The melancholic spirit of back-to-school season weighs extra heavily on me this year. Though I’m eager to fall back into the swing of things — spending late evenings in Doheny Memorial Library’s bookstacks, embarking on my yearly rewatch of “Gilmore Girls” and embracing my meticulously curated autumnal mindset with pumpkin candles, spiced lattes and Panchiko — my return to campus will be met with swathes of change.

This will be my first time back on University Park Campus since December. After spending a jubilant, transformative five months studying in Rome, Italy, and then dedicating my summer to an internship at Electronic Arts, the idea of returning to USC almost feels like a step back.

Going from a lifestyle defined by exploration and growth back to a student’s mindset will be quite the 180. Even many of my closest USC friends will no longer be in Los Angeles, having graduated in the spring.

“I thought this column was supposed to be about video games!” Shush. I’m getting there.

As I’m coming to terms with my abrupt lifestyle shift, I’ve been simultaneously pondering the changes I’ve witnessed the video game industry undergo throughout the past five years. I feel as though the industry also has taken a step back or at least a step in the wrong direction.

In a previous installment of my column, I passionately wrote about my stance on video games as an art form and how I think more people should acknowledge that games — and interactive media in general — are the natural evolution of art. Games are a glorious amalgamation of film, literature, visual art and music, yet many critics and art historians still neglect the medium and discredit its validity.

With this knowledge in mind, one would hope that the video game industry, one supposedly run by those with the most ardent love and zealous dedication to interactive media, would actively strive to prove these skeptics wrong. But alas, I won’t pretend I’ve fallen into this naive mindset. I know that as long as humans sell art for money, there will be poor quality, greed and willful ignorance on the part of those who profit.

Unfortunately, I think the introduction of “Fortnite” changed the tide of the industry, possibly forever. The level to which “Fortnite” became ingrained in the mainstream, a driver of conversation and a figurehead in the cultural zeitgeist had only previously been seen by games like the “Mario” franchise and “Grand Theft Auto V.” 

The point that differentiates “Fortnite” from these examples, however, is that it made gaming a cultural necessity; “Fortnite” made it cool to game. Those who typically would never be interested in playing games began to engage with gaming through “Fortnite.” 

Following the game’s crystal clear success, many AAA video game companies — large-scale, high-budget developers — became desperate for a piece of the live- service pie, prioritizing profit over product. 

Since then, it’s become more and more clear which AAA projects were developed by those who like games and those who love games. Though we have gotten massive museum-quality projects such as “Clair Obscur: Expedition 33” and “Baldur’s Gate 3” within the past few years, even those didn’t come from the primary AAA companies one typically associates with the video game industry.

This isn’t to say that AAA companies are incapable of crafting artistically inspired pieces. Nintendo, FromSoftware, Square Enix and Naughty Dog, among many others, consistently deliver quality, impactful games. It’s just that there’s an equal number of AAA studios that simply don’t prioritize experience the way these other companies do.

So, in a day and age where the biggest fish in the sea’s goal is money, money, money, where do gamers go to seek out the unique, narrative-driven, life-changing experiences that we think of when we gush about how phenomenal video games can be? We return to our roots, return to the source.

Indie developers are the lifeblood of video games. If I were to make a list of the games that have had the biggest impacts on my life, my worldview and who I am as a person, I’d say at least 70% of it would be dominated by indie titles. My close friends know I never shut up about “Disco Elysium,” which is just one of numerous indie games I believe deserve artistic recognition.

These games have so much heart and soul poured into them, it’s almost impossible not to fall in love with a well-made indie game. And, with the clear risks of developing an indie title, you already know that anyone passionate enough about their vision to go indie is a true artist.

Putting quality aside, indie games have changed the way we develop games as much as iconic AAA titles have. Games such as “Undertale,” “Outer Wilds,” “Hollow Knight,” “Celeste,” “Stardew Valley” and “Minecraft” defined their respective genres, whether pioneering or shifting them entirely.

It’s not that I believe mainstream AAA developers are incapable of developing an experience comparable to the life-altering games I’ve seen come out of the indie space; it’s just that they don’t want to anymore. We see an “Elden Ring,” a “Red Dead Redemption 2” or a “Baldur’s Gate 3,” from time to time. But every year, without fail, we see new, phenomenal pieces of art arise from the indie side of the industry.

As you all return to campus, I encourage you to familiarize yourself with USC’s fantastic game design and development program. USC Games has been the launch pad for a myriad of successful indie projects and developers such as “Before Your Eyes” and “The WereCleaner.” 

To those in the USC Games program: Don’t be discouraged by the state of the industry. Though there will always be executives who put profit first, you will also constantly find people willing to take a chance to make something great. Be an artist unwavering in your dedication and vision; perhaps someday you’ll help craft an experience that changes someone else’s life, just as games before changed yours.

Aubrie Cole is a senior writing about video games in her column, “Downloadable Content,” which typically runs every other Friday. She is also the managing editor at the Daily Trojan.