So, that's that. I've tried to delay writing it, since the wounds are raw, and in typical PSM3 fashion, we work better with the walls crumbling around us. The closure of PSM3, and sister-mag XBW, ends a chapter in our company's history: the death of the independent single-format videogame magazine. If you'll excuse my possibly sentimental myopia, for all the indulgence of PSM2's early issues - and regulars like 'Mr T Pities You', 'Ken Kuturagi's Front Room of the Future' and 'No Place Like Home' - video game journalism shouldn't turn its back on fun.
Maybe this is the last rasp of a killer with no more wet work, but I'll a miss a world of ludicrous pun-captions, Jonnie Bryant's face PhotoShopped onto a pea (for one-month-only column Jolly Green Bryant) and 'exclusive' first screens of Killzone 2 - drawn in crayon. Yes, that happened. The internet is quite brilliant at so many things, but the need to have to say something daily, doesn't mean that you should - since endless stories about RPG Game DLC IV aren't going to keep people engaged with this brilliant medium, with so much scope for fun. A magazine thrives when team personality, design and clarity of expression collide, and I hope that isn't lost in the oil-rush for SEO clicks, or the current technical restrictions of the net.
Let The Wookie Win
And, yeah, truth told, magazines just can't do a lot of things as well - so shilling month-old news for £5 one month late just isn't going to cut it. And hasn't for years - hence the shift in focus over the last 12 months of PSM3. I'm only sorry we couldn't bring you quite the depth of polarizing madness and personality we used too, but we're fiercely proud of the way we've focused on features and stories.
Over the last year, no one has done a better job of telling you the shape of things to come, and why - when this age of mediocre sequels on ageing consoles has past - games are about to be brilliant, and provocative, once more. We won't be there to share it, but we hope the spirit of PSM3 lives on. Think of us like Yoda, Obi Wan and Anakin, twinkling like blue ghosts over Darth Vader's blazing corpse, the next time you experience a gaming moment, perhaps even on PS4, that's truly special - only not with Hayden Christensen's face, or that rubbish new end music; we've got principles, after all.
So there we go, indulgent to the last. I'd often sit at award ceremonies, and get upset that PSM3 was so spectacularly ignored. We told fabulous stories, but never felt we were getting the credit. Truth told, we just weren't high profile enough, or not quite good enough to win. But perhaps that's missing the point. Our reward is that we got to tell another story, until there were no more left to tell. We depart with sadness, not regret - and hope that, through you, the PSM3 spirit lives on.
We've always tried to steer you toward superior experiences, and revelled in exploring their depths - even if that placed us in a lonely minority. That's us, for better or worse: the 0.5% of PS2 owners who bought Ico, the madmen who finished GTA: San Andreas or are willing to give PES 2013 the benefit of the doubt, despite every friend banging on about FIFA.
I've worked on PSM3 for twelve years, and it's been a pleasure to share these final moments. I'll leave you, of course, with my fondest scene from MGS4 - that we (well, largely me) voted PSM3's defining moment. I don't care whether you want to play the role of Big Boss, or Solid Snake - or even if you much care for MGS4 - but this is our shared cigar. The moment we all took stock. And this was good. Wasn't it?