I’m British, I’m a gamer, I’m a British gamer. And for as long as I’ve been gripping my joystick, I’ve been a loud, proud advocate for the British gaming history. I grew up in the thick of the ’80s microcomputer boom, that glorious era when gaming was evolving. As a family, we had a Commodore 64. One of our neighbours had an Amstrad CPC 464, another had a ZX Spectrum. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I’d lucked into the perfect childhood sampler platter of videogaming. I played everything I could get my hands on and through all of that, one studio towered above the rest: Ultimate Play the Game.

Ultimate weren’t just good, they were era‑defining. They put out games that felt like they were beamed in from a parallel universe where imagination had no limits. Jetpac, Atic Atac, Sabre Wulf, Knight Lore, titles that didn’t just push boundaries, they redrew them. Long story short (the much longer and detailed version’s in my book), Ultimate evolved into Rare Limited, and for a good long while they carried that same spark.

The 8‑bit years were a mixed bag, sure, but once the 16‑bit machines arrived, Rare became one of the finest on the planet. Battletoads Arcade, Donkey Kong Country, Killer Instinct. And then came the Nintendo partnership, the N64 era, the golden age. Blast Corps, GoldenEye 007, Diddy Kong Racing, Jet Force Gemini, Perfect Dark, Conker’s Bad Fur Day. That run wasn’t just impressive, it was historic. Rare were operating at a level most studios never even glimpse.

Then the gears started grinding. The Nintendo partnership faded. Microsoft bought Rare. And the magic… thinned. Not vanished, not collapsed, just thinned. The games weren’t outright bad, but they weren’t Rare. Fast‑forward to 2026, and Rare have released exactly one new game since 2018: Sea of Thieves.

Here’s the part that hits closer to home. As I’m sitting here typing this, I’m not all that far from Rare’s HQ, it about a 45‑minute drive away. I’ve passed it countless times over the years. And every time I did, I felt this quiet, genuine pride. That studio (several changes aside) was where some of the greatest games of my childhood were made. A world‑class studio. But more recently, when I’ve passed by, a different thought creeps in: WTF happened to Rare?

Because I’m a proud British gamer, because I care about British gaming history, because Ultimate/Rare shaped who I became as a player, I follow Rare on social media. And do you know what Rare mostly post about these days? Here are a few examples…

Here’s their latest one, and one I just had to reply to…

In between posting crap comments about nothing, they post fan made art (fans are doing more to keep Rare alive than Rare are), pictures of picnics and parties that often have. Very, very occasionally, if you look hard enough, you might spot the odd, blink‑and‑you’ll‑miss‑it mention of something vaguely game‑related… maybe. WTF had happened to Rare? Why don’t they make games anymore, why don’t they celebrate games, why don’t they celebrate their amazing history? Why are they posting about Jaffa Cakes, frogs, and everything else but games? It’s baffling. It’s sad. And honestly, it’s a bit insulting to their own legacy.

The last truly great thing Rare did was Rare Replay, an absolutely brilliant celebration of their history, thirty‑one games, behind‑the‑scenes stories, artwork, interviews, context, texture. It’s the best retro collection ever made. But that was 2015. Eleven years ago. And since then? Nothing but eight years of milking the very average Sea of Thieves.

To be fair, they tried. Everwild was in development from 2014. Cancelled. A reboot of Perfect Dark was in the works (outsourced, not developed by Rare). Cancelled. Maybe they’re working on something now. Maybe it’ll be cancelled too. But Rare just aren’t Rare anymore. I’m not saying they should be pumping out a new game every year, but something would be nice. When the best thing they’ve done in over a decade is a retro collection of their old games, doesn’t that say that the studio is effectively dead?

And here’s the uncomfortable question: Why doesn’t Microsoft just close Rare? Put it out of its misery. Keep Sea of Thieves running in‑house. But surely they don’t need a 200‑plus‑employee studio to maintain an eight‑year‑old game and occasionally post about Jaffa Cakes.

Rare were once the beating heart of British gaming. Now they’re a ghost of their former selves, kept alive by nostalgia, fan art, and a social media feed that feels like a parody of a once‑legendary studio.