From My Heart: The Industry Needs Builders, Not Bystanders

After 39 years in this vibrant, dynamic video game industry, I've witnessed numerous transformations. From arcade coin-ops to digital downloads, from pixelated sprites to photorealistic worlds, and then back to pixelated worlds—I've seen it all. But the transformation that troubles me most isn't technological; it's structural. As our industry faces unprecedented challenges—mass layoffs, studio closures, and failed titles—I find myself reflecting on what truly matters: creating meaningful experiences for players.

A Personal Reflection on Our Industry's Path

I remember when making games meant focusing on craft. When small teams poured their hearts into creating experiences that captivated and inspired them, today, I look around and see an industry increasingly populated by middlemen—people who position themselves between creators and players without adding substantial value.

Let's be clear about what we're discussing: The global video game market reached $196 billion in 2023, generating more revenue than streaming and box-office sales combined. In the United States alone, consumer spending on video games reached $57.2 billion in 2022. By 2028, global revenue is projected to climb to $257 billion. This is serious business—a creative and economic powerhouse that deserves thoughtful stewardship.

Yet, in contemplating the future of our industry, one cannot help but feel a twinge of frustration at the cacophony of voices from those who stand outside its walls. You wouldn't solicit financial advice from someone who has never managed investments, so why would you seek guidance on game development from those who have never shipped a game title? The nuances of our craft—the delicate balance of creativity and commerce, the ever-evolving relationship between creators and players—are not matters to be casually opined upon by the uninitiated.

The path from developer to player has become unnecessarily convoluted. Publishers who avoid risk rather than embrace creativity. Ad networks that extract value without contributing to the player experience. Marketing specialists who speak of "engagement metrics" but have never stayed up all night debugging code or redesigning a level that wasn't quite fun enough.

I recently spoke with the CEO of a game company at GDC 2025 in San Francisco. They almost never spend money on user acquisition, yet they have managed to create over 12 million downloads with just 15 employees. Bravo! I want to see more game makers do this and focus their attention on what players genuinely want. Everything else is just noise.

This isn't just frustration speaking—it's a concern for an industry I love. When distributors take up to 30% of revenue before developers see a penny, leaving creators with as little as $4 from a $20 game sale, something is fundamentally broken. Even a viral hit with 100,000 sales might yield only $400,000—which, divided among a small team over years of development, barely provides a living wage.

The Heavy Lifting of Game Creation

Creating games is challenging yet beautiful work. It requires technical expertise, artistic vision, and a willingness to solve endless problems. The people doing this work—the programmers writing elegant code, the artists crafting immersive worlds, and the designers balancing challenge and reward—are the heart and soul of our industry.

Yet, these are often the first to suffer when times get tough. Junior developers and mid-level staff—those who do much of the heavy lifting—face disproportionate layoffs, while layers of management remain intact. The scale is staggering: over 11,400 game industry professionals have lost their jobs since the beginning of 2024, with major cuts at Microsoft (2,150 people), Unity (1,800), and Sony Interactive Entertainment (900). I've watched talented creators leave the industry entirely, taking their passion and potential with them.

This pattern breaks my heart because I know what these creators are capable of. Some of gaming's most groundbreaking ideas have come from developers themselves—or even players modifying existing games. Genres like MOBAs and tactical shooters originated from grassroots creativity rather than corporate planning. Innovation thrives when creators are empowered, not when they're buried under layers of bureaucracy.

A Simpler, More Direct Path Forward

The digital revolution has eliminated many of the practical reasons we needed middlemen in the first place. Publishers traditionally manufactured physical products and managed retail relationships—tasks largely irrelevant in today's digital marketplace. The shift is clear: 83% of console gaming revenue in 2023 was digital, totaling $44.16 billion of the global $53.2 billion. As one industry observer noted, "back in the day a publisher was required because if you wanted to fill shelves at Walmart... you needed a publisher... but we live in a landscape now that is much more straight to digital".

Yet instead of embracing this opportunity to create more direct relationships between developers and players, we've seen consolidation. Large companies are buying up studios and IPs, positioning themselves as gatekeepers rather than facilitators. This isn't just about business models—it's about the soul of our industry.

What Players Really Want

I've spent nearly four decades listening to players, and I know what they value: innovation, quality, and heart. They want games that surprise them, challenge them, and move them. They don't care about marketing buzzwords or corporate structures—they care about experiences.

As one gaming community meme puts it: "I want shorter games with worse graphics made by people who are paid more to work less and I'm not kidding". This sentiment reflects a growing awareness among players that the human cost of game development matters. Players are increasingly wise to and fatigued with bloated games produced at enormous personal cost to creators.

A Call From the Heart

So where do we go from here? How do we build a healthier industry that serves both creators and players?

First, we need to streamline development pipelines. Many studios are bogged down by inefficient workflows and excessive layers of approval. By simplifying these processes, we can free up developers to focus on what they do best: making games.

Second, we need to rebalance budgets. Marketing is important, but it shouldn't overshadow development. We need to ensure that resources go toward building quality games rather than just promoting them.

Finally, and most importantly, we need to empower developers. Give creative teams more say in decision-making processes. Trust their expertise and passion. After all, they're the ones who understand what makes games special.

Conclusion: Back to What Matters

After nearly four decades in this industry, I've learned that what matters most isn't fancy marketing campaigns or complex distribution networks—it's the connection between creators and players. It's the moment when someone experiences something you've built and finds joy, challenge, or meaning in it.

The video game industry doesn't need more noise; it needs more signal. It doesn't need more middlemen; it needs more makers. In these challenging times, let's focus on what truly matters: creating meaningful experiences for players around the world.

This isn't just about business—it's about preserving the magic that drew us all to games in the first place. Let's build an industry that values creators, respects players, and remembers why we fell in love with games to begin with.

From my heart to yours—let's get back to making games.