My relationship with Gears of War is complicated; my feelings about the game's potential are stronger than my feelings about the game's reality. Playing the game is like playing the lottery, on the rare occasion the game lives up to its potential, it almost feels worthwhile.
A video game is a system of input and output, a dynamic appeal to a player's sense of amusement. Competitive video games are more than just virtual battlegrounds, they are entertainment frameworks. Entertainment frameworks are not defined by wins and losses, they are defined by universal opportunity. Legitimate issues are concerns of opportunity, and so persist outside the scope of one's performances. Win or lose, there's something fundamentally lacking in Gears of War's framework.
Like an irreparable matrimony, the game and I had reached our limits. The kind, though promising, loses something invaluable along the way. Where no amount of mental framing could rekindle the passion, no amount of dedication could rectify the relationship. I just had to move on.
The most important lesson I've learned from playing Gears of War is that genuine feedback and a genuine effort to respond to feedback do not always facilitate an evolution. Fans and focus groups are great at addressing what they like and don't like when it concerns isolated facts, but not so great at communicating why said facts matter in the context of a particular game dynamic nor in the context of their core values. It is insight into the player's core values, an understanding of the dynamics at large, and intuition that empowers designers to wield feedback effectively. In simply meeting the demands of a fanbase, you are always one step behind in seeing the game's potential.