I still remember the first time I played The Thing: Remastered last month, expecting that classic squad-based tension where every decision about your teammates matters. Instead, what I got felt more like managing disposable assets than forming meaningful connections with characters. This experience got me thinking about how we approach risk and trust in modern systems—which strangely connects to how the gold rush shaped modern economics and investment strategies. Just as prospectors during the gold rush had to constantly evaluate which claims to trust and which to abandon, modern investors face similar dilemmas about where to place their trust and capital.
During the 1840s California Gold Rush, over 300,000 people rushed to the West Coast hoping to strike it rich. What's fascinating is how this chaotic period fundamentally changed how we think about investments. Prospectors had to make quick decisions about which mining claims to trust, which partners to collaborate with, and when to cut their losses—not unlike how we evaluate investment opportunities today. The parallel with The Thing: Remastered is striking: just as the game fails to make trust mechanics meaningful because "there are no repercussions for trusting your teammates," many gold rush investors learned the hard way that blind trust could lead to financial ruin.
What struck me about the game—and what connects to economic history—is how systems either incentivize or discourage meaningful cooperation. In The Thing: Remastered, the developers missed a crucial opportunity to create genuine tension around trust. As the reference material notes, "Any weapons you give them are dropped when they transform, and keeping their trust up and fear down is a simple task." This lack of consequence mirrors how early economic systems evolved—initially, there were few repercussions for unethical investment schemes during speculative frenzies, but eventually, we developed regulations and systems to make trust matter.
The transformation of the gold rush from chaotic individual prospecting to organized corporate mining operations demonstrates this evolution perfectly. Within just five years, individual miners yielding about $10-20 daily were replaced by industrial operations that could process thousands of ounces monthly. This systematic approach to risk management directly influenced how the gold rush shaped modern economics and investment strategies. We moved from gambling on individual claims to diversified portfolios—much like how a well-designed game should balance risk and reward rather than making cooperation meaningless.
Personally, I find both game design and economic history fascinating because they reveal how systems shape human behavior. The disappointing part of The Thing: Remastered was how it "gradually chips away at the game's tension" by making relationships inconsequential—similar to how poorly regulated markets can make ethical investing feel pointless. By the halfway point, the game becomes what the reference describes as "a boilerplate run-and-gun shooter," abandoning its most promising mechanic. This reminds me of how many investment strategies start with innovative approaches but devolve into conventional thinking when the going gets tough.
Looking at today's cryptocurrency boom, I see echoes of both the gold rush and that flawed game mechanic—initial excitement giving way to realization that the systems don't always reward the behaviors they claim to value. The gold rush ultimately taught us that sustainable wealth comes from building systems where trust and cooperation have real consequences and value. Similarly, compelling games—like sound investment strategies—need to make our choices about who and what to trust genuinely matter. Otherwise, we're just going through motions toward what the reference accurately calls "a banal slog towards a disappointing ending."
