I'd hoped my first post of the new year would celebrate The Sands of Time's release, but alas, that's not in the cards. The remake's cancellation as part of Ubisoft's restructuring was disappointing news to all fans who'd been eagerly awaiting it, myself included.

My sympathy goes to the development team in Montreal; I can only imagine how they must feel. Having a project killed is a brutal experience. It's an aspect of the game industry that the public doesn't often see, but developers are all too familiar with.

A cancellation so close to release can be particularly devastating for younger team members who don't have decades of past shipped titles on their resumé. It's tough to suddenly absorb that the past four years of hard work you were proud of, and looking forward to seeing out in the world as your new calling card, will now never see daylight. Words like loss and grieving might seem exaggerated, but artists put their hearts into their work. Memories of nights and weekends spent in studio crunch instead of at home with loved ones, sacrifices that felt worth it at the time, only add to the pain retrospectively once their object ceases to exist.

I love games — playing them, making them — but news like this makes me feel especially grateful that for the past five years, I've been focused on making books and art. The production budget of a graphic novel is minuscule; the creative freedom of trusting that what I write and draw will reach readers directly is priceless.

Coming to Vienna

This month, I'll be in Vienna, Austria, for the German launch of my graphic novel memoir Replay. The book is partly about my life as a game developer (its present-day timeline tells the story of another Prince of Persia project cancellation that was close to my heart, in 2019), but it's also a multigenerational family story.

Having Replay published in Austria is especially meaningful to me, because it's where the Mechner family is from. My dad was born in Vienna; he was seven when the Nazis took power in 1938. Replay interweaves his escape as a child refugee with the period fifty years later, in 1980s America, when he composed the music for his son's video games Karateka and Prince of Persia... and with his own father's (my grandfather's) earlier experience as a teenage soldier in the First World War on the Eastern front.

I hope the story will speak to readers of many backgrounds, and especially to those whose families endured war and persecution in previous generations, or are enduring it now in 2026.

I'll present Replay in Vienna on Thursday, 26 February, with a talk and signing at Jüdisches Museum Wien. (Other events are in the works for that week; details to follow on social media.) Jetzt magazine and podcast has an interview with me about Replay, Prince of Persia, and the family story behind it.

You can get Replay (in English, German, French, Spanish, and Brazilian Portuguese) from my website's Replay page or your favorite bookseller.

As for Prince of Persia, despite this month's let-down, I feel the long-term outlook gives reason to hope. The community of fans and developers that's grown up around the prince holds an unquenchable spring of passion, talent, and determination. Our patience was rewarded recently with the wonderful Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown and The Rogue Prince of Persia. I know it will be rewarded again.