Anthem's Closure: A Bittersweet Farewell to a Lost Game

The servers for BioWare's multiplayer game Anthem have officially been shut down, leaving the game unplayable. For many, Anthem's existence has come to an abrupt end.

Just a week prior to its closure, I ventured into a second-hand shop to buy a physical copy of Anthem. With downloads no longer available and EA Play subscriptions no longer granting access, a physical version was my only option. The price tag was just £2, a reflection of the game’s undervalued state. However, my excitement turned to frustration when I realized I'd bought the Xbox One version incompatible with my Xbox Series S. I had to order a PlayStation copy online, creating an odd thrill in unwrapping a game so near its eventual disappearance.

Despite its flaws, playing Anthem unveiled a breathtaking world filled with lush landscapes and intricate design that showcased BioWare's effort. From soaring through exotic terrains to the depth found within Fort Tarsis—where player interactions and narratives flourished—the game offered tantalizing glimpses of what could have been.

Many players joined me in these final days, drawn by curiosity and the desire to relive their gaming memories. The Launch Bay had a vibrancy, as people gathered to showcase their well-earned armor and participate in missions, despite the game's limited social spaces. However, EA BioWare's lack of a substantial farewell felt disheartening, with no significant alterations made to the game leading up to its closure.

Players felt abandoned; the in-game economy remained intact until the end, creating an experience marred by a sense of neglect. Instead of a grand farewell filled with joyous interactions and gratitude, Anthem descended into oblivion like a ghost ship, leaving behind unresolved questions about the future of live-service games.

The closure raises vital queries about the treatment of games in similar positions. How should gamers be protected from losing access to purchased content and characters? Should communities step in to carry the mantle of these abandoned games? Organizations like Stop Killing Games highlight the importance of these discussions. Though Anthem has faded, perhaps it can also spark new dialogues on how we treat our favorite games.

As we reflect on Anthem's journey, we must recognize that while its end has arrived, the conversation surrounding the game's legacy and the industry's approach to live services is just beginning.