It almost always sucks. There you are, flogging your guts out on a project that is progressing when all of a sudden the word comes down: it’s canceled. Everyone is milling around in confusion. What happens next? Will we get let go? What the hell happened? The letdown is palpable, and the lack of knowledge of what actually took place is crushing. Rumors fly, the blame game and finger-pointing intensify. You hear (and utter) dark words in dark booths at the back of dark bars. Before long, it’s “them against us,” developers turning against those who did the canceling.
Then again, sometimes it doesn’t suck. Sometimes you have no confidence in what you’re making. Sometimes you have chopped and changed so much of what the game is supposed to be that you just want to do something—anything—different, something in which the course is charted and more defined. And sometimes you have been on a death march for months, working late and through weekends on a morale-sapping project from Hell. In these cases, getting canceled is more like a celebration.