"They're not very good at naming popes, as well. They had a run of Piouses. It went like Hollywood. Pope Pious the Second, Pope Pious the Third — the revenge of the Pious Pope; Pope Pious the Fourth: this time he's pissed off; Pope Pious the Fifth: in 3D!" –Eddie Izzard, Circle

Whenever someone brings up the Golden Age of Gaming, my mind tends to skip down the same, oft-trodden path to a conclusion. First, I decide on my Favorite Game of All Time (usually a toss-up between Baldur's Gate 2 and Planescape: Torment – one that Shadows of Amn wins not by the virtue of being better, but through having a broader cast of likeable characters — some Minsc, mostly Boo); then I try to remember when it was made (so – early 2000s); and – finally – I wave a dismissive trotter at the laughable suggestion that "it's definitely now."

Don't get me wrong: the technology we have at present is, by consequence of progress, the best it has ever been. But while gaming has made colossal strides in the technological department, its other aspects – aspects (a pig might humbly suggest) more important to the crafting of enjoyable, meaningful experiences – have largely fallen by the wayside. Simply put, the things that make gaming a viable, profitable business are – at the same time – hindering its potential. And the first offender is: franchises.

Star Wars (more than 100). Final (ha!) Fantasy (56). Battlefield (39). BattleTech (38). Call of Duty (19). Assassin's Creed (12). Grand Theft Auto (7). With instantly recognizable brands, a slew of (parenthesized) sequels, gameplay along rigid genre lines, recurring – sometimes annual – release cycles and, oh yes, over 40 billion USD of profitsss, it's easy to see the appeal: releasing The Next Installment of a franchise is all but a guarantee for a studio to get in the black.

You're making the same game you've already made, with only slight variations (which cuts down on the amount of programming); lore and world-building are well-established, so all you have to do is flesh out some details (which cuts down on writing time); and – best of all – the end result doesn't have to be great: it just needs to tick enough of the franchise's trademarks to satisfy its devoted, captive audience. In the end, even if what you make is Not That Good, chances are enough people will buy it on brand recognition alone to at least offset development costs (if not exactly turn a profit). For a business struggling to stay afloat, a franchise is nothing short of a godsend.

But everything that makes franchise games sound business decisions also hedges the bet in favor of the resultant product being just that: another quaff of balm, to be consumed, digested and forgotten in favor of The Next Thing. It's the reason why – out of more than 270 franchise titles previously listed – only a handful are actually any good.

A shorter programming cycle means no incentive to come up with new, innovative ways of solving problems (you have to stick to what you know will work); established lore puts constraints on any unique ideas (they have to function within the franchise's world-building framework, so "anything goes" goes right out the window); and, most importantly, knowing the game is guaranteed to sell takes away most of the reason to Actually Do a Good Job.

Not every time, obviously: outliers always exist. There are (or at least used to be) studios out there which will always try to make a Good Game first – Next Franchise Installment, second (I'm thinking here of your KOTORs, FFVIIs and VIIIs, or... huh, you know – I think that's pretty much it).

But for every Good Game a franchise produces, you are guaranteed to have a dozen or more titles get phoned-in, just to make a quick, relatively easy buck (here's looking at you, Games Workshop).

Sequels and continuations aren't all bad. They offer us a chance to see what happens after the credits roll – to experience more time with our favorite characters, settings and stories... But in order for that to work – for a story to have substance, for characters to have depth and for handholds to exist that our emotional investment can latch onto – it has to be Done Properly and, frankly, franchises discourage the sort of effort necessary to make a game worthwhile. Why bother to cram things in, after all, when more open ground is just around the bend?

So the next time you feel tempted to vote with your wallet in favor of The Established Brand, take a moment to consider: yes, it will give you the slick, shiny Extra Helping; yes, it will likely be entertaining; and, yes, it will be exactly what you expect... But a thing it will never be is Unique, Inspiring or Great. And so long as you keep feeding the beast, it won't have any incentive to go and change its ways.

Pig Recommends:

• -try a fresh, nutritious Indie! yes, the graphics won't be as good (because: budget), and the programming will probably be more simplistic, and the game-play – shorter – and the replayability limited (and odds are it may well turn out to be a Right Stinker); BUT the game will be made by someone with passion – someone who cared deeply about what they made beyond how much cash it put in their pocket; so, by all means, be a discerning shopper, but – try an Indie anyway!

• and (goes without saying)

• -Eddie Izzard