In the recent bestselling video game Life Is Strange, a teenage heroine gains the ability to rewind time. She uses it to solve problems, address regrets, and return to a period in her life when she was completely carefree. It’s a game that seems deliberately crafted to make the adults playing it long for their own youth.
Which is understandable. From rock bands doing farewell tours (Black Sabbath, Grateful Dead), to reboots of canceled shows (Twin Peaks, The X-Files, Gilmore Girls), nostalgia is a powerful and lucrative tool in pop culture. The Force Awakens is banking on multiple generations of adults who grew up with Star Wars wanting to experience another adventure with their childhood heroes. If a septuagenarian Han Solo can still rattle off one-liners and win firefights, there’s surely hope for everyone. But the medium of video games in particular makes it easier to profit from players’ nostalgia—and it’s threatening to take a major toll on the gaming industry’s creativity and financial stability.
Which is understandable. From rock bands doing farewell tours (Black Sabbath, Grateful Dead), to reboots of canceled shows (Twin Peaks, The X-Files, Gilmore Girls), nostalgia is a powerful and lucrative tool in pop culture. The Force Awakens is banking on multiple generations of adults who grew up with Star Wars wanting to experience another adventure with their childhood heroes. If a septuagenarian Han Solo can still rattle off one-liners and win firefights, there’s surely hope for everyone. But the medium of video games in particular makes it easier to profit from players’ nostalgia—and it’s threatening to take a major toll on the gaming industry’s creativity and financial stability.