Shigeru Miyamoto is busier than ever these days. Just a few months removed from his 70th birthday, he’s leaning into his role as Nintendo’s jovial mascot as he promotes the upcoming Super Mario Bros. Movie and other projects. Last week he cut the figurative red ribbon on Super Nintendo World in Universal Studios Hollywood, marking the second expansion of Nintendo’s ambitious theme park. If he’s stressed by the workload, he doesn’t show it. He leans forward on a couch in a private lounge surroun

Xbox couldn't have imagined it would be where it is right now when it first laid out its roadmap for the current generation. Led by Xbox Game Pass and massive acquisitions, the Xbox Series X|S was supposed to reverse Microsoft's dire fortunes from the previous generation while changing how we play games. But while the Xbox Series X|S has certainly been a marked improvement, other factors have made this generation more than a struggle for Xbox than expected. Speaking with IGN in a brand-new inte

On July 28, hundreds of Activision Blizzard employees gathered at the gates of Blizzard’s campus under the hot Irvine, California sun. Many were seeing each other for the first time in months. Many others were meeting for the first time, having been brought together by what has become an extraordinary week of direct action. Throughout that week, IGN has spoken to seven past and present Activision Blizzard employees, building a clearer picture not just of its deeply troubled working culture, but

Most new parents will tell you that taking care of an infant is the most exhausting thing you can possibly do. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for Josef Fares, the director of the popular co-op game A Way Out and the man who once yelled, “Fuck the Oscars,” at The Game Awards. Fares, who is the newly minted father of a 4-month-old daughter, is fairly brimming with energy as he sits in a conference room at his studio in Sweden. Fares has just completed work on It Takes Two, a co-op adventure

I've never been particularly interested in being a parent. It's a personal decision that has occasionally put me at odds with my friends and society at large, and maybe one of the biggest reasons that I've never really identified with Joel, the patriarch of the so-called "sad dad" prestige genre that PlayStation has made so famous. It made it more difficult for me to feel The Last of Us' emotional heft, even if I could recognize its excellence on an intellectual level. [...] Bearing this in mind, the final product is excellent—one of the handful of triple-A action games this generation to genuinely gets it emotional hooks into me. I went in wondering whether I ultimately cared very much about Joel and Ellie's arc, and I came out caring very much indeed.

In ways large and small, the Dreamcast has affected the way that we see video games. It was a bridge between gaming's classical period and the modern era that would follow. It was a console that was ahead of its time; a platform for daring creators and even more daring ideas. It's easy to romanticize the Dreamcast because it was an underdog, and because it was so short-lived, ultimately lasting only two years. But even if we go a little far at times in lionizing its legacy, it continues to be the standard by which Sega is measured. And more importantly, it represents a key turning point in gaming history.

Final Fantasy 8 was the first RPG I ever broke. I broke it so hard that I could one-shot the boss waiting at the end of Disc One. And I loved it. It was my Final Fantasy; my sentimental favorite game in the series I say "sentimental favorite" because saying "best" is bound to raise some eyebrows. Final Fantasy 8 has its share of defenders, but few will go to bat for it in the same way they will for Final Fantasy 4, 5, 6, 7, or hell, pretty much any other game in the series. For better or worse, Final Fantasy 8 is seemingly doomed to remain Not Final Fantasy 7—the eternal black sheep. But 20 years after its original release in Japan, it might be time to finally reevaluate. It might finally be time to stand up and say that, yes, this weird, experimental, and most damningly, different, RPG deserves to be considered more than a sentimental favorite. It may even be time to say what was once unthinkable: Final Fantasy 8 is great. Well, alright... maybe great is too strong. Final Fantasy 8 is good.

In an unassuming neighborhood roughly 40 minutes south of San Francisco, there is a garage that appears to be part of your typical industrial park. You'd never know it by the look of it, but it's one of the last vestiges of what was once a thriving American arcade scene. Every weekend, dozens of hobbyists descend upon this location to play Super Smash Bros. Melee, Guilty Gear Xrd, and a host of obscure anime fighting games. They are there to train, to play in tournaments, or just to hang out with friends. The tiny space is packed with arcade cabinets, tables hosting monitors and laptops, and players, many of whom spill out into the area outside of the garage to socialize between games. In the back office is Myung Kim, the founder of what the community has come to call Gamecenter Mk. III. By day, Kim is one of many software engineers making a living in Silicon Valley. On weekends, though, he retreats to the space he created to play games, work on side projects, and spend time with other arcade enthusiasts. What separates Kim's space from the various other "second wave" retro arcades and barcades that have cropped up around the country is that he's not looking to attract customers. Quite the opposite, actually: he'd rather keep his little slice of heaven away from the prying eyes of the public. He organizes events on a private Facebook group, declines to share his venue's location, and asks that any newcomers be vouched for by an established regular. He's not the only one, either. Having accepted that arcades as we once knew them are dead, hobbyists are renting spaces or hosting events out of their own homes in an effort to gather with like-minded enthusiasts. This is the third wave of arcade fandom: the final resting place for an American industry that has long since perished, but still has plenty of survivors.

A little more than fifteen years ago, Blizzard North set to work on what would become one of the most popular and enduring action RPGs ever - Diablo II. Finally stable after the success of Diablo, Blizzard North looked to create an even bigger sequel. The project's principals included David Brevik, Max Schaefer, and Erich Schaefer - Blizzard North's co-founders and the designers of the original game. They eventually found themselves mired in an overwhelming project, one in which they found thems