As someone who’s written about games for nearly 20 years, I spend a lot of time thinking about the relationship between the press and the larger games industry. But I’ve been doing even more thinking in the wake of a blockbuster article on Kotaku alleging that the site has been effectively blacklisted by two major publishers for more than a year.

The entire post is well worth a read but to sum it up: Kotaku says that Ubisoft and Bethesda Softworks both refuse to work with the site on any of its gaming coverage. The publishers don’t respond to the site’s requests for comment on news stories (somewhat common, even for unblacklisted sites); fail to make developers and titles available to Kotaku for interviews or preview purposes (unusual for a site with Kotaku’s size and reach); and refuse to provide early review copies of big-name games in series like Assassin’s Creed and Fallout (practically unheard of for a site this big).

The reason, Kotaku says, is because it has reported information that both companies would have preferred not be published. This includes talk of Doom 4’s troubled development, internal details about the development of Prey 2, and reports about unannounced games (including Fallout 4, Assassin’s Creed Unity, and Assassin’s Creed Syndicate—then called Assassin’s Creed Victory) months before they were officially revealed.

In its reporting, Kotaku cited anonymous sources within Ubisoft and Bethesda—sources who are usually forbidden from talking to the press without approval from the marketing/PR department. The site’s insider information has often been borne out by further reveals and leaks.

It’s impossible to prove that this reporting is the reason that publishers stopped communicating with Kotaku (Bethesda and Ubisoft have both failed to respond to a request for comment from Ars). Still, Kotaku’s version of events seems highly plausible given the timing cited by the site and a long history of publishers punishing outlets that print unapproved information.

Play ball or pay the price

In the wake of this story, some people have argued that Kotaku never should have published the leaked information; it was doing a disservice both to the specific games and to the wider industry by revealing information that publishers wanted to keep secret. But while the leaks Kotaku published might not be the Pentagon Papers, they definitely qualify as newsworthy in the gaming corner of the entertainment press. For a writer, sitting on this kind of information would be an act of marketing, not an act of journalism. As Kotaku argues, to think otherwise is to "mistake the job of entertainment reporting for the mandate to hype entertainment products."

Some commenters have also suggested that Bethesda and Ubisoft are completely within their rights to blacklist Kotaku as punishment for publishing these leaks. This is also true. Publishers are under no obligation to work with outlets they don’t trust or don't like, and blacklisting is certainly an effective tool to punish outlets.

It’s reasonable to argue that Kotaku should have expected the possibility of blacklisting and that the site should have weighed the value to readers of publishing its scoops against that lost access. In fact, Kotaku seems to have done just that. It published the pieces and has continued to cover both Ubisoft and Bethesda for months despite any direct working relationship.

This has meant a different approach to coverage, of course. “Cut off from press access and pre-release review copies, we have doubled down on our post-release ‘embedding’ approach to games coverage," editor-in-chief Stephen Totilo writes. "We've experienced some of the year’s biggest games from street level, at the same time and in the same way as our readers."

What about revealing the blacklist? Some have argued that Kotaku should just have kept its head down about the whole situation. Rather than "grandstanding" and bellyaching about being treated "unfairly," these critics argue, Kotaku should have just taken its medicine silently and focused on doing the best job it could given its situation.

But the previously hidden facts about the blacklisting are newsworthy in their own right. Two major publishers refusing to work with a site the size and scope of Kotaku speaks to the larger relationship between the press and the industry. That might not be interesting to all readers, but it’s definitely relevant to readers who work in gaming or who have a financial stake in either company.

In more practical terms, publicizing the feud with these publishers is the only recourse Kotaku has left (after attempts it says it made to "achieve mutual understanding with both companies behind the scenes"). Publishing the details of the blacklisting can be seen as an attempt to marshall the public's sympathy, putting grassroots pressure on these publishers to reopen a working relationship (and, in turn, to better serve Kotaku's readers going forward).

That’s exactly what happened back in 2007, when Kotaku was “blackballed” by Sony. Back then, Kotaku published a rumor discussing details of the PS3’s PlayStation Home before it was officially announced later that year. In retaliation, Sony severed its relationship with Kotaku, cancelling trade show appointments and requesting the return of Sony-provided debug units (needed to review early versions of in-development console software).

When Kotaku publicized the situation on the site (even reprinting e-mails about the blackballing from Sony itself), readers and writers at other outlets were overwhelmingly disgusted, considering Sony’s response to be an overreaction. Sony quickly backtracked and went back to working with Kotaku as it had before.

Who has the power here?

That’s far from guaranteed to happen this time around. Since Kotaku published the blacklisting details, many journalists and readers have cheered the site for asserting its independence and arguing that publishers should be less reactionary over a few stories they weren’t able to control.

More and more, though, I’ve seen people making the kinds of arguments discussed above. They're not especially sympathetic to Kotaku's argument that publishers are trying to "hamper independent reporting in pursuit of a status quo in which video game journalists are little more than malleable, servile arms of a corporate sales apparatus."

And the fact is that Bethesda and Ubisoft don't need a site like Kotaku in the way they once did. In 2007, Kotaku had risen from a blogging upstart to become one of the most important sites in the gaming press, a widely read source that helped to drive the daily conversation in the industry. Back then, getting on the bad side of Kotaku’s writers and readers was enough to make Sony think twice about its planned retaliation for a rumor post.

Today, the market for gaming information and opinions is far more fragmented. Kotaku remains a major outlet, but many players now get their gaming news and opinions directly from the publishers' own blogs, from cult-of-personality YouTubers and Twitch streamers, or from a firehose of tidbits that they happen to see on Twitter or Facebook.

In this environment, it’s hard for any one outlet to demand cooperation from the biggest publishers; those publishers have countless other effective methods to get their message out. These publishers also know that early interviews, previews, and review access are a big part of the lifeblood of a site like Kotaku and that readers may well start looking elsewhere if that lifeblood is cut off. These publishers hope that controlling such access is enough to prevent sites like Kotaku from messing with their marketing plans by reporting true but inconvenient information.

Kotaku has gone a long way to proving this wrong. Despite months of blacklisting, they've stuck to their guns, running "unapproved" news from insider sources while finding creative ways to deal with their newfound lack of access. We hope readers will continue to appreciate their efforts to deliver important industry information that hasn't been spoonfed despite the efforts of some of the powerful companies they cover.