The One About People

This weeks newsletter isn’t about video games, it’s about people.

As I stare at the blank page in front of me attempting to find the right words to convey a complex array of emotions that swirl around the discombobulated portions of my brain I’m left struggling to tuck all of my thoughts into nicely organized bins. This week saw a massive blow to the games media landscape as two institutional pillars were dismantled, leaving very little left to keep this whole thing from crumbling down. Polygon and Giantbomb weren’t just brands ripe for corporations to pluck the fruits of their labor and suck them dry, but were a collection of people past and present that shaped an entire generation of critics, voices, and fans.

This wasn’t some forgone conclusion that had to happen, this wasn’t an inevitable probability by some data driven spreadsheet, this was nothing less than incessant corporate greed and a fundamental misunderstanding from management. How many more companies will fumble the bag leaving the people, the heart and souls of these places cast out on the street without work? How many more layoffs and callous cuts have to happen before something changes? How do we move forward from any of this?

I don’t pretend to have all of the answers, but i do know that no one is going to look out for us besides each other. It won’t solve our problems, and it won’t magically make us all money, but supporting work —especially from those you admire and love —is the only way to keep the spirit of all of this alive.

This is going to be a long one, so buckle up.

Giantbomb Forever

It’s been difficult to process a world in which this website doesn’t exist, at least in the form we’ve grown to know and love, but I’m going to try my best to sort through my feelings here.

I initially started watching Giantbomb as I sat in the bedroom of my first apartment back in 2017. In fact, it’s the same room I’m writing this newsletter from. A random Bombcast episode came across my YouTube recommendations, a video of strange internet people I did not know, but I watched it in my room alone on a random weeknight. Shortly after the almost three hour episode concluded, I loaded up another one, and another, and another.

Giantbomb quickly became a staple in the podcast rotation. Eventually moving on to other content they were making, especially the GB East stuff. Playdates and the Beastcast dominated my watch time and I thought it was so cool to have something like this based out of New York, the city I’d grown up in my entire life.

Years went by and Giantbomb content was a constant that got me through almost everything in my life. These voices in my earbuds on subways, planes, trains, and those lonely nights we’ve all been through.

In fact, the first time I learned of Michael Higham, —someone who would go on to be one of my best friends years later— was on a random Bombcast episode recounting the fighting game tournament EVO.

The company went through shakeups post pandemic, a thing that happened to many folks as the pandemic lingered, the burnout, isolation, and plenty of other factors created new shifts. The newest iteration of the crew would be the ones I would eventually meet in person in 2022, a group that welcomed me into their space during the Giant Bombathon in a Brooklyn hotel room.

I’d be in the industry for a bit now, but it was largely due to the inspiration that listening to Giantbomb content instilled in me. The idea that there was nothing else that i wanted to do with my life.

I grew up pretty privileged. My parents always supported me in whatever my aspirations were, and I was always given the freedom to figure things out. But for the early parts of my life I constantly felt directionless, even if I didn’t let that show. The truth was, I never truly knew what I wanted to do with my life.

I graduated from college with a degree in Arts Management and fundraising. However, all I wanted was to be in the video game space, doing what Giantbomb did. I wanted to talk about games, challenge ideas, and build something with a group of friends.

That day in 2022 would go on to be one of the most important days of my life. It was the day that solidified that this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and I owe that to Giantbomb and the warmth they showed me. For the first time in my life I felt something I hadn’t previously, direction.

After that I would go on to appear on the Giant Bombcast, the very same podcast I had grown to admire. I would take on the moniker of Young Elmo for live events, streams, and whatever else the crew would want me there for.

I had woven into the fabric of the Giant Bomb continuum in a way that I had only ever dreamed of. I got to finally sit on that E3 (SGF) couch twice. All of the content I loved watching for years, I was now a small part of, occasionally, but it was more than a stupid kid from Long Island could ever dream of.

Despite many folks coming and going from the website about video games, it’s always been about the people. The folks who are the soul of website. A brand is nothing without the people that make it something, and corporations will never be able to fill the shoes without them.

I feel the need to give a few special shoutouts to two people who made the life I have now possible.

Jan Ochoa, the best producer in the biz is someone I owe countless thanks to. A Twitter mutual turned real life friend. Jan invited me to that Brooklyn Bombathon and has been a constant source of support and kind words. All of this would have never happened without him and he deserves all of the flowers. Dan Ryckert, the bits mastermind. I’ve never met someone who is always thinking leagues ahead on a funny bit and someone who has helped me come into my own. His ability to instill confidence in the people around him, giving them a space to grow and change for the better. Dan’s kindness knows no bounds and he has been instrumental in helping navigate my career and has always been an ear to listen and a voice to be one of my biggest cheerleaders.

To Grubb, Shawn, Niki, Tam, Lucy, Bakalar, and Minotti, thanks for letting me on this wild ride. Y’all are real ones who have always put up with my bullshit. I appreciate y’all and wish nothing but the best. I know I’ll be seeing y’all around.

The legacy left by these folks and the ones that came before them will never be forgotten. The lives they have changed will not be forgotten, and there will forever be a couchless shaped void at future game’s events.

Giantbomb was not a collection of content. It was a group of people, inspiration points strung across the timeline of games media. A group that so many of us owe a lot to. So thanks for everything Giantbomb.

The most apt way to finish this thing off is with a series of pictures. So please enjoy.

Giantbomb forever

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Support each other, and see y’all next week.

Love y’all.