From Forbes, one of the worst magazines in print, comes this bit of nonsense:

Having this experience in a shared space, where the other players were a constant and palpable off-screen presence was, to me, an ideal form of pure social waste, the pleasure of play derived from the befouling of social bonds in a space where the reduction of other people into digital obstacles was self-evidently petty and artificial. The flourishing of ways to get the toxic nectar of digital play in a format that deprives us of the tempering awareness of others is an epochal coping mechanism, an industry supplying self-medicators in a time of overwhelming pacification, in which subconscious yearning for meaningful forms of physical action and communal purpose have been checkmated in advance by political and legal structures that have grown both more uncontestable and more frighteningly severe. In earlier generations play was sold as a discrete product, in part, because the psychological need it served was self-conscious of its limits. As the industry has shifted toward online play of singular games that have near infinite variation, necessitating 100 hours of play just to reach basic competence, we are indulging a newer and more pathetic emotional need to dissociate from an experience of digitized modernity that has produced as much precarity and punishment as it has progress and communal bonding.