Why Predictable Game Awards Drain the Audience
Awards shows thrive on anticipation. Viewers show up for surprise, debate, and the feeling that anything could happen. If one game dominates early and often, that tension evaporates. Each new announcement feels, and is, pre-decided. The experience shifts from excitement to endurance.
This year, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 collected a staggering number of awards. While it is a good game with a unique story, the sweep itself became the story. By mid-show, the outcome felt locked in. The audience stopped wondering and started waiting.
That emotional shift matters. Once the suspense is gone, the show loses its reason to exist.
Sweeps Create the Illusion of Perfection
Winning across dozens of categories sends an unspoken message: this game achieved everything. That message clashes with reality. No game is flawless. Every title makes tradeoffs in design, pacing, systems, or accessibility.
If an awards show treats one game as universally dominant (perfect), it shuts down meaningful discussion. Instead of asking where the game excelled and where it fell short, the conversation freezes. It discourages critique and flattens analysis.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 offers a clear example. Its story stands out. The narrative is distinctive and emotionally resonant. That strength deserved recognition. The combat, while competent, did not redefine the genre. Grouping both under the same level of acclaim blurs the difference between excellence and adequacy.
Why GTA 6 Will Repeat This Problem
The concern extends beyond one game. With GTA 6 on the horizon, the pattern feels inevitable. If the launch avoids major technical issues, the awards trajectory is already written. Viewers know what will happen before the show begins.
At that point, watching becomes optional. The outcome feels more like confirmation than celebration. When the audience disengages, the awards lose cultural relevance. Prestige without suspense does not sustain interest.
I can safely say: if things do not change, I will not be watching the 2026 awards show. If I know who is going to win, it’s a waste of my time watching. The awards show is two hours long if you don’t normally watch it. Filled with ads.
A Fair Solution: Limiting How Many Awards One Game Can Win
Capping the number of awards a single game can receive offers a practical solution. This approach does not diminish success. It refines recognition.
A limit forces organizers to decide what a game truly excelled at. It ensures awards align with the areas where a title shines most. Story-focused games receive narrative recognition. Mechanically innovative games receive systems-focused awards. Artistic achievements stand apart from technical ones.
This structure benefits everyone:
- Games earn awards that best suit their strengths
- Developers are encouraged to stand out in specific areas
- Smaller or experimental titles gain visibility
- Viewers regain uncertainty and engagement
Limiting awards restores balance without lowering standards. Remember: developers don’t want to release their game anywhere near when GTA 6 releases. That in itself is a problem.
Encouraging Creative Risk Through Focused Recognition
When dominance is capped, developers have incentive to differentiate. A studio might know their graphics cannot compete with the largest budgets, so they invest deeply in writing, music, or atmosphere. Another team might prioritize mechanical innovation over cinematic presentation.
Awards should reflect that diversity. Recognition works best when it highlights different paths to excellence rather than crowning a single, all-encompassing winner.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33’s story is a perfect example. That narrative deserved the spotlight. Letting it shine on its own would have strengthened its impact rather than diluting it through overexposure.
Awards Should Respect the Audience
This issue ultimately centers on trust. Viewers invest time expecting discovery, not inevitability. When outcomes feel predetermined, that trust erodes. People stop watching because the show becomes boring.
Limiting awards is not about taking trophies away. It is about preserving meaning. An awards show should celebrate a year in games, not compress it into a single title.
Without suspense, recognition becomes noise. With thoughtful limits, it becomes conversation again.
