When the new Star Wars video game, Battlefront II, was made public in a final testing session before a general release, it didn't receive quite the reception its publisher, Electronic Arts, was hoping for. It featured a confusing mixture of virtual collectibles and randomised rewards that could be used to unlock characters within the game, meaning it would take 40 hours of continuous play to access just one top-tier character such as Luke Skywalker. The system, though, could be shortcut with cash: players were able to spend real money buying so-called "loot crates" full of the required rewards and credits. Just a few thousand dollars was all it would take to unlock every character in the game. A bargain! What's more, these loot crates were also randomised, with users not knowing what they were getting before buying. The fan backlash to this system, on social news site Reddit and elsewhere, was immediate and furious.

If you've already paid $60 for a video game, haven't you spent enough? That's the question Electronic Arts, or EA, the maker of games including the Madden NFL series, FIFA and Battlefield, has to answer after angering customers who eagerly anticipated one of its biggest holiday releases, "Star Wars: Battlefront 2." On top of the "Star Wars"-themed action-shooter's $60 list price, the game included micro-transactions, which enabled players to spend real-world money on in-game items such as "loot crates" -- essentially a mystery box filled with perks. Although video games have long allowed players to spend currency on cosmetic purchases such as special costumes, "Battlefront 2" players were upset to learn that a trial version of the game let them spend money to bolster their characters. Those who opted against paying were at a disadvantage and simply had to "grind" -- that is, play for many hours -- to achieve similar powers or unlock marquee characters such as Darth Vader. Players accused EA of engaging in pay-to-win practices.

The company drew accolades for its fast growth, but tensions simmered inside the operation. The company drew accolades for its fast growth, but tensions simmered inside the operation. On its ascent to becoming the nation's fastest-growing start-up, Loot Crate Inc. fostered a workplace in which employees warred with Nerf guns, proudly brandished Captain America socks and chanted the company's name like a rally cry. But by last summer, when the Los Angeles firm landed on the cover of Inc. magazine for its stupendous expansion, the enthusiasm had been zapped. Last month, two senior executives came an eyelash away from fighting, not with foam darts, but with fists.