Here’s a piece of trivia that doesn’t quite fit the doom-and-gloom narrative you hear about the “indiepocalypse.” More indie games reached significant, measurable success on Steam in 2024 than ever before. A record 445 unique titles reached the prized level of achieving 1,000 user reviews—a good measure of commercial health—representing a whopping 25% increase from the 354 that did so in 2023.
More winners. More success stories. More developers popping champagne. Whoa. Okay, let’s talk about this, because that report outlines something I think we’ve all been feeling for a while now, even if we couldn’t put numbers on it. It’s this weird paradox, right? We’re at an age of gaming gold with more great things to play than ever, and yet somehow also a disorganized, over-the-top mess.
It’s as if you’re standing in front of a firehose. You want to have just a drink of water, but you’re being pummeled with a thousand gallons a second.
Drowning is the New Normal
That fundamental point just resonates so much: increasing numbers of games are “winning,” but the chance that any one game will win is actually going down. It beautifully captures why our Steam backlogs exist as a graveyard of good intentions and why we keep hearing about fantastic-looking indie titles that just vanish.
Think about this. Fifty-one new titles. Every. Single. Day. That’s not a market; that’s an inundation.
The advice that comes out of it, we’ve always been told, “Be special! Be new!” But the numbers are showing the opposite. It’s not “No, let’s do something new.” It’s “No, let’s be a better version of something people already care about.” Need to be successful? Create a better Stardew Valley. Create a more intelligent Slay the Spire. It is so counterintuitive, almost cynical-sounding, but it completely works.
You’re not just selling a game; you’re leaning into a pre-existing base that’s begging for more of what they already know they love. You’re starting off at third base instead of the batter’s box. The world of crypto betting sites also reflects this intense competition, with new platforms emerging every other day, all vying for users’ attention.
Such platforms take advantage of the platform’s decentralized nature to design unique experiences, typically complete with higher anonymity and faster transactions. However, with the pervasiveness of these systems, standing out from the pack is greater than an issue of newness; it requires improved user experience, robust security, and sometimes innovative options to entice and retain players in a saturated market.
The Arks: Sony, Microsoft, and Nintendo
If Steam is this untamed open ocean, then the console makers are building these enormous, air-conditioned biodomes. And I appreciate how the report describes their plans because it is so accurate to how it feels to play on their platforms.
Sony’s PlayStation is basically akin to HBO. They’re selling you these massive, can’t-miss TV-like experiences. God of War, Final Fantasy VII Rebirth. You buy a PlayStation for those games. They are the appointment viewing of the gaming world. Everything else is just filler to watch between seasons.
Microsoft’s Xbox is totally Netflix. It’s the “What do you want to watch tonight?” model. You don’t boot up Game Pass for something specific; you boot it up to browse. The value isn’t in any single game but in the sheer, overwhelming buffet of options. It’s a brilliant solution to the flood: don’t take one bottle of water, just subscribe to the whole reservoir.
And then there’s Nintendo. They’re not even in the same business, are they? They’re like LEGO. They’ve got a couple of completely gigantic, timeless brands, and they just continually reimagine them for every new generation. They don’t care about the flood because they’ve built their own fairy-tale island kingdom high, high above sea level, and we’re all happy to pay for a ticket to go and holiday awhile.
It’s not who’s with the better box anymore. It’s an ideological war. Are you paying for a library, buying event tickets, or collecting a classic hobby?
The Impossible Job of Being an Indie Masterpiece
Okay, Hollow Knight: Silksong and Hades II. To see them succeed is admirable and, in a certain sense, hugely intimidating. Silksong is simply a testament to the power of patience.
Team Cherry played the long game. They constructed such a work of art with the initial Hollow Knight that the hype surrounding the sequel was a force of nature unto itself. It was the most wishlisted game on Steam for years. They essentially constructed a dam of hype the size of a mountain, and when they finally opened the spigot, the flood of players that ensued was just enormous. It wasn’t a launch; it was a coronation.
Hades II did something else entirely, but no less brilliant. Supergiant has such confidence in their players that they could virtually say, “Hey, watch us make the sausage.” Their Early Access was not a beta test; it was an experience shared. It turned the entire player base into part of the development story. When the “real” launch came about, it felt like a party for a game that was already a success that everyone cared for.
But this is the whispered, awful part: every single one of them was a sequel. They were standing on giants’ shoulders—giants they themselves had built. With a brand-new game from a brand-new dev house? To achieve that kind of breakout success out of nowhere. The odds are astronomical.
The Human Cost and the Coming Titans
All these market forces, all this data. It means anxiety in the real world and career opportunities lost. The craft beer comparison is fitting. At one time, it appeared as if anyone with a good recipe and a passion for brewing could open a small taproom. Now, the store shelves in the supermarket are full, and people are playing it safe. It’s the same in gaming. The “middle class” of game studios are being pushed out. You can make a beautiful, award-winning game and lose your business anyway. That’s terrifying. And then there’s the shadow on the horizon.
Grand Theft Auto VI. It is not a game. It is a phenomenon so enormous that it’s bending the entire industry to its will. Other publishers aren’t merely attempting to skirt around competing with it; they’re attempting to skirt around being vaporized by its existence. For months prior to and subsequent to its release, GTA VI won’t merely be the largest game; it’ll be the sole topic of conversation. It’s the T-Rex in the food chain, and the rest of us are merely mammals attempting to avoid getting in its path. So, what do we do?
All right, so this all sounds a bit dire, but it’s not gloom and doom. It simply means we, as gamers, have to be smarter. We can’t simply sit idly by while the algorithm dictates our next big game because that will provide us with what’s popular today. We have to be our own curators. The recommendation towards the end of the report is pure gold.
Use the tools: Learning about something like SteamDB to examine what’s actually being played, as opposed to what’s actually being sold, is a complete game-changer. Find your niche: Listen to those smaller streamers who game the weird stuff you love. They’re actually the tastemakers now. Be patient: That “7-Day Rule” is pure genius. Let the dust settle. If a game is truly awesome, it’ll still be awesome a week post-release, and you’ll have a much better sense of whether it’s worth your time and cash.
The flood is not going away. We cannot stop it. But we can learn to navigate it better. The titans will be fun, but the real joy comes from discovering those great little islands of imagination that are so desperately trying to stay afloat. We just have to be willing to look for them.
