And I’m not going to fix it. I’m not sure anyone can.

I mention this amid the news that Future, one of the biggest publishing companies in the UK that has been around for as long as I can remember, is having severe difficulties. Difficulties that are serious enough to see it considering the closure of CVG (aka Computer and Video Games), one of the longest-running brands in the games press. Future’s woes aren’t solely to do with the games press side of its operation, of course — indeed, it is apparently intending to keep PC Gamer, Gamesradar and the new (somewhat redundant) Kotaku UK up and running regardless of what else happens — but the company’s situation, particularly with regard to the games press, is not at all unusual. I was let go from my position at USgamer recently, as you’ll know if you’ve been keeping up to date with this blog, and I believe Destructoid also lost some people recently, too.

It’s getting beyond a joke now. The video games industry is one of the most lively, vibrant and exciting creative sectors right now; a business that nowadays regularly puts the amount of money thrown about in movies and music to shame. Over the course of the last 30+ years, it’s grown from something that nerds do alone in their bedroom — an activity to be ashamed of — to something that absolutely anyone can engage with on one level or another. Thanks to the rise of smartphones and tablets, there are more “gamers” out there than ever before, but even not taking this rapidly growing market into account, computers, consoles and handhelds are providing more diverse, more interesting, more creative experiences than at any other time in the history of interactive entertainment.

So why is the games press a business that seemingly finds it impossible to remain stable for more than a year or two at a time? Why is the games press such a volatile sector that hard-working individuals (like me, the CVG lot whose jobs are at risk, and any number of other people who have lost their jobs recently) regularly have to effectively start their career over again time after time? How are people who have given up a lot to be a part of this business that they feel so strongly about supposed to build a career and progress?

Part of the reason is the very nature of the Web. People aren’t accustomed to paying for content, so they won’t pay for it. This means that sites have to rely on lowest-common-denominator ad-based revenue, which in turn leads to a decline in the overall quality of content as producing work that shows up high in the search engine rankings or which provides answers to the most vapid of questions becomes a priority for sites. There are rare exceptions — a well-written piece from an established writer can attract a goodly degree of traffic and, consequently, revenue, as can something controversial or which exploits the hot-button topics of the day — but they’re just that: exceptions. For the most part, it’s all about the daily churn: getting as much content as possible out as quickly as possible; a far cry, to be sure, from the magazine model of the pre-Internet days.

And you know what? I’m getting to the stage where I feel like I’m done. I love writing about games. Love it. But it doesn’t feel like it’s possible to make it into a career any more, and it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s possible to make a career out of writing about the most interesting niches of the industry. I’ve been doing the same thing in the business for four years now, largely because I’ve had to reboot my career and start over several times. I’m 33 years old; I can’t keep doing that, and I can’t go back to begging for scraps on a freelance basis, no disrespect intended to anyone who does successfully manage to draw a living wage through that way of working.

And so, I find myself increasingly wondering whether or not if, should a fantastic-sounding job offer for a video games site find itself in my inbox tonight or tomorrow, I would take it. At this exact moment — 22:42 on a Thursday night in May 2014 — I’m erring towards “no”. It would be wonderful to have the guarantee of a new job in this sector that I love, but I’d constantly be wondering if, a year or two down the line, I’d be in the exact same position I am now: never advancing; never progressing; never learning anything new.

A career in video games sounds like a dream come true to most people who grew up with them. But I can tell you, it’s not everything you might hope. In fact, there are a lot of times when it really, really sucks, and it seems like the spring of 2014 is one of those times.

My best wishes to everyone who, like me, is going through a tough time right now. May we all land on our feet and find ourselves doing something where our skills are truly valued and appropriately compensated.