6/8/2025 | Entertainment | GB
The announcement of Indiana Jones and The Great Circle: The Order of the Giants DLC should feel like cause for celebration. Instead, it reveals an uncomfortable truth about our cultural moment: we've become trapped in an endless loop of nostalgia, unable to move forward without clinging to the artifacts of our past. The gaming industry's obsession with sequels, remakes, and expansions isn't just a business strategy—it's a troubling metaphor for how we engage with history itself.
Consider the emotional calculus at play here. Fans don't just want more Indiana Jones content; they crave the specific feeling of wonder they experienced watching Raiders of the Lost Ark as children. Game developers know this, which is why the DLC promises deeper exploration of the Nephilim Order mythology—a clever narrative device that allows players to relive their first encounters with Indy's world of ancient mysteries. But this approach creates a paradox: the more faithfully we recreate these experiences, the more we dilute their original magic through sheer repetition.
The hypocrisy lies in our simultaneous demands for innovation and familiarity. We chastise Hollywood for endless reboots while lining up for the next Marvel movie. We criticize game studios for playing it safe while pre-ordering franchises we've loved for decades. The gaming industry didn't create this contradiction—it simply mirrors our collective cognitive dissonance about what we truly want from our entertainment.
For game developers, this dynamic creates impossible pressures. The original Great Circle reportedly took five years and hundreds of staff to create, yet players consume it in weeks and demand more. The human cost of this cycle is rarely discussed—the crunch periods, creative burnout, and opportunities lost when talented teams spend years expanding existing worlds rather than inventing new ones.
Historically, this moment echoes Hollywood's golden age sequel factory of the 1930-50s, when studios milked successful franchises until audiences revolted. But there's a crucial difference: where those films were constrained by technical limitations, today's gaming expansions like The Order of the Giants boast nearly unlimited potential for world-building. This makes their reliance on familiar tropes—yet another secret society, another artifact hunt—all the more disappointing.
The most insidious effect may be on younger creators and players. When cultural oxygen is dominated by franchises older than their parents, where does that leave original storytelling? Recent surveys show over 60% of AAA game budgets now go to established IP rather than new ideas. This isn't sustainable—creatively or economically.
Perhaps we need to rethink our relationship with nostalgia altogether. There's nothing wrong with loving Indiana Jones, but true respect for the franchise would mean letting it inspire new legends rather than endlessly rehashing old ones. The original films worked because they tapped into universal human fascinations—archeology as mystery-solving, history as lived adventure. Those impulses still exist, waiting for fresh stories to give them form.
As The Order of the Giants prepares to take us back underground—both literally into Rome's sewers and figuratively into familiar narrative territory—we might ask whether gaming's nostalgia industrial complex is excavating artifacts or simply digging its own grave. The answer may determine whether interactive storytelling grows up or remains forever trapped in its own past.
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed here reflect the author's interpretation of cultural trends and do not represent an official review of the upcoming DLC.
By Tracey Curl, this article was inspired by this source.