Welcome to last week’s iteration of Right Click to Zoom, the more in-depth article side of this blog. Today, I’ll be looking at one of the more insidious trends that’s been creeping into video games of late, and explain why you should try to avoid them: loot boxes.
As the years have progressed, the cost of game development has increased dramatically for the top end companies. The quality of sound, music, animation and general graphical fidelity required for a game to keep up with modern technological trends is staggering when you compare what was ground breaking previously, and none of this comes cheap.
Each console generation sees the hardware release at a higher price than the last, and while there’s usually initial grumbling and outcry, it quiets down and is accepted by the time the next one rolls around. Individual new game releases started growing in price over time to match, and while that has since become more constant, publishers are starting to find new ways to get an extra dollar.
There’s a lot of ways this has gone about, and some are considerably less acceptable than others. I personally feel, however, that the loot boxes fad that has started to creep into numerous undeserving games since the success of Overwatch is quite possibly the worst for consumers to be subject to. But why is this? And how are other forms of this more acceptable?
The Internet, DLC and You
The year 2006 saw the release of a little game you might have heard about called The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. As much as the game receives a fair bit of playful mockery for shaky dialogue and ugly character models nowadays, Oblivion was a massive success at the time. What was not as successful was the public reception to one particular system: DLC.
Let’s go back a bit earlier for context. The early years of the new millenium saw the Internet go from relatively niche, to widespread but not powerful, all the way to increasingly available and fast. Trying to download even a single megabyte on a 56k modem could take quite some time, so regular patches to games were once upon a time distributed on discs (if they existed at all). As such, making further additions to already released games was relegated to large content batches in the form of expansion packs and sold as separate pieces of software.
While Oblivion would ultimately get an expansion pack of its own before the end of its lifespan, that was not the first addition that was shown off. Instead, Bethesda produced one of the first noteworthy DLC offerings: Horse Armour. For a nominal fee, you would be able to… well, give your horse armour, as the name suggests.
This announcement was not reacted to well by the general populace. Bethesda was charging for cosmetic upgrades that added almost nothing to the game! Why was this addition not just part of the base game? Shouldn’t it be something you unlock through play, as most cosmetic appearances were at the time? This and many more arguments were made, and the discussion was bandied back and forth across the gaming community.
Whatever the general argument for Oblivion may have stood, history made its choice clear. Fast forward to modern days, where download speeds and sizes are much less of a limiting factor. A game not having some form of DLC is arguably more an exception than the norm in modern times. In fact, it’s not uncommon for a game that is well received to have DLC requested of its developers, just so that there’s more to play.
While a lot of this DLC is still cosmetic or fairly minor, it can also include a wide range of additions to the game’s content. Traditionally sized expansion packs have become increasingly rare, as the availability of smaller pieces of content generally supersedes the need for a larger addition unless the game calls for it.
As a whole, the system generally works. Those who wish to pay extra for more content in a game they like can do so, and while it’s always nicer if optional cosmetics are accessible in the game without payment, it’s up to the player to decide if they want it. There are certainly valid complaints to be made, such as when DLC is included in a game on launch day rather than being part of the package, or if the content has clearly been removed or left unfinished during development solely to resell for extra later.
Overall though, many of the vocal criticisms of DLC have at least quietened down. It’s here to stay, in some form or another. But unfortunately, the gradual acceptance of what was originally seen as a horrible addition to the industry has set a precedent that other devs and publishers are attempting to capitalise on. I can’t completely fault them for this — it’s a business’ job to make money, after all — but the methods in which they are doing so come at the expense of the consumer.
Throughout the years, we’ve seen preorder bonuses grow increasingly elaborate to bait people in. We’ve seen season passes emerge, which serves as preordering relatively unknown DLC when the base game itself isn’t even out yet. Recently, Bethesda has taken another attempt at introducing paid mods after the disastrous first try on Steam a few years ago, and so far doesn’t seem to be taking well. But one more practice that is growing increasingly common is the loot box system.
Many of these practices are particularly consumer unfriendly as it relies on you putting down a deposit on something that is not presently ready and may not meet your standards. By preordering, you’re committing to purchase a game on launch day at full price, even if it turns out to be bad or not like what you were hoping for. Season passes are much the same, only for undetailed DLC that might be a fairly minor or irrelevant addition. But all of these at least offer some variety of product.
Loot boxes, on the other hand, give you a chance to get the product you want… or they give you completely irrelevant and unnecessary bonuses. The practice has been around for quite some time now, but it’s only recently that it’s been creeping into full priced triple-A games. To understand just how harmful they can be, we need to go back to their source.
Gacha by the wallet
You might be familiar with the toy machines that sell small capsules with a random toy inside that are dispensed with a small payment. Well, rather than a novelty item like they can be in places like Australia, they’re considerably more common and widespread in Japan. The machines and the toys alike are called gachapon or gashapon, derived from the onomatopoeia it makes when you twist the handle, and shortened to “gacha”.
This concept of small donation for randomised reward is the foundation of the gacha economy that can be found in video games. Specifically, this is a frequently used method of payment and content dispersal in a lot of “freemium” titles; that is, a game that is technically free to play, but which is supported through microtransactions that dole out rewards or boosts to speed up the game. Oft-times, these games will be painfully slow or extremely limited with just the free content, and so these microtransactions are encouraged to make any progress. And gacha is a common way of doing this.
See, it’s one thing to have a whole slew of random equipment or characters that are considerably stronger or better than the others in these games. Grinding them out slowly may be an option, but rather than buying directly what you need or want, it will instead give you the chance to use the gacha system and receive these items from a pool of potential rewards. Some games give you free rolls of the system to get you started or encourage you, but almost inevitably this content will dry up to encourage you to spend the money.
This is how these games make their money. Perhaps they might not receive a cent from 90% of the players of their product, but those committed or invested might decide to drop a couple of dollars out of respect to the developers. No harm, right?
So what if that developer decides to include special super powered weapons or characters that have a very low gacha drop rate? What if they release characters that people really like or want to get, but limit how many chances players will have to do so without spending money? What if there’s only a limited time before you can never again get this one thing you want?
Surely a few dollars for the chance won’t harm your piggybank. But then despite this, you might get nothing that you actually want, and have effectively spent money for nothing. What’s the harm in dropping just another five dollars on it? Or ten? Maybe twenty?
What if you want something the game offers so desperately that you drop hundreds or thousands of dollars in the hopes of claiming it?
This might sound unreasonable to many, but it is actually the sad truth of the gacha game: 99% of these games income will be drawn from less than 1% of the player pool. The terminology for this kind of player is the very unflattering “whale”, as the entire game and its gacha system is built to lure in fish (players) who bite (pay), but once in a while the developers will fish up a whale and be fed for months.
As stated, this is a very common tactic for freemium games to employ. This kind of game is extremely common among mobile phone titles, making up a good number of the most actively played titles on those systems. They’re generally low effort to make and feature very limited or simplistic gameplay, but draw in appeal with attractive art depicting fan favourite characters. Just about every notable series of video game or TV show has a gacha-based phone game modeled in its likeness. Kingdom Hearts, Fate, Dragonball, Tales of X, Fire Emblem… you name it, there’s probably a gacha game of it. Hell, Final Fantasy has multiple!
These games may all differ in their execution and how “fair” they might be with their content dispersal or drop rates, but all of them are built on the same concepts. You don’t have to pay, but you’ll struggle to get what you really want if you don’t. Whether by rarity or limited time events, people are lured in with something they might want but have no means of accurately, reliably getting. You just have to pull the gacha lever and see what happens; a small donation for a possible reward, or possibly nothing.
If this is starting to sound familiar to you, it might be because you’ve likely seen it every time you’ve stepped into a casino or any other venue that allows electronic gambling. And this is precisely why the gacha system is so dangerously exploitative. Human beings by nature are susceptible to these psychological triggers, because we appreciate being rewarded for our efforts. If we put something in and get nothing, we feel angry and cheated. If we put something in and get something back, even if it’s not exactly what we want, it still softens the blow.
In the case of gacha, every attempt might not net you exactly what you want, but you still get something for your efforts, and the price for entry is so small. The people who become whales for these games are almost identical to the people who lose their fortunes in Vegas casinos; their methods and potential rewards are just a little different.
An increasing majority of titles on mobile platforms conform to these standards, and any attempts by developers to make a legitimate gaming platform of these OSes usually are lost amidst countless freemium titles. Serious gamers might not consider this an issue if it’s just on the phone, however. As such, they might not have noticed that this trend has been growing on other platforms and in full price titles for quite some time.
Jumping from phones to full games
It’s easy to attribute this sudden spike in the use of loot boxes to the rampant success of Overwatch following its release last year. That said, we can actually trace the concept back to years ago.
The oft-maligned but remarkably solid multiplayer modes in BioWare titles Mass Effect 3 and Dragon Age Inquisition both featured a similar system. Playing through the modes would earn you currency, and this currency could be used to buy boxes of random gear, consumables and characters. If you didn’t want to play, however, you could buy them with microtransactions, a textbox case of what would later unfold.
Perhaps these weren’t especially noticed because they were features of the secondary multiplayer modes of the games, and neither of those titles were usually played or marketed for that facet. A good number of people who purchased and completed those titles probably didn’t even realise the system was in place. Still, it existed, and it was a fairly good example of what might follow save.
More recently, Blizzard Entertainment brought the concept of the gacha system to greater audience attention with not just Overwatch, but with collectible card game Hearthstone. Collectible card games emphasise the gacha concept well: with constantly introduced and rotated sets of cards, a player needs to frequently reinvest in having these newer packs. You can get them over time by playing the game, but it’s slow going, so why not speed the process up by buying more packs?
Furthermore, not all card draws are equal. Hearthstone cards are split between multiple rarities ranging from common, rare, epic and legendary, with the most powerful cards usually the rarest ones. Each pack contains five cards, but you might not see anything but four commons and a rare in an average pack. For those who are trying to play ranked and make it to the top of the leaderboards, you will probably need these more powerful cards and thus are incentivised to drop more money on new packs if you don’t get lucky the first time.
Many of the cues of freemium gacha games are present in Hearthstone and other card games (both physical and digital) as well. As a Magic the Gathering player, I remember starting the game and being fascinated by every card in the pack, including the common fillers. Now? Opening a new pack will see me skipping straight to the rare card, glancing at the rest briefly, then putting them in separate piles for the commons to rot.
Most card players will be able to share similar experiences, no doubt, and a quick glance at the library of various pack unboxing videos for Hearthstone will see that progression happen in the span of a single video.
But these are still freemium games, so they can be given less scrutiny over this practice than titles that require you to pay to play in the first place. Thus we come to the elephant in the room and Blizzard’s latest successful release: Overwatch.
I spoke about the value proposition at length a couple of weeks ago, and Overwatch at launch was arguably a good case study for this concept. When it released in the first half of 2016, I recall hearing some murmuring about whether it was worth the price point. Featuring absolutely no single player mode, no ranked at launch, and only a handful of maps, there were plenty who questioned whether it was enough to justify the 60 USD/90 AUD selling point.
The biggest point of contention, however, was the inclusion of the loot boxes. Following the typical gacha systems, you could earn these loot boxes by playing the game normally and would receive them as rewards for leveling up your account. Everything within was a cosmetic change that didn’t affect gameplay or statistics in the slightest, and any duplicate items would be changed to a currency that allowed you to buy the items you wanted (a system that Hearthstone also features). This, in and of itself, isn’t a terrible system; it rewards playing with niceties and gives the player a tangible feeling of progressing that simply going through the motions might not.
The issue starts to arise with the fact that you can pay microtransactions to gain more loot boxes. They’re exactly the same as the ones you earn in the game, but for a few dollars you can bypass needing to actually play the game in order to earn them.
Now we’re in the morally dubious grey area. Players have already paid a premium figure for the right to play the game, but now they’re paying even more for it. This isn’t a subscription based MMORPG, and there’s no new gameplay systems or perks on offer like a content DLC or expansion pack is offering. It’s simply giving you the boxes to earn your optional cosmetics faster.
Furthermore, you have absolutely no guarantee of what’s going to be in the loot boxes. Sure, you might get a single skin you want, but you could also get nothing but a variety of basic recolours on characters you never play. You might get an abundance of sprays and voice lines, which serve almost like the filler “common” cards in Hearthstone. And yes, you might ultimately build up the currency to buy something you want specifically… but it might end up costing you, say, twenty dollars of loot boxes to do so when a similar game might charge five dollars for the skin directly.
Overwatch’s example gets even more egregious when you factor in their new, limited edition event skins. Every few months, Blizzard will roll out another patch featuring a selection of themed skins or items for Halloween, or Christmas, or the Olympics. These items all go into the same loot boxes as everything else, but are only available for a limited time, and are considerably more to create with in-game currency than regular items.
Suddenly, the human compulsion to acquire what they don’t have comes into play. Suddenly, people are playing the game over this short period more fervently, earning as many boxes as possible and snarling in frustration as they get nothing. So, finally, desperately, they drop a few dollars in for a chance. No harm, no foul, right?
Once again, this is using the same exploitative, predatory psychological systems that are at the cornerstone of gambling. And for every person that has earned a jackpot at Vegas, there are many more who have thrown away money that they couldn’t afford to lose on the hopes of being one of them. The rewards may be much smaller in loot boxes, but the psychological hooks are identical.
Overwatch has set itself up to earn a huge amount of money from these microtransactions, perhaps more than it ever earned from original purchases. And yet, Overwatch has been purchased more than 20 million times worldwide. That’s a massive, staggering success in video game development terms, more than enough to recoup all development costs and keep the servers running for years to come. And while maintenance and staff wages are continual costs, I can guarantee you that Blizzard is well and truly in the black on their figures for this game.
The “purely optional” defence and its fallacy
I’ve stuck with Overwatch as a good case study for loot boxes, but there are other games that I need to cover. Before moving to them, there is one defence that is thrown up for this style of gacha-based microtransactions that I need to address.
I said it myself in the above example, but each of the items acquired in the Overwatch loot boxes is purely cosmetic. Not one of them confers a mechanical advantage in the game. There’s no stat boosts, consumable power-ups, or useful gains you can exploit with a lucky drop. It simply changes how you look and sound to other players and gives you a means to show off a design you like.
Since all of this is completely optional and won’t change your gameplay, doesn’t it make it harmless? If it’s just cosmetics that people are paying for, who really cares? That’s the argument that people make.
At the core of the discussion, well… this argument might bear some weight to the average player. But the problem is that gacha-based systems aren’t built to accommodate the average; these systems are built to prey on those with the psychological tendencies that lead them towards gambling.
You might make the argument that you will never lose your house to a gambling addiction, and yet there are people out there who do on a sadly regular basis. You might have the willpower to never invest a few dollars in a game for cosmetics, and that’s fine. The problem is that for every number of people just like you, there’s probably one who is making reckless financial decisions as a result of these systems. Perhaps you’re unaffected, but should that mean that someone more susceptible to these tactics shouldn’t be protected when there are better alternatives?
Even assuming none of that is enough, here’s another counterpoint: there are many games that offer systems that can provide just as much reward and positive feedback to players without encouraging them to break the bank. In fact, some games offer this kind of stuff as part of the gameplay without relying on real money transactions. Cosmetics and appearance changes are unlocked by playing, simple as that. Alternatively, other games have cosmetic DLC and items at set price points, where you pay for exactly what you want without having to go through the slot machine process.
Finally, allow me to offer a counterpoint. Say that there is a side feature of the game that people don’t particularly care about — let’s say Player vs Player content in an MMORPG when you are primarily a solo player, for example. This content may offer cosmetic benefits for clearing it, or achieving high ranks, or certain number of kills. The people who earn this invest a lot of their time and focus to earn it and it usually fills them with pride.
What happens if we introduce DLC that gives any player the chance to buy what is normally earned with focus, skill and dedication? Or worse, what happens if you can’t buy this directly, but instead there’s a chance that you might get it in a loot box just like that? Do you think those who completed the challenge to earn this will be satisfied?
Assuming this doesn’t irritate you, fine, but there are multiple ways this could be taken to extremes. For example, what if an achievement is particularly hard to get, but offers a way to unlock it for a few dollars? What if you could bypass the tough bosses in Dark Souls for a small fee? Or start with powerful guns in a round of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds?
While these are extreme examples, I can guarantee you that if the publishers and developers of games think they can get away with charging for such things without damaging their figures, they probably will try to. In each case, these purchases end up buying rewards and satisfaction for one player while robbing any sense of success from someone who worked hard to earn it. It suddenly tells me that my time playing, learning, and executing a video game doesn’t mean anything if I can bypass that for the right price.
And if your game is the kind of game that I feel justified paying extra to skip actually playing it, well… why is it even a game in the first place?
Once again, this is an extreme example, but this is the kind of thought process that such microtransactions lead down. You might be able to earn these cosmetics by playing the game, or you can just spend a few dollars to not have to. Perhaps this is not enough to dissuade you from defending the loot box system, and that’s perfectly fine; you are entitled to your own beliefs and opinions, and I respect that. Nonetheless, this is how I personally have started to feel about the whole system.
At that point, I would probably prefer for these items to simply be available to purchase directly at my leisure for a set price without any gambling. However, this is probably not going to earn as much money for the publisher as the alternative and exploitative loot box approach is going to, which is why the system is appearing more frequently in as many games as it can justify.
And I assure you, this number is most definitely increasing rapidly.
Cosmetic is no longer a defining point
My above arguments are largely to counteract the argument that Overwatch’s loot boxes contain purely cosmetic items that don’t affect the game. This is true. Unfortunately, this is not the only example of loot boxes appearing in full priced games, with numerous titles emerging in the 18 months since Overwatch sporting systems much like it that extend into gameplay altering effects.
An example of this would be Injustice 2. As you play the game, you unlock a variety of currencies based on the content that you clear which can be exchanged for item boxes. These item boxes contain pieces of randomly generated equipment for specific heroes that will alter both their appearance and their stats. Furthermore, the fanciest and best gear is most likely to come from the more valuable loot boxes… and the most valuable can be purchased for microtransactions.
Suddenly, we’ve left the cosmetic argument behind; now it’s possible to pay your way to stronger, faster characters. Yes, this won’t suddenly make you great at fighting games enough to guarantee your victory, but it will certainly provide an edge for you. Even with systems in place like character level requirements on the gear to mitigate this effect, it’s almost certain to have changed the outcome of some matches.
Another example is the upcoming Middle Earth: Shadows of War. This game has been under fire for a number of poor publisher decisions leading up to its release, one of which is the inclusion of loot boxes. Rather than equipment, you actually get Orcs from your purchases (which is bizarre to think about) which can enhance your army in both single AND multiplayer. They can also be permanently killed off in both these modes, which makes paying for them even more questionable, and yet the option exists.
The loot box system is starting to show up increasingly in places it probably has no right to, either. A competitive multiplayer game is one thing, but why are these games appearing that influence single player activities? Why should you have to gamble for equipment or cosmetics that would previously have been a reward for actually playing the game? Blizzard has grown so fond of using the system that it will likely make its way to Starcraft 2 and World of Warcraft before too long.
Once again, the argument may be made that none of these loot boxes provide anything that can’t be acquired through time and effort in the main game. Sure, to which I rebut: it doesn’t exactly speak volumes about the quality of your game activities when there are paid options to bypass large sections of it. Why should I invest my time and effort if publishers consider the game not actually worth playing, hence the means of paying to skip it?
Perhaps the cosmetic argument holds fruit in Overwatch, but as the industry forces the loot box concept down increasingly exploitative corners, the discussion quickly gets derailed. Plus, just as DLC was continually pushed more and more until it became the constant that it is, I’m almost certain that the moment precedent for loot boxes allows them to persist in their current fashion, something even worse will rear its head not long after to push it further.
So what’s the solution?
It’s difficult to say if there can be a clear solution to the loot box debacle. As much as I’m quick to speak out on it, the system has been around for multiple years in some form and is likely here to stay. Furthermore, it’s very difficult for we players to actually influence this system beyond the obvious “speak with your wallet” and not indulge. It’s easy enough to say that, but the compulsion is far stronger for some than others.
Ultimately, as much as player feedback and purchase habits will be critical, it’s also the responsibility of the developers and publishers of video games to curtail greed and instead make a system that benefits both players and businesses. It’s not like such systems don’t already exist; League of Legends is the largest game in the world, and for many years it only offered the purchase of cosmetics directly without any gambling systems. I believe their system is changing now, which is a discouraging sign of the times, but it’s proof enough that it can work nonetheless.
To close out, I’ll bring up the example of Heroes of the Storm, a game I regularly play. Earlier this year, the Heroes 2.0 update introduced a loot box system derived from Overwatch’s to the game. Prior to this update, almost all cosmetics in the game were only available for direct (and comparatively exorbitantly priced) purchase. A few would buy lots of items, some would buy a handful, but many would not spend a cent on the game.
With the advent of the loot boxes, there was suddenly a wealth of cosmetic content available to all players, regardless of monetary investment. Ultimately, it was a massive boon for the free or rarely spending players, as they could still gain a variety of previously paid for items just by playing the game and getting lucky with boxes.
But for those who previously purchased lots of items, they were suddenly left in the dark. Rather than allowing direct purchase, now these items occasionally enter a cycled “featured” list, and are only sold for money during that time bracket. You can buy them as part of bundles on their release, but they don’t come with all their colour tints as they previously did.
Otherwise? Your options are to get them from loot boxes, whether you purchase them or play to earn them. And I’ve heard of plenty of people who previously were happy to spend plenty of money on the game now closing their wallets and not supporting this practice. People who would previously pay Blizzard are now… not.
But those people who are paying Blizzard? They are doing so at the behest of an exploitative, consumer unfriendly system of gambling. The public might not have the figures to tell which of these is better for money in the long run, but I can almost certainly assure you that even if you are making money, you’re almost certainly doing so at great cost to somebody else. More importantly, you’re losing the goodwill of the players who might want to otherwise support you.
If you’re going to develop video games and be a consumer-facing business, you’ll get so much further by being open and supportive of your customers. Look after them, and they’re much more likely to look after you.
Alright, that’s enough on the subject for one day. If all goes well, the next Right Click to Zoom will appear on schedule this Friday as normal. Thanks for reading; Delf out.
Delfeir vs. the Backlog 