won't replace the jobs lost at the major publishers, but it will create opportunity for the most creative and most determined people."But don't rush off to start your indie dreams—it's still as true as it was for years that most indie games do not succeed. And those that don't succeed can still be financial fodder for the shovel merchants of the worlds—your technology companies, your payment processors, your game platforms, your investors, etc. Plenty of companies are standing ready to profit on the devs gunning to be the next Schedule I.Is there a way deprofessionalization can benefit the developers left behind? Rigney raised one fair point: part of the reason some indies are running circles around large companies is that those companies can mismanage creatives so badly they go for years without shipping a game. If someone smart could crack that problem—improve management at large organizations and make sure games make it out the door—that could be a way to balance the trend."Right now none of the solutions are well equipped to solve all the problems. I work in venture capital, which isn't great for funding individual games, but can work well when funding teams that are pursuing large scale growth via some new distribution or technological edge."Indeed, PAX East showed that we need creative solutions. One shouldn't need to be a social media wunderkind, years of hard-to-earn triple-A experience, or be a jack-of-all-trades to have a career in game development. That path does bring us some wildly inventive games—but leaves us with a community of developers hustling on gig work to keep their dream alive.Update 5/16: This piece has been updated to clarify Rigney's job title at A16z.