You ever notice how.… certain things that aren’t a big deal become a very big deal as time goes on. Stuff we dismiss at first as boring, mundane, inconsequential. And then through time, they become monumental and defining.

Now, let me give you an example of what I’m talking about. Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley.

I remember when this song came out. I was six years old at the time. And even then, to my six-year-old self… this was background noise. It didn’t really stand out. I mean, it was a hit, it was being played on radio stations. But even for the song that it was, it’s not as though there was anything definitive about it. This was a Stock Aitken Waterman song. Probably among dozens that had already charted in the '80s. And frankly, if you’ve heard one Stock Aitken Waterman song, you’ve heard them all.

I’m not saying that Stock Aitken Waterman are bad. On the contrary—they had a formula that worked, that made them lots of money. And it was the right sound for the moment.

I don’t even think Rick Astley himself saw Never Gonna Give You Up as defining. It did hit number one all over the world. But so did his other song, Together Forever.

And here’s the thing. Rick Astley retired from the music industry at the age of 27, in 1993. And he didn’t come back for a very, very long time. I suspect he saw his music career as not a very serious thing. And so he went off and did other things.

But if you’ve been on the internet, at least for the past 20 years, you know where this story is going. Because Never Gonna Give You Up got a second life. It became the embodiment of the Rickrolling meme.

Started off as a joke. You would point a link somewhere—it started on 4chan, then went elsewhere—implying a certain source page. And when you clicked on the link, it would take you to the Never Gonna Give You Up YouTube video.

And this meme became so pervasive, so all-consuming, that it became the mother of all memes. That’s not to say it was the first meme ever—by far, it was not. But it was the meme that would forever define all other memes. And therefore define internet culture itself.

I would say that Never Gonna Give You Up isn’t even about the meme anymore. It’s now about the internet.

It became so widespread that when you hear it in places not connected to the internet, you think internet. Like the time Family Guy played it. And then when you saw Rick Astley perform it at the Macy’s Day Parade.

I mean—good God—it wasn’t enough to be Rickrolled on the internet anymore. You were now being Rickrolled off the internet.

And Rick Astley himself saw a career renaissance. He un-retired from music. He started performing again. No longer were people dismissing Never Gonna Give You Up. A lot of folks started genuinely liking it. Unironically, at that. It began to be seen as wholesome.

I remember going to somebody’s wedding and hearing that song played during the reception. And the funny thing is—the bride and groom knew what this song was. They knew what it meant, especially in relation to the internet. But the intent was no longer to Rickroll.

Everyone who showed up to the wedding—they just genuinely liked the song.

And suddenly, something that seemed so inconsequential, insignificant, ended up becoming a big deal.

Now, funny enough, something like this has actually happened with video games too.

In 1999, Gorky 17 was released.

If that name does not ring a bell to you, it’s because in the North American markets—Canada and the USA—it had a different title. It was known as Odium.

And this was not a bad game. It was actually pretty damn good.

The best way I can explain this game to you is, kind of think of a mash-up of XCOM with Resident Evil. What you got here is a survival horror game that’s also a tactical role-playing game. So like XCOM, it’s turn-based. You got a team. You have to place your folks on a board, position them, and take turns attacking enemies.

But then you have the post-apocalyptic scenario, where you have to do a lot of resource management. You’re constantly short on things—short on bullets, short on health—so you have to carefully manage things to make the most out of your resources. Much like a survival horror game. Except in this case, instead of dealing with zombies, you’re dealing with mutants.

Now—what makes this game actually consequential now? Why is it a big deal?

Well, I’ll tell you.

Gorky 17 was the first Polish-made video game to get some kind of international recognition. And I don’t mean in the sense of, “oh hey, this was a work-for-hire project on behalf of Western developers.” I don’t mean in the sense that, “oh hey, a bunch of folks happened upon Atari 8-bit titles while dialing into a BBS and there was an underground group of appreciators.” I don’t mean it in that sense.

I mean this was an original property. That was outright Polish. Had a specific Polish cultural lens and featured a Polish protagonist.

Now, if you’re not a gamer, you might be thinking, “Hey, what’s the big deal? Different countries make video games all the time.” And you’re right.

But if you play a lot of video games, you’ve probably noticed that Poland is now one of the most important video game producing countries in the world.

If I were to rank the top three countries when it comes to making video games, I would put Japan at number one. The USA at number two. And Poland at number three.

Sorry to all you Brits and French folk out there. But Poland has leapfrogged you in terms of performance.

Because let’s be honest here: very few countries have the equivalent of a CD Projekt Red. Or a Techland. Or 11 bit studios. Or Flying Wild Hog. The list goes on.

Very few countries make something like Cyberpunk 2077. The Witcher 3. Frostpunk. Dying Light. This War of Mine.

Poland has now been associated with three things: incredible cutting-edge indie titles; double-A titles that punch above their weight and make the most of all their resources; and now, prestige triple-A.

And what’s more—just like Japan and the USA—there’s a specific style that Polish games have. And you know it when you see it.

Polish games tend to be very narrative-focused. They sneak in a lot of folk tales from their culture. There’s a little bit of that post-Soviet hangover. Oftentimes, they tend to be poetic but also gritty. Funny, but also brooding. And they’ve got an atmosphere. Oh my God, they are so heavy on atmosphere.

Like, when you launch a Polish game—it tends to hold a lot of weight.

Now, obviously, this isn’t always true. There are sometimes exceptions. Kao the Kangaroo comes to mind. There’s nothing brooding about Kao the Kangaroo—unless, I don’t know, there’s something about the lore I’m missing. But surface level at least, Kao doesn’t brood.

But The Witcher? Yes. Definitely a lot of brooding in The Witcher.

Now what’s interesting about Gorky 17 is that not only was it the first to gain international recognition—it has all the hallmarks of what we now associate with Polish gaming.

It’s got the atmosphere. You’re literally a bunch of soldiers—NATO soldiers, at that. As a Canadian, I like that the dude in charge, Cole Sullivan, is also Canadian. This takes place in a post-Soviet setting. Experiments have gone on. Mutants are on the loose.

It’s not made with camp—though there is a ton of humor. It’s downright melancholic.

And get this: Gorky 17 ended up being one of the only games published by Monolith Productions.

That’s right. Before Monolith was bought by Warner Bros. Games, they sometimes published other people’s stuff. And when you were published by Monolith Productions, that gave a game instant credibility. This was the same company that brought us Blood, Shogo: Mobile Armor Division, and very soon, No One Lives Forever.

So right out of the gate, even though Gorky 17 was probably made on a lot lower of a budget than Monolith’s other games, the fact this was a Monolith game—you were like, “Okay. I gotta keep my eye on this.”

And once you got the game—it’s so fascinating.

Even though this is a PC game—it was only ever released on PC platforms (Windows, Mac, Linux)—funny enough, in 2015, it eventually got ported to Amiga. But nowhere else.

And even though it was a PC game, it felt like a PlayStation game. All interaction was with your mouse—moving characters, selecting weapons—entirely mouse-driven. No gamepad support. But it had that PlayStation-style look: pre-rendered backgrounds with polygonal characters.

Visually speaking, it kind of looked like Final Fantasy—except with a lot more decay. And scarcity.

And unlike a lot of games made nowadays, this one flew the isometric flag. Proudly.

Sound design? Something else. There’s voice acting—very bad voice acting. Even by the standards of the day, which were already pretty bad. I’d say this is Castlevania: Symphony of the Night bad—but with European accents, which somehow gives it its own flavor.

The soundtrack? Pretty good. I wouldn’t call any of it toe-tappers. But it’s got this ambient vibe. Almost feels like background noise—but it isn’t. It sneaks up on you.

And obviously, this game is trying to be horror. And good horror demands ambience.

Now, I will say this much about Gorky 17: it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s hard. Difficulty, lots of trial and error. Even for a tactical RPG, it takes a lot of getting used to—especially the resource management. The temptation is to waste all your bullets. But if you do, you’re done. Game over. Gorky 17 really does put the “tactical” in tactical RPG.

But at the end of the day—it’s fun. If you get it through your head that you’re supposed to survive, not conquer—you’ll enjoy it. Survive is the name of the game.

By Polish standards of the day, this was a mega hit. It spawned two sequels. Both titled Gorky Zero.

One game—Gorky Zero: Beyond Honor—was released in 2003. The other—Gorky Zero: Aurora Watching—in 2005.

Personally, I think the sequels lost the plot. They went from tactical RPGs to Splinter Cell-style stealth games. I get it—the sequels have their audience. I just don’t think they’re as good as the original.

And for that reason, the franchise died an unceremonious death.

It could’ve been more. It could’ve been big. But, you know. That’s how it goes. Developers chase trends, try to scratch an itch, and sometimes it doesn’t take.

But Gorky 17? It has a cult following. Especially in Eastern Europe. And there are still folks in North America who like it—especially those who love PC tactical RPGs.

But beyond that—this was the game that seeded Adrian Chmielarz’s legacy.

After Gorky 17, Metropolis Software was bought by CD Projekt. And Chmielarz—the founder—went on to co-found People Can Fly and The Astronauts.

You might know People Can Fly from Painkiller and Bulletstorm. Both iconic FPS games. The Astronauts made The Vanishing of Ethan Carter.

And both studios continued that uniquely Polish tone—surreal, dark, ironic, philosophical.

Pull back even further, and you’ll see it: Polish game development started as a DIY thing. Atari 8-bit computers. DOS. Nobody outside Poland played those games.

But Gorky 17? It’s the missing link between that era and Poland’s modern AAA success.

At the time, it wasn’t special. It didn’t feel consequential. You’d find it in bargain bins.

But it helped define the modern era of gaming.