Why Steam is like winning a war--awesome in theory, so long as you ignore the casualties.
If you haven't used Steam, the online download/verification system Valve created for securing and distributing its games, you probably won't find this very interesting. If you have used Steam, you might feel some degree of what I do, here.
I wrote this because I've decided to start writing down the sorts of rants and articles I compose in my head daily. I might even get paid for some of them, but not, I think, this one, so it's going here on LJ. This account is somewhat fictionalized, as I actually encountered these and several other problems over the course of installing and playing Half-Life 2, then Episode 1, THEN The Orange Box. It's just easier this way.
I have mixed feelings about Steam. On the one hand, it’s revolutionizing the part of the video game industry not concerned with “engines” and “gameplay” by cutting out the game retailers and thus giving more money to developers while taking less from consumers. Add to that the fact that the retailers being cut out are assholes of the highest order because they sell used games for 99% of the price of new ones after buying them for 8% of the original price, and don’t pass any of that ridiculous profit along to the developers, and Steam and its cousins are heroes of the video game industry. On the other hand, you never get a second chance to make a first impression, and the first time we met, Steam spat in my face, slapped me, then ran over my dog while cackling maniacally. Metaphorically speaking, of course, since I don’t have a dog. Anymore.
When I bought The Orange Box, I was excited. I had waited a long time to get it, first because I couldn’t afford a computer worthy of it, then because I couldn’t justify the price, when I barely had time for games at all. Finally, I found it on sale (for less than downloading it would have cost, I might add) and bought it. A couple days later, I came home from a 13-hour workday-I will NEVER work for salary without some kind of guaranteed cap on hours again-and I was all ready to fire up some Half-Life 2 and shoot, blast, and crowbar aliens and zombies into piles of pixelated gore. By the time I was done, I was ready to shoot, blast, or crowbar anyone at Valve into piles of very real gore.
The first problem arose when I realized I’d bought a DVD version of the game, and didn’t have a DVD drive. This was not a major problem, since I’d had a DVD burner gathering dust in a box for over a year, but hadn’t installed it because I had no need. So I spent a half hour dissecting my Dell and installing the DVD burner. This isn’t at all Valve’s fault, of course, but it didn’t help my mood facing what was to come, either.
DVD drive installed, I put in the disc and started installing the games. After the usual tedious waiting, the games are installed and Steam runs, asking me to set up an account, including my username, password, and email address. What the fuck? I can understand needing this stuff for Team Fortess 2, but why do they need it for every game? Fine, whatever, I give it what it wants. Now it asks for my security code. No problem, this is all par for the course, games have been using 15-25 digit CD keys for over a decade. I type in the code. “Invalid Code,” says Steam. I type it in again, double-checking each of the five 5-digit strings. Invalid code. I try again, quadruple-checking every one of the 25 characters for accuracy. Invalid code. FUCK!
I read the error page, click the link to how to resolve it, and read another page. This page tells me that I have to write a message on my code sheet, scan it, then email it to Valve and wait for them to reset the code to my account. This can take up to 48 hours.
I cannot express my rage at this without sounding like I’m making a hyperbole. If the person who created this system had appeared before me in person to explain and justify it, he would have found himself subject to some sort of appalling and no-doubt unjustified physical pain ranging from, at the very least, being kicked in the groin with a steel-toed boot, and up to being strangled with his own intestines while choking on his testicles. I bought this game from a store, fully sealed. It was not a used game, or a return, or a bootleg, or a friend’s copy. There is no reason I should have any problem with my key to begin with. On top of that, requiring me to scan my code sheet and email it, then wait up to 2 days may have fully-justifiable reasons, but to someone just wanting to play a game at the end of a work day, it causes the sort of spike in blood pressure that’s normally brought on only by someone sucker-punching you, making my violent thoughts pure self-defense, really. I’m sure the courts would agree.
Besides, how do they assume I have a scanner or digital camera? Sure, the package says it requires an internet connection, but “color scanner or digital camera” is not in either the minimum or recommended requirements. Playing a video game should never require a trip to Kinko’s, that’s for pen-and-paper D&D nerds. Despite my rage, I scanned and emailed the sheet, then played something else to calm down before going to bed, annoyed and disappointed.
Two days later, after another very long day at work, I checked my email and found that my code was reset and I could now create a Steam account. I went through all the motions, input my key, and it worked the first time. Finally, I’d be able to play the best games ever made-or so I thought. Instead, Steam pops up a little window and notifies me that it’s downloading updates, which will take several minutes. Fine, I get a soda and surf the ‘net while Steam updates itself. When it finishes, another window pops up informing me that now Steam is downloading more updates; approximate time remaining, a little over two hours. Feeling my anger rising at yet another unnecessary delay, I pull up the main window (cleverly hidden), and notice it’s downloading updates for Half-Life 2, HL2: Episode1, HL2: Episode 2, Team Fortress 2, HL2: Lost Coast, and Portal. I stop the downloads of everything but Half-Life 2, since that’s what I want to play, which cuts the time down to a mere hour or so. After some attempts to run the game without the update, I admit defeat, uncheck the “start game as soon as download finishes” box, and go to bed.
Now, you may be saying “well your internet connection’s slow, mine wouldn’t take more than 15 minutes.” First off, no, it isn’t, my TF2 pings are always under 100, and usually under 60. If you bought the game early, your updates were downloaded on little packets over time, not all at once. Secondly, fuck you, and Steam, and Valve, because why should I need an internet connection at all? If I only want to play Portal, HL2, and its expansions-all single-player, offline games-it shouldn’t matter if I have any internet connection at all.. If they absolutely must require one, it should be for the confirmation of the security code, which would work fine on a 9600 baud modem, much less a 56K or high-speed connection. Patches-or “updates,” if the company doesn’t want to admit its game was broken and needed a “patch”-should be optional for offline games. Yes, you’ll need everyone to have the latest version for online games such as TF2, but if I want to play Portal without downloading a patch, I should be allowed to.
Anyway, the next evening, or Day 4 of the Steam Saga, I sat down to, I hoped, play Half-Life 2, the best game of all time, according to some sources. As I clicked the icon, I swore that if this wasn’t the best game I ever played, I was never buying another Valve game again, because fuck Steam. Then I swore that if I had yet another stupid fucking delay, I was going to hunt down and murder every person who had ever developed, approved, or even endorsed Steam. My computer’s hard drive was slow enough that I even had time to ponder the question of whether I should murder specific targets, or accept some collateral damage by blowing up Steam headquarters.
Fortunately for all involved, the game finally loaded, and every single part of The Orange Box was fucking awesome, so all is forgiven. Mostly.
I wrote this because I've decided to start writing down the sorts of rants and articles I compose in my head daily. I might even get paid for some of them, but not, I think, this one, so it's going here on LJ. This account is somewhat fictionalized, as I actually encountered these and several other problems over the course of installing and playing Half-Life 2, then Episode 1, THEN The Orange Box. It's just easier this way.
I have mixed feelings about Steam. On the one hand, it’s revolutionizing the part of the video game industry not concerned with “engines” and “gameplay” by cutting out the game retailers and thus giving more money to developers while taking less from consumers. Add to that the fact that the retailers being cut out are assholes of the highest order because they sell used games for 99% of the price of new ones after buying them for 8% of the original price, and don’t pass any of that ridiculous profit along to the developers, and Steam and its cousins are heroes of the video game industry. On the other hand, you never get a second chance to make a first impression, and the first time we met, Steam spat in my face, slapped me, then ran over my dog while cackling maniacally. Metaphorically speaking, of course, since I don’t have a dog. Anymore.
When I bought The Orange Box, I was excited. I had waited a long time to get it, first because I couldn’t afford a computer worthy of it, then because I couldn’t justify the price, when I barely had time for games at all. Finally, I found it on sale (for less than downloading it would have cost, I might add) and bought it. A couple days later, I came home from a 13-hour workday-I will NEVER work for salary without some kind of guaranteed cap on hours again-and I was all ready to fire up some Half-Life 2 and shoot, blast, and crowbar aliens and zombies into piles of pixelated gore. By the time I was done, I was ready to shoot, blast, or crowbar anyone at Valve into piles of very real gore.
The first problem arose when I realized I’d bought a DVD version of the game, and didn’t have a DVD drive. This was not a major problem, since I’d had a DVD burner gathering dust in a box for over a year, but hadn’t installed it because I had no need. So I spent a half hour dissecting my Dell and installing the DVD burner. This isn’t at all Valve’s fault, of course, but it didn’t help my mood facing what was to come, either.
DVD drive installed, I put in the disc and started installing the games. After the usual tedious waiting, the games are installed and Steam runs, asking me to set up an account, including my username, password, and email address. What the fuck? I can understand needing this stuff for Team Fortess 2, but why do they need it for every game? Fine, whatever, I give it what it wants. Now it asks for my security code. No problem, this is all par for the course, games have been using 15-25 digit CD keys for over a decade. I type in the code. “Invalid Code,” says Steam. I type it in again, double-checking each of the five 5-digit strings. Invalid code. I try again, quadruple-checking every one of the 25 characters for accuracy. Invalid code. FUCK!
I read the error page, click the link to how to resolve it, and read another page. This page tells me that I have to write a message on my code sheet, scan it, then email it to Valve and wait for them to reset the code to my account. This can take up to 48 hours.
I cannot express my rage at this without sounding like I’m making a hyperbole. If the person who created this system had appeared before me in person to explain and justify it, he would have found himself subject to some sort of appalling and no-doubt unjustified physical pain ranging from, at the very least, being kicked in the groin with a steel-toed boot, and up to being strangled with his own intestines while choking on his testicles. I bought this game from a store, fully sealed. It was not a used game, or a return, or a bootleg, or a friend’s copy. There is no reason I should have any problem with my key to begin with. On top of that, requiring me to scan my code sheet and email it, then wait up to 2 days may have fully-justifiable reasons, but to someone just wanting to play a game at the end of a work day, it causes the sort of spike in blood pressure that’s normally brought on only by someone sucker-punching you, making my violent thoughts pure self-defense, really. I’m sure the courts would agree.
Besides, how do they assume I have a scanner or digital camera? Sure, the package says it requires an internet connection, but “color scanner or digital camera” is not in either the minimum or recommended requirements. Playing a video game should never require a trip to Kinko’s, that’s for pen-and-paper D&D nerds. Despite my rage, I scanned and emailed the sheet, then played something else to calm down before going to bed, annoyed and disappointed.
Two days later, after another very long day at work, I checked my email and found that my code was reset and I could now create a Steam account. I went through all the motions, input my key, and it worked the first time. Finally, I’d be able to play the best games ever made-or so I thought. Instead, Steam pops up a little window and notifies me that it’s downloading updates, which will take several minutes. Fine, I get a soda and surf the ‘net while Steam updates itself. When it finishes, another window pops up informing me that now Steam is downloading more updates; approximate time remaining, a little over two hours. Feeling my anger rising at yet another unnecessary delay, I pull up the main window (cleverly hidden), and notice it’s downloading updates for Half-Life 2, HL2: Episode1, HL2: Episode 2, Team Fortress 2, HL2: Lost Coast, and Portal. I stop the downloads of everything but Half-Life 2, since that’s what I want to play, which cuts the time down to a mere hour or so. After some attempts to run the game without the update, I admit defeat, uncheck the “start game as soon as download finishes” box, and go to bed.
Now, you may be saying “well your internet connection’s slow, mine wouldn’t take more than 15 minutes.” First off, no, it isn’t, my TF2 pings are always under 100, and usually under 60. If you bought the game early, your updates were downloaded on little packets over time, not all at once. Secondly, fuck you, and Steam, and Valve, because why should I need an internet connection at all? If I only want to play Portal, HL2, and its expansions-all single-player, offline games-it shouldn’t matter if I have any internet connection at all.. If they absolutely must require one, it should be for the confirmation of the security code, which would work fine on a 9600 baud modem, much less a 56K or high-speed connection. Patches-or “updates,” if the company doesn’t want to admit its game was broken and needed a “patch”-should be optional for offline games. Yes, you’ll need everyone to have the latest version for online games such as TF2, but if I want to play Portal without downloading a patch, I should be allowed to.
Anyway, the next evening, or Day 4 of the Steam Saga, I sat down to, I hoped, play Half-Life 2, the best game of all time, according to some sources. As I clicked the icon, I swore that if this wasn’t the best game I ever played, I was never buying another Valve game again, because fuck Steam. Then I swore that if I had yet another stupid fucking delay, I was going to hunt down and murder every person who had ever developed, approved, or even endorsed Steam. My computer’s hard drive was slow enough that I even had time to ponder the question of whether I should murder specific targets, or accept some collateral damage by blowing up Steam headquarters.
Fortunately for all involved, the game finally loaded, and every single part of The Orange Box was fucking awesome, so all is forgiven. Mostly.