Paying to Play: Clean Bargains, Intrusions, and Dirty Tricks in the Video Game Industry

 

After writing about how video games have made money over the years, I found myself paying more attention to something I had mostly taken for granted.

Not monetization itself.

The way monetization is presented.

For most of my life, I never thought much about paying for games. You bought a game, brought it home, and played it. If there was an expansion pack later, you decided whether it was worth buying. The transaction happened, and then the game began.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that not all forms of monetization feel the same. Some barely register. Others leave me vaguely annoyed. And some make me feel like someone is trying to get one over on me.

Eventually, I found myself sorting these experiences into three categories: clean bargains, intrusions, and dirty tricks.

I don’t think these categories are official. They’re simply a framework that has helped me make sense of what I’ve been seeing.

Let’s start with the clean bargain.

A clean bargain is exactly what it sounds like.

Here is the thing.

Here is the price.

Do you want it?

An arcade quarter was a clean bargain. A monthly MMO subscription was a clean bargain. An expansion pack was a clean bargain. Even a Shark Card in Grand Theft Auto Online is, in my opinion, a clean bargain.

The value exchange is obvious. The player understands what they are getting and what they are paying.

The player may decide the offer is worthwhile or not worthwhile, but the offer itself is clear.

Importantly, the transaction ends.

The player buys the thing, and then returns to playing the game.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that many of the monetization systems that bother me are not actually dirty tricks at all.

They are something else.

They are intrusions.

An intrusion is when monetization enters the player’s attention, even if it isn’t deceptive.

Suppose I launch a game and see an advertisement for a sequel.

That’s an intrusion.

Perhaps I am playing Battlefield 2042 and the game reminds me that Battlefield 6 exists. Perhaps I log into Grand Theft Auto Online and see a promotion for GTA+.

These things interrupt the experience, but they are not necessarily dishonest.

The game is asking for my attention, but it is not trying to trick me.

The reason I think this distinction matters is because it separates annoyance from manipulation.

Not everything annoying is a dirty trick.

Some things are simply interruptions.

Then we arrive at the third category.

Dirty tricks.

A dirty trick is not merely an advertisement.

A dirty trick is an attempt to increase revenue without increasing value.

Often this is accomplished by taking advantage of predictable human behavior.

Sometimes the examples are obvious.

A subscription that is easy to start but difficult to cancel.

A popup that is easy to open but strangely difficult to dismiss.

Multiple layers of premium currency that make it difficult to know how much something actually costs.

Loot boxes that obscure the relationship between money spent and value received.

These systems are different from clean bargains because the value exchange becomes harder to see.

The system is no longer simply presenting an offer.

It is trying to influence behavior.

This is where concepts such as dark patterns and sludge enter the conversation.

A dark pattern is a user interface designed to make people do something they would not otherwise choose to do.

Sludge is friction that makes an action unnecessarily difficult.

Both can increase revenue.

Neither necessarily increases value.

Once I learned these terms, I started noticing them everywhere.

Not just in games.

In subscriptions.

In software.

In streaming services.

In online shopping.

In modern life generally.

What fascinates me is that many of these systems seem designed to solve a very specific problem.

How do we make more money from the same customer?

That is not an unreasonable question for a business to ask.

But the answer matters.

One company might create a better product.

Another might make cancellation more difficult.

Both may increase revenue.

Only one has increased value.

This brings me back to games.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about why some monetization systems bother me more than others.

At first I thought the answer was simple: monetization makes games worse.

But that doesn’t hold up under scrutiny.

There are monetization systems I don’t mind at all.

Some I actively support.

The real distinction seems to be whether the system preserves trust.

A clean bargain preserves trust.

An intrusion spends a little of it.

A dirty trick damages it.

And trust matters because trust reduces mental overhead.

When I trust a company, I don’t have to constantly watch my back.

I don’t have to wonder whether a button does what it appears to do. I don’t have to study three different currencies to figure out the real price of something. I don’t have to remember to cancel a service before a hidden renewal date arrives.

I can focus on the thing I came for in the first place.

The game.

This is why I find myself increasingly interested in monetization systems that remain outside the core experience.

Buy the game.

Buy the expansion.

Pay the subscription.

Then let me play.

The transaction and the experience remain separate.

The bargain is clear.

The trust remains intact.

And perhaps most importantly, my attention remains focused on the reason I showed up in the first place.

To have fun.

The next time you encounter a monetization system in a game, try asking yourself a simple question:

Is this a clean bargain, an intrusion, or a dirty trick?

You may find yourself seeing things a little differently.