The MMO genre is in a strange, uncomfortable place. It is popular, yes, but it has also become a space dominated by aging titans and graveyards of failed ambitions. While millions still log into World of Warcraft, Final Fantasy XIV, and a handful of other veterans, the pipeline for fresh blood has largely dried up. New projects often arrive with enormous budgets and even larger expectations, only to collapse under their own weight. Jack Emmert, a veteran designer whose career spans City of Heroes, Neverwinter, Champions Online, and Star Trek Online, has a clear diagnosis for why this keeps happening. The problem, he argues, is not that players have lost interest in massively multiplayer worlds. The problem is that publishers have lost sight of what it takes to build one.
The Myth of the Missing MMO Audience
One of the most persistent narratives in the games industry is that the audience for new MMOs simply does not exist. Emmert rejects this idea outright. In a recent interview with Gamesindustry.biz, he pointed to the commercial success of Amazon Games’ New World as clear evidence that the hunger for a modern MMO is very real. The game sold millions of copies at launch, proving that players were eager to try something new. The issue, according to Emmert, was not a lack of demand but a failure of infrastructure and long-term strategy. The game could not sustain its initial momentum, and ultimately, the publisher pulled the plug. This pattern is not unique to New World. It is a systemic problem that has plagued the genre for more than a decade. The notion that the MMO crowd has vanished is contradicted by the millions of players still active in older titles. Emmert puts it plainly when he states that the player base is there, and they are actively looking for something fresh to invest their time in. The real bottleneck is not consumer interest but the willingness and ability of publishers to deliver a product that can survive beyond its first few months.
The Curse of the WoW Killer
One of the most destructive forces in modern MMO development is the lingering specter of the so-called WoW killer. For years, publishers have poured hundreds of millions of dollars into projects designed explicitly to topple World of Warcraft from its throne. This ambition, however, has proven to be a curse. Emmert explains that the pressure to appeal to the widest possible audience leads to scope creep on a catastrophic scale. Games become bloated with features that are included not because they serve a coherent vision, but because the publisher fears that without them, the game will be seen as incomplete. The result is a product that tries to be everything to everyone and ends up being nothing special to anyone. Emmert describes these titles as being full of features but lacking any real soul. They are designed by committee, watered down by risk aversion, and ultimately fail because they do not stand for anything. The industry has seen this happen repeatedly, with high-profile flops and quietly cancelled projects serving as cautionary tales. The antidote, in Emmert’s view, is a return to discipline. Publishers need to establish reasonable budgets, set realistic projections, and commit to a distinct creative vision. They need to stop trying to beat World of Warcraft at its own game and start making games that know what they want to be.
Neverwinter as a Case Study in Restraint
To illustrate his point, Emmert draws on his own experience developing Neverwinter. When that game was being built, the team did not obsess over how it would differentiate itself from World of Warcraft. There was no frantic effort to include a housing system, a crafting economy, or any of the other features that a major publisher might have demanded. Instead, the focus was simply on making the core experience work. Emmert recalls that he never worried about competitors or about finding some magical X factor that would make the game stand out. He just focused on delivering a solid, enjoyable MMO that captured the essence of what the team was trying to build. The result was a game that found its audience and has remained operational for years. This approach stands in stark contrast to the way many modern MMOs are developed, where publishers insist on a laundry list of features that are meant to check boxes rather than serve a unified design philosophy. Emmert’s argument is that players do not need a game to have a bajillion things. They need a game that works, that has a clear identity, and that respects their time. The pressure to add more and more features often comes from publishers who are looking for a competitive edge, but this strategy backfires more often than it succeeds.
The Anthem Parallel and the Cost of Dysfunction
The problems Emmert describes are not limited to traditional MMOs. They can be seen in virtually any live-service game that suffers from a lack of clear direction. The development of Anthem, for example, was marked by a highly dysfunctional relationship with decision-making. Former BioWare producer Mark Darrah has spoken about how the ability for mechs to fly was added very late in development, almost as an afterthought, because the team was scrambling to find a hook that would differentiate the game. This chaotic approach to design is a direct result of the same pressures that Emmert identifies. Publishers want a game that can dominate the market, so they push for big, flashy features without considering how those features fit into the overall experience. The result is a game that feels disjointed and unfinished. In the case of Anthem, it led to a title that had moments of brilliance but could never find a stable footing. The parallels to the MMO space are striking. Both genres have suffered from an obsession with scope and a reluctance to commit to a focused vision. The lesson is that a game does not need to reinvent the wheel to be successful. It needs to have a clear sense of what it is and the discipline to execute on that vision without being distracted by the pressure to compete with giants.
The Lean and Sustainable Alternative
One of the most compelling points Emmert raises is that a game does not need millions of active players to be profitable. A title with a dedicated player base of ten thousand people can be a perfectly viable business if it is built on a reasonable budget and managed with realistic expectations. The problem is that many publishers are not willing to accept that level of success. They see a game with ten thousand players as a failure, even if it is generating steady revenue. This mindset leads to premature shutdowns and missed opportunities. A leaner, more modest version of New World, for example, might have been able to thrive with a smaller audience. The publisher, however, was likely looking for numbers that would justify the enormous investment, and when those numbers did not materialize, the game was deemed a failure. Emmert’s argument is that the industry needs to recalibrate its definition of success. Not every MMO needs to be the next World of Warcraft. Some can be smaller, sustainable projects that serve a dedicated community for years. The key is for publishers to set reasonable expectations from the start and to resist the temptation to inflate both the budget and the scope of the project. If the industry can learn to embrace a humbler approach, the genre might finally be able to produce a steady stream of new titles that can survive and grow over time.
Players Are Ready, Publishers Must Adapt
At the heart of Emmert’s critique is a simple but powerful insight. The players are not the obstacle. They have demonstrated time and again that they are willing to show up for new MMOs when those games are well-made and clearly conceived. The obstacle is an industry structure that rewards excessive ambition and punishes restraint. Publishers have become so focused on chasing the next billion-dollar hit that they have lost the ability to recognize a healthy, sustainable project when they see one. The result is a genre that is simultaneously thriving in its established corners and starving for innovation elsewhere. If the MMO space is to enter a new era of creativity and growth, it will require a shift in mindset at the highest levels of publishing. It will require executives who are comfortable with smaller numbers, who trust their developers to execute a focused vision, and who are willing to let a game find its audience organically rather than forcing it to compete on terms it was never designed to meet. The demand is there. The talent is there. What is missing is the institutional patience to let something new grow without demanding that it be the biggest thing in the world on day one.
