I’m at one of those points in my life where I feel I’ve reached a definite “fork in the road” where I need to decide if I’m going to continue on my current path, or branch off in a different direction. Going backwards is not an option, but both paths ahead are fraught with trials and difficulties.

The road to the left is a continuation of the road I’ve been taking. It’s the road that proceeds merrily through the land of Gamindustri, looping and wending its way past anthropomorphised hillocks and clouds before taking occasional detours into explosive-devastated warzones, alien landscapes and racetracks. It’s a fun road, but you never know what’s coming next; over the next hill could be a pot of gold, or there could be a pit of spikes.

The road on the right I don’t know much about. Not long after the fork there’s a tunnel, and the lights inside seem to have failed. It’s difficult to tell how far the tunnel goes, too; there’s no way of seeing the light at the other end of it. But there are people coming and going, and they look if not actually happy then certainly at least vaguely satisfied with what is going on. None of them look as if they’re afraid about what’s happening either now or in the future, and it’s then that I notice that posted along the side of the road are a number of uniformed officers. They’re not armed and they carry kindly expressions on their face; I get the impression they’re there to keep everyone safe and protect them from the unknown. There is no such detail on the road to the left.

All of this is a rather pretentious way of saying that I think I’m going to have to make a decision soon: whether to continue pursuing life in the games industry, or whether to try and branch off in another direction. As I alluded to above, both roads carry their own fair share of potential pitfalls.

Were I to take the left road, it’s doing so on the understanding that I can’t relax. Even if I work my hardest, there’s no guarantee that I won’t simply wake up one day to discover an email politely informing me that I will soon be out of a job through no fault of my own. And when that happens, there’s no guarantee of being able to immediately score a new job; more often than not, it means a return to either begging for scraps as a freelancer or, were the unlikely to happen and I find myself with a new position straight away, having to work my way back up from the bottom, effectively starting my career over again. This has happened to me a couple of times now and it is already starting to get a bit old.

Were I to take the right road, I have to deal with the true unknown, and there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to find my way to safety and security. My particular combination of qualifications and experience opens up a relatively narrow number of potential career paths to me, and looking at job site listings it can be challenging to determine exactly what type of job I should be looking for, or if it’s even worth applying to things that sound like they might fit the bill. There’s also the feeling that I’m walking away from something that, when it goes well, I do genuinely enjoy doing.

I love writing about games. But I hate — hate — how volatile the games journalism business is. I understand the reasons for it — and it’s a risk we all acknowledge when we enter into it — but that doesn’t make it suck any less when promising careers are cut short for reasons that aren’t any fault of the people in question.

Which is why, to be perfectly frank, I’m leaning towards the right road. I’ve already put in some applications to jobs that are nothing to do with games, with the intention of, if I successfully secure a position, continuing doing games writing purely for myself and those who wish to follow me through projects such as MoeGamer. Given that Andie and I have recently purchased a house — we get the keys tomorrow, in fact — I am getting to the stage where financial security and not having to continually worry on a week-by-week basis about whether I still have a job is worth far more than being able to say that my hobbies and passions are also my career.

That’s a sad and disappointing way of looking at the world, and I’m annoyed that I’m even thinking that way. But unless there’s a significant change in the way the games journalism business works, I’m not sure I can take going through this whole process again.