In a July 2025 shareholders` meeting, Ubisoft CEO Yves Guillemot made a clear and undeniable point about online video games: “You provide a service, but nothing is written in stone, and at some point, the service may be discontinued. Nothing is eternal.” He further emphasized that “support for all games cannot last forever.”
This statement was in direct response to the “Stop Killing Games” movement, a consumer initiative protesting what they perceive as “planned obsolescence” in online video games by publishers. This movement, ignited by the shutdown of Ubisoft`s The Crew, has gained significant traction over the past year, particularly through petitions directed at various European governments.
While Guillemot`s comments might sound dismissive—akin to a politician sidestepping constituent concerns about healthcare by simply citing the inevitability of mortality—they underscore a rarely acknowledged reality in the industry: the finite lifespan of modern live-service games. Publishers and studios seldom publicly admit that their online titles will eventually conclude, often waiting until the very last moment to announce a shutdown. It`s uncommon for an executive to openly acknowledge that their online game will, one day, come to an end.
Whenever a company launches a video game, all involved stakeholders inherently hope the title will make a lasting impact. Newly launched online games, in particular, aspire to become the “forever game” for as many players as possible—envisioning themselves as the next Fortnite or Destiny 2. These days, online games are engaged in a relentless and unending pursuit of an unknown and elusive finish line. However, as demonstrated by titles like Concord, MultiVersus, and XDefiant, among countless others, becoming the next massive success is an immense uphill battle, perhaps even unfeasible under current market conditions.
The numerous failures of games aiming to dethrone giants like Genshin Impact, Call of Duty, or Destiny lead me to ponder the “forever games” that continue to thrive. Will we truly be playing Fortnite Chapter 30 Season 4 in our twilight years, streamed from the cloud via data centers on Mars?
If we all genuinely accept the “nothing is eternal” comment, then Fortnite will not literally last forever. One day, perhaps in the absurdly distant future, Epic Games will cease adding new content to Fortnite. Some number of years later, Fortnite will go offline, and the game as we knew it will be effectively dead.
Companies might be able to stop actively “killing” games, but that won`t prevent games from eventually dying. Therefore, those responsible for creating online games should at least consider how they will grant their creations a merciful and graceful death when the time comes.
Nintendo—a company not typically renowned for its online titles—did something rather unique before releasing Splatoon 3: it gave the game a clear endpoint. The shooting game would only receive two years of seasonal content, including new maps, weapons, and clothes, though the game itself would very much remain playable thereafter.
I recall experiencing a range of emotions while playing Splatoon 3. Having an explicit expiration date for new content was conflicting. At first, playing it felt somewhat meaningless; I knew that, despite whatever level of success or popularity it achieved, Nintendo was already planning to move on, just as it had with Super Mario Maker 2 and Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Yet, unlike those two other cases, Nintendo was remarkably clear upfront about the level of support Splatoon 3 would receive.
From my own experience, those two years with Splatoon 3 were immensely meaningful and special—knowing how long the game would remain fresh motivated me to experience as much of that time as possible. And the fact that it received a Switch 2 update with new weapons, extending beyond the two-year limit, served as a pleasant surprise.
But what about a case like Mortal Kombat 1? Upon its release, game director Ed Boon sometimes spoke of “years of content” for the fighting game. So, when the news broke about this “Definitive Edition,” which would feature less than two years of content, including 12 new characters and a story expansion, it produced outrage from fans. After all, that`s roughly the same amount of new content—and just a few months short—of the support the preceding game, Mortal Kombat 11, received.
To fans dissatisfied with the state of MK1, this perceived death of the game felt premature. It`s an example of how the “fairness” of a video game`s end-of-life support is ultimately defined by the intricate relationship between the developers` transparency and the consumers` expectations. Perhaps NetherRealm Studios wasn`t candid enough about the intended lifespan of MK1, but players might also have expected too much—how many more characters did that game truly need? Still, any imbalance on either side of that developer-player relationship can lead to a significant public relations nightmare.
Despite video games offering more than enough inherent “game,” today`s business models have consumers constantly yearning for more. These games need to be continuously supported, improved, and iterated upon; otherwise, they`re quickly labeled a “dead game.” Yet, simultaneously, we hear cries that online games are becoming overly bloated, rooted in the fear of missing out (FOMO), and are transforming into second jobs.
To escape either of these pitfalls, developers of a live game could make it explicitly clear from the start that their service will only have, say, three years of new content. While this might initially sting to hear, I`d argue that it could make those three years incredibly impactful and cherished.
Developers can maintain focus with a clear goal in mind and then confidently move on to the next project afterward. Players, in turn, can have proper expectations, knowing they have something quantifiable and solid to look forward to without needing to devote an indefinite amount of time. It`s an option that might not immediately make investors happy, but it`s certainly not one that companies should dismiss.
There lies the crucial distinction, however, because at least Splatoon 3 and Mortal Kombat 1 are still fully playable online. The more challenging conversations arise when those online services cease entirely, rendering the game unplayable.
With the total shutdown of a live-service game, especially one like The Crew, where digital licenses are completely stripped away, there are significant legal and financial ramifications. Since the genesis of the “Stop Killing Games” movement, there has been no shortage of intense internet debates surrounding these issues. But from a moral and philosophical standpoint, what does the complete shuttering of a game truly mean for its legacy and its players?
As simple and true as Guillemot`s point might be, it doesn`t actually address one of the bigger concerns from the “Stop Killing Games” movement, which is the crucial need for preservation and additional end-of-life options. When a video game becomes completely unplayable in any form, that is the ultimate, certain death.
The possible solutions for averting such a complete demise are not groundbreaking: implementing offline modes, like with Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League, and providing private server support, as seen with Knockout City, are viable options. However, these solutions require considerable time, labor, and devotion to implement, and as developers will attest, they are not easy to accomplish.
Yet, the industry must fundamentally rethink the path it is on—a path where it has conditioned players into expecting endless content, and any gap or shortcoming instantly spells a game`s “death.” We have to envision a time when Fortnite concerts will be a thing of the past, and Destiny 2 genuinely reaches a final, definitive shape. This broader existential issue of end-of-life for video games, and how to make it palatable for consumers, is something that game makers must seriously consider, and soon. The notion of “forever” is rapidly running out.