Strategically, even if Bobby Kotick's misconduct weren't a giant liability, there's rarely a point in keeping around the CEO of an acquired company. It's a redundancy. I find the anonymous reports entirely credible that the writing is on the wall for his continued employment, but in order to complete an acquisition at all, let alone one that's nearly 69 billion nice American dollars, it's necessary to not ruffle the shareholders too much with talk of purges, so it'll play out in stages. It is galling to consider that such an asshole is still going to get his golden parachute, but that particular deal was sealed long ago.
We live in the era of media conglomerates. What can be said about the bloating of the Xbox division, their ambition to encompass as much of the field as they possibly can, that wasn't already said about the likes of Disney? Industry has outpaced the regulations, and the country in which Microsoft is headquartered is an empire in its twilight, alternately catatonic and neurotic, incapable of even attempting to address any but the most urgent of crises. The end of copyright as we know it is the only thing that can put an end to this.
But there's a more immediate drama to all of this, and that's what I find interesting.
Microsoft's strategy in games is the same as its strategy everywhere else: create a platform, strengthen the platform, broaden the platform, invite users to do whatever they please on your platform, and collect subscription fees. Like in every other sector, they think long-term, which I confess is a tendency that makes me view them a fair bit less negatively than any of the other tech giants. In marketing, they wish to present their platform as the superior destination for, and synonymous with, (western triple-A) gaming. Highly capable and accessible consoles is one prong of that strategy.
On another prong, their tactics have shifted over the years. At first they simply were the lavish sponsor of exclusive games from respected developers. The most discriminating enthusiasts, the theory went, would lead the rest of the market into Xbox's waiting arms. This produced some gems of games, of course, but it was untenable as a strategy, for two reasons. The first reason was because each exclusivity deal had to be negotiated individually and could be thwarted by any random publisher with their own random plans for their annual product calendar. They weren't building close ties; they had no loyal partners, only mercenaries.
The second reason why the strategy of buying exclusives failed was because individual games aren't what build up the reputation of a brand and the loyalty of customers. Rather, intellectual property rules everything. Even Nintendo, a century-old toy company, reached the conclusion that their games are merely their best means of bolstering and monetizing their valuable trademarks and characters.
This is why they gradually shifted to a strategy of outright buying developers and publishers instead. Loyal partnership was now no longer necessary; as tentacles of the octopus, they would as a matter of course release on Microsoft's preferred platform: always Xbox, often Windows, sometimes elsewhere depending on the needs of the season. Buying whole catalogs at once helps diversify their intellectual property holdings more efficiently, and being aboard the mothership lends the stability that's helpful to allow new IPs to grow into established ones.
Subscriptions are what every tech company loves these days. Money that you keep getting without having to make a whole additional sale every single time is money that you can plan around, money that you can rely on, and therefore more valuable even than other kinds of money, even if you end up with less of it. If you go to the Xbox website, they don't even list the MSRP for the Series X, instead offering a monthly financing plan. In the early 2000s Xbox Live proved their customers would pay a subscription fee that wasn't tied to any one game, and nowadays Xbox Games Pass is following the lead of Netflix and pushing that discovery even further.
To improve the value proposition of Games Pass, they need more games to put on it, and by now they know that it's more effective for them to do this by owning the developers than by striking deals with other publishers (though they certainly still do plenty of that). The Bethesda and Activision acquisitions, together with the Mojang purchase in 2014, mean that most of the biggest games on Xbox are now owned by Microsoft.
Microsoft games will now be nearly as hegemonic on Microsoft platforms as Nintendo games are on Nintendo platforms.
In this arrangement, there's no need to choke out the competition; their best customers are the ones who also own a Switch and a Playstation. The browser wars of the 90s revealed to the world that restricting choice is a crude and unnecessary tactic; more intensively developing the market you have is a much more powerful move. Google and Apple learned it, why not Microsoft? It also makes it harder to be prosecuted under century-old antitrust laws. Vertical integration is the name of the game here. It's an enormous potential savings to run all these online games on Azure, for instance.
Microsoft isn't yet a giant media conglomerate on the level of Disney, but they clearly aspire to become one. Media conglomerates are based on intellectual property, on the government-granted monopolies on cultural icons. The nature of the risk they pose to society is cultural, not economic. It takes a long time for that risk to materialize, and it's going to take years for Microsoft to start exploiting the motherlode they just hit.
If every current employee affected by this merger instead resigned (and I don't think they would choose to - working at Microsoft is a better gig than the average game company offers to anyone outside of the C-suite, and they've gotten experienced at smooth integration), they would still have two enormous assets: the right to continue operating some of the most continuously profitable service games on earth, including World of Warcraft and Candy Crush Saga; and all the dormant trademarks of the former most prolific and acquisitive game publisher in the world. I mean, for crying out loud, they own Zork now. They've got a deep stable of classics, poised to jumpstart the development of the richest catalog of game IP in America. Bobby Kotick let that field lie fallow in favor of making as many Call of Duty spinoffs as money could buy, but I don't think Phil Spencer is gonna repeat that mistake.
I think this whole thing is fascinating, and only anti-consumer to the extent that it's consistent with patterns endemic to the broader collapse of civilization, so I'm simply very interested to see how this story unfolds.