Magic Moments: Great Things About Making Games

It’s no secret that the last couple of years in the game industry have been rough. Tragic layoffs continue, though the pace has slowed compared to last year’s bloodbath. Though the indie scene is still vibrant, triple-A studios are struggling creatively. As I wrote about last week, developers have responded to the tough times with robust unionization efforts.

Overall, I’ve had a fortunate career – I’ve gotten to create some highly successful games with fantastic teams. Still, during hard times, it’s easy to forget why we all do what we do. Making games is hard, and I’m not surprised that some folks give it up for steadier employment opportunities.

I hate it when folks leave the industry. One of my development mantras is that there’s no one right way to make games. For games to thrive, we need the widest variety of diverse creative voices, building the widest variety of products. We need fresh talent flowing into the industry, crafting the next generation’s games.

So this week, as a palate cleanser from all the negative news, here’s a short but sweet list of a few great things about making games. Maybe it’ll help remind you of why you got into the industry in the first place.

Great Friendships

Those of us who have been around a while have people in the industry we love. Maybe we’ve worked with them on several projects. They’re developers we connected with on a personal level – folks we celebrated wins with, or mourned unsuccessful projects.

They’re not always the people who see game development the same way you do. Some of them probably have traits that drive you nuts. But they’re the co-workers you trust, who’ve demonstrated consistently ethical behavior, whose feedback you solicit, and whose insights you still value because they’ve been right so often in the past.

They’re your lunch buddies and your programming partners. They’re the folks you play games with – sometimes your own game, in company playtests, or sometimes a board game at lunch just for fun. They’re the folks who have been next to you in the development trenches the week before a final build candidate is submitted.

Beyond the immediate circle of close personal industry friends, you probably have a large casual circle of former co-workers and acquaintances – teammates on previous projects that you’d be happy to work with again. If you’re a good developer and you’re being honest, that’s probably most of them. 

For the most part, game developers are united in their dedication to the craft and passionate about what they do. In my experience, it’s rare to run across someone who you never want to work with again under any circumstances. I can count on one hand the folks I’d put in that category over my long career.

Shipping Games (Even Bad Ones)

The rush of completing a game and delivering it into the hands of actual players is like no other. It’s motivating and invigorating, a natural high that we chase again and again. 

All the hard work and creative energy poured into a product is about to be consumed by eager fans. Will they buy it? Will they like it? Did you make the right design compromises? Did you fix all the worst bugs? What’s going to happen next?

Sometimes, in the week or so after a launch, ennui kicks in. You were so focused on shipping the game for so long that it’s hard to know what to do with yourself. 

The weeks immediately after a launch become a waiting game. You agonize over each review and user comment. You try to read between the lines of early sales estimates and assess early results.

Even when a game isn’t great – even when you correctly predict that the market won’t respond to it well, or it isn’t going to live up to the hype – shipping it still feels wonderful. There’s a sense of relief when a bad game is finally done. It’s finally out the door; you don’t have to work on it ever again (until the DLC, at least).

I’ve been fortunate in my career. The majority of games I’ve worked on were successful and well-received by fans, or at least profitable. I’ve had a couple of stinkers along the way, but I’m proud of the games I’ve helped push out into the world.

And I enjoyed shipping every single one – so much so that I want nothing more than to ship a bunch more before I hang up my hat for good.

All the Swag

This is a small thing (and certainly no substitute for a company offering competitive wages and good benefits), but I’ve accumulated a collection of fun company trinkets over the years. 

From t-shirts and hats to backpacks, coffee mugs, and Steam keys for company titles, studios tend to regularly hand out project-branded stuff to their teams. Over the last couple of decades, I’ve collected a closet full of physical reminders of past projects and teams. 

And yeah, it’s just stuff – clutter adding to my pile of consumerist crap that will be left for my son to donate to charity or hock for pennies at a yard sale after I die. I certainly have more t-shirts than I will ever wear. But it’s always nice to get presents, even tiny ones.

Games, Games, Games

If you’re in the industry, you probably play a lot of games. Your job and your hobby intertwine on the regular; sometimes it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

You play games on the weekends, or in the evenings, with your kids or your spouse. You play games of all kinds – not just video games, but board games, card games, or role-playing games. You get excited talking about new games with your co-workers. And you regularly take what you learn playing those games and incorporate the lessons into your own work.

I’m not for one second suggesting that you should live and breathe your career 24/7. If you’re staying healthy and balanced, you’ll find the right way to separate your professional and personal lives. In my case, the games I’ve worked on over the years are rarely the kind of games I choose to play in my free time – a choice I’ve intentionally made throughout my career.

It’s hard to get game developers to stop talking about games. We love the stuff. It’s why the best developers keep coming back. I’d go so far as to say that if you’ve lost that love for games – if you don’t want to play something in your free time – you probably should find another industry.

Those of us who have stuck around through all the ups and downs – through layoffs, company closures, and market downturns – clearly aren’t doing it for the money. There are plenty of safer career paths.

No, those of us who stick around are chasing the highs of shipping a game, the joy of working with great teammates, the passionate response of fans who truly love a game, and a career where we engage with our hobby daily.

At the same time, we should acknowledge the lows too – if only out of respect for the recent horde of laid-off ex-employees from great studios like Bungie and Arkane. Spend a decade or more in the business and you’re going to work with a few jerks who make your life a living hell, or you’re going to release a stinker of a game that the audience rejects, or a job you love is going to kick you unceremoniously to the curb.

But I still wouldn’t want to do anything else.

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