Remember when Star Citizen was supposed to launch in 2014?
I do. I backed the game years ago with a basic package, then walked away. I wasn’t angry or frustrated, I just… waited. Patiently. While the internet exploded with think pieces about vaporware and Chris Roberts’ “galactic-scale incompetence,” I checked in occasionally, shrugged, and went about my life.
A decade later, I’m still here. Still not mad. I think I’ve figured out why.
The Mindset That Changes Everything
Here’s the thing nobody talks about: I don’t think Star Citizen is in alpha. I think it’s in pre-alpha. A state that exists before alpha even begins.
That might sound like I’m making excuses for the delays. I’m not.
Most alphas last three to six months. A year is pushing it. Star Citizen has been in “alpha” for over a decade. That’s not an alpha. A development state that doesn’t have a proper name because most games never publicly exist in it this long.
By looking at it this way in my head, I’ve given myself realistic expectations. And realistic expectations are the difference between spending ten years angry online and spending ten years occasionally curious about what’s next.
Yes, It Was Mismanaged (Let’s Not Pretend Otherwise)
Look, we can be honest here. The evidence is overwhelming.
Forbes talked to twenty former employees who described the development as suffering from “incompetence and mismanagement on a galactic scale.” Of the $288 million raised by 2019, only $14 million remained by the end of 2017. That burn rate is staggering for a project that hasn’t been released yet. Cloud Imperium Games repeatedly needed new waves of ship sales just to stay solvent.
The numbers tell the story clearly enough:
Star Citizen has raised over $800+ million across twelve-plus years. Compare that to Red Dead Redemption 2, $540 million and eight years for a complete, shipped game. Or GTA V, $265 million and five years. Or Cyberpunk 2077, roughly $300 million and eight years for a full release, rocky as it was.
Star Citizen has the highest budget and longest development time of any game ever made. Without delivering a finished product.
The most used excuse: “They’re making something that has never been made before.” While I find it interesting this excuse ignores what former employees have stated, this is not the only evidence of mismanagement.
Here’s Where It Gets Interesting
In June 2014, there was a community vote. Should Star Citizen continue adding stretch goals, or lock scope and ship the game?
Only 35,243 people voted out of roughly 480,000 backer accounts at the time. That’s about 7% of backers deciding the fate of the project. And 55% of those voters said yes, keep adding features.
Chris Roberts told everyone this wouldn’t delay the game. He promised the new stretch goals would be “truly additive” and wouldn’t slow down the core development.
The original release window? October 2014.
Ironically, when Roberts made those reassurances, the project was already slipping past that target. The stretch goals became a convenient explanation for delays that were happening anyway. Feature creep layered on top of production chaos, leadership bottlenecks, and an engine that kept getting rewritten.
The decision was made. What’s done is done.
The Machine That Feeds Itself
The project wasn’t run to ship a game. It was run to share information, generate excitement, and encourage backers to contribute more money.
Think about it. Alphas don’t create this much content. They don’t hold massive conventions like CitizenCon. They don’t have weekly video updates and elaborate ship commercials. The goal of an alpha is singular: ship the game. Not promote it. Not monetize it. Ship it.
Star Citizen became something different. A development cycle fueled by ship sales, concept art reveals, and the promise of what’s coming next. The priority was feeding the machine that brings in the money, not reaching 1.0.
And yes, I know, “it’s open development! They’re being transparent!” But… transparency doesn’t mean the priorities are right. You can show people a process that’s fundamentally broken.
The Developers Are Just Doing Their Jobs
Here’s something that gets lost in all the online rage: the developers aren’t the problem.
They’re not the ones who decided to add 100 star systems before finishing one. They’re not the ones who chose to rewrite the engine mid-development or restart the flight model for the third time. They’re just showing up to work, trying to build impossible things under constantly shifting priorities.
Former employees have described the environment as a cycle of constant rewrites, leadership micromanagement, approval bottlenecks, lack of stable production pipelines. That’s exhausting. People burn out. Senior staff leave. LinkedIn updates tell the story that press releases won’t.
There were no big public layoffs like we’ve seen at Ubisoft or EA. But there were waves of departures: AI programmers, animation leads, network engineers, studio directors. Around 2019–2021, CIG restructured teams. Manchester became the primary hub. LA shifted to marketing. Austin reduced its footprint. These reorganizations come with quiet staff reductions, even if they’re never called layoffs.
The developers may be as frustrated as the angriest backers. Maybe more. They’re living it.
So Why Am I Still Cautiously Excited?
Because it seems like they’ve learned. Maybe.
Recent progress is promising. The monthly reports from late 2025 show a studio that’s stabilizing. Finalizing long-running features. Preparing new star systems. Improving AI, missions, engineering gameplay. Moving ships through the pipeline more efficiently.
This is the kind of work you see when a studio is trying to mature its processes.
Squadron 42 is reportedly targeting 2026. Chris Roberts said he hopes it’ll be “almost as big an event as GTA 6.” That’s either delusional or a sign they’re finally serious about releasing something.
Plus, I love the redemption arc. Everyone makes mistakes, right?
If Star Citizen actually releases to 1.0, there isn’t another game like it. Not even close.
The Content Creator Problem Nobody Talks About
There’s something people haven’t thought about when it comes to this game: a significant portion of the loudest voices in the Star Citizen community are content creators who make their living from the game.
Think about that for a second.
If you run a YouTube channel or Twitch stream built around Star Citizen, you need content. You need drama. You need new ships to review, new patches to test, controversies to discuss. Stagnation is your enemy because stagnation means you’ll lose viewers.
So when a patch gets delayed or a promised feature gets pushed back again, you’re not just disappointed as a player. You’re watching your livelihood take a hit. That creates pressure to generate content anyway. Sometimes that means highlighting problems. Or manufacturing outrage. Maybe you’ll find yourself hyping up minor updates as major breakthroughs.
Remember, this game is in pre-alpha because normal alphas don’t last this long. Go look at the content they make. The conversations they are starting. It’s like the game is released, isn’t it?
I’m not saying these creators are being dishonest. Most genuinely care about the game. But… there’s an inherent conflict of interest when your mortgage payment depends on Star Citizen remaining relevant and engaging.
The community mirrors this energy. When prominent creators are frustrated, their audiences get frustrated. When creators hype new features, the community gets hyped. It creates a feedback loop that doesn’t necessarily reflect what the average backer (like me, who checked in once every few months for years) actually feels.
Ironically, the people who seem most exhausted by Star Citizen are often the ones who are financially dependent on it. That’s a tough spot to be in, and it distorts the conversation on what we should expect from Star Citizen.
That includes the employees who are catching it from both sides (from within the company and from backers, viewers, content creators, etc.).
The Elephant in the Room (Let’s Address It)
Yes, people spend absurd amounts of money on this game. Thousands, even tens of thousands of dollars for a product that hasn’t been released yet.
Star Citizen was the first game to do this at this scale. Now? Where Winds Meet has a $40,000 boat. Times have changed. There are people who spend serious money on video games, period.
Who am I to tell them how to spend their money? As long as they understand they don’t own these digital items, that when the servers eventually shut down, everything disappears. What’s the point of having money if you don’t use it for things that make you happy?
What You’ll See From Me
A neutral stance on what gets released. Not blind optimism or cynical rage. Just cautious interest in what comes next.
I remember the project was mismanaged. I remember the broken promises. I remember the 2014 vote that maybe 7% of backers participated in, and how the outcome shaped everything that followed.
I also remember the developers are just trying to do their jobs. That Squadron 42’s success or failure might determine whether Star Citizen ever reaches 1.0 at all. Despite $800 million in funding, there are reports of developers feeling like “funding is drying up.”
How ironic is that? The most expensive game ever made, running on fumes because it never actually shipped anything to generate traditional revenue.
Why This Matters (Even If You Don’t Play Star Citizen)
This isn’t just a story about one mismanaged game.
It’s a case study in what happens when you build a business model around perpetual development instead of product delivery. When you prioritize community funding over shipping. When “open development” becomes an excuse for endless iteration.
Other studios are watching. Some are learning the wrong lessons (hello, $40,000 mounts). Some are learning the right ones. Ambition without discipline is just expensive chaos.
If Squadron 42 actually launches in 2026 and succeeds, it validates a decade of apparent madness. If it fails or delays again, it becomes the most expensive cautionary tale in gaming history.
Either way, I’ll still be here. Still not mad. Just watching to see how this unprecedented experiment ends.
Really, what else are you going to do with a story this wild?
