
Game intel
Bully
A minimalist, multiplayer game where you are Bully, the only ball in the world who can play soccer. Host or join sessions for quick, laid-back matches with fri…
Everyone’s staring at GTA 6’s price tag, delays, and the return-to-office drama. But the part that caught my attention wasn’t the new game at all-it’s the older scars. Before GTA 6 soaked up the oxygen, Rockstar had already burned through goodwill (and some of its people) on projects like Bully (aka Canis Canem Edit) and, later, Red Dead Redemption 2. The whispers of “120-hour weeks,” burnout, and collapsing morale didn’t appear out of nowhere. They’re part of a culture that’s been called out repeatedly-then supposedly reformed, then questioned again.
Bully sits in an interesting place in Rockstar’s history. It launched in 2006 amid controversy (mostly over subject matter), but the behind-the-scenes story is what’s resurfacing now: heavy crunch at Rockstar Vancouver and internal friction that left the studio marked. The “120-hour weeks” line has circulated in anecdotes about that era—an eye-watering number that boils down to 17 hours a day, seven days a week. Is that sustainable? No. Was it universally experienced? Also no. But it reflects how chaotic and punishing things could get at Rockstar when deadlines slipped and creative scope exploded.
If Bully was the early warning, RDR2 was the full-blown crisis. In 2018, a senior Rockstar figure boasted about “100-hour weeks,” which sparked a firestorm. Reporting from major outlets followed, with employees describing long stretches of mandatory (or effectively mandatory) overtime, frayed nerves, and a culture where saying “no” felt career-limiting. The end product was incredible—I still remember losing track of time skinning animals and reading Arthur’s journal like it was a real artifact—but the human toll became part of RDR2’s legacy.
It’s worth remembering this wasn’t isolated, either. The infamous “Rockstar Spouses” letter during the first Red Dead’s development (Rockstar San Diego) and the messy LA Noire saga (different studio, Rockstar as publisher) painted a pattern: relentless ambition, painful production. Bully didn’t get a sequel, and that absence—despite cult status—speaks to how rough that cycle was for the teams involved.

After the RDR2 backlash, Rockstar publicly committed to being better. Multiple devs have said the culture improved—less glorified crunch, more realistic planning, fewer “heroics” demanded late in the project. That context makes GTA 6’s long runway and shifting dates feel less like chaos and more like a studio refusing to run the same people into the ground again. It also explains the conservative PR: fewer promises, more time.
Still, there are red flags to watch. The recent push back to full-time office work during the final stretch has generated anxiety, and historically, return-to-office pivots are often paired with old-school “butts-in-seats” thinking. Final months are where good intentions go to die. If Rockstar genuinely wants to avoid another RDR2-style crunch, this is the moment it gets tested.

There’s also the weight of expectations. GTA Online prints money. GTA 6 isn’t just a single-player epic; it’s the foundation for a live platform we’ll be stuck with for a decade. That’s a recipe for perfectionism—and the kind of tinkering that extends development and tempts leadership to squeeze. If the rumored near-$2B budget is even close, pressure won’t be light.
I love Rockstar’s games because the details matter. RDR2’s camp banter felt like living with a crew. Strangers in the world were characters, not quest dispensers. But I don’t want that level of craft if the cost is burnout and broken teams. The industry’s slowly shifting—more studios are delaying rather than crunching, more devs are pushing back, and players have grown less tolerant of “we killed ourselves so you could have a masterpiece.” Good. That’s progress.
What can we do? A few practical things. Stop roasting delays like they’re personal betrayals. Watch for post-launch crediting—teams deserve their names on the work. Pay attention to dev reporting when it surfaces; transparency helps. And if GTA 6 ships polished instead of “fix-it-in-patches,” take that as a sign the studio stuck to better practices, not a reason to demand day-one superhuman output next time.

Rockstar’s magic has always come from obsessive iteration—the extra line of dialogue, the animation pass nobody sees until they feel it. That mindset can produce generational games. It can also spiral when scope balloons and nobody says “enough.” Bully’s reputation, RDR2’s documented crunch, and the cautious drumbeat around GTA 6 all point to the same truth: you can chase excellence without crushing people, but only if leadership protects the line when the finish gets close and the fear of disappointment spikes.
GTA 6 isn’t Rockstar’s first dance with pressure. Bully and RDR2 showed how far the studio once pushed its teams—and how much it cost. If the longer timeline means fewer 100-hour weeks and a healthier ship, that’s a win worth waiting for.
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