The Video Game Industry, Part I

The First Sad Truth About the Video Game Industry

Star Blazer, the Apple II game that cemented my desire to become a game programmer.

I wanted to work in the video game industry ever since I was a kid and the Atari 2600 was the state-of-the-art video game console. I had tons of ideas for the type of games I wanted to develop. Being a fan of D&D, most were along the RPG vein, but were still very innovative (in my mind) and would cause a revolution in the game industry.

At the time, the only way to get into the industry and make your own games was to be a programmer. The meager capabilities of the era's computer's didn't require a professional artist, so the programmer could generate most of the art: the industry hadn't matured to the point where there was a need for a division of labor. Unfortunately, times being as they were, apart from the dismal joke of a language BASIC, there was little information on how to develop games. So, despite all the clawing and scraping and digging I did to find out any information on assembly—the only language games could be developed in—I had to wait until college where I finally learned assembly, in addition to two real development languages: C and C++.

To make a long story short, I landed a job at Accolade in tech support, then testing. Eventually I was recruited by Gary Strawn into programming, my real goal. I had a blast! Working at a video game developer was great: the workplace was casual, the people were great, the work was interesting and I got free games! I also got to talk about video games all day without people thinking I was some kind of freak.

But I was programming a golf game, not a type of game I really was interested in developing. The truth started to emerge.

Then I moved onto Utah and several small developers. I had been in the industry several years by this point and not once had I worked on a game I was really interested in. I had never even been able to pitch one of my ideas. The work was still good, I made a decent living, I worked with great people, but I wasn't doing what I set out to do in the industry. By this point, I wasn't dead-set on developing an industry changing game, just one of my own games would be fine. Actually, even working on someone else's game that was even in a genre I liked would have been preferable. But I kept getting stuck on games that I couldn't have cared less about: a combat driving shooter, a professional wrestling game, a mediocre third-person action game. Actually, some of those sound like they could be fun, but not the way they were designed. But, working on them was what I was paid to do.

And it was hard. Writing code wasn't a problem (though not always easy), but we were often required to work crunch time. Sometimes I went weeks without seeing my wife and kids, since I was working 60 to 80 hours a week to meet a milestone (a milestone that marketing set, not engineering, but that's another issue). And still I wasn't working on games that I wasn't interested in.

Eventually I got to pitch a few game ideas. While immediate management loved them, they ultimately went nowhere.

One glimmer of hope materialized with Hasbro: I was hired to work on X-COM: Genesis. X-COM was one of my favorite game franchises and I was stoked to work on the first 3D title in the series. But Hasbro Interactive shut down a few weeks after hiring me (no, it wasn't my fault).

So the truth made itself manifest:

Working in the video game industry, it is unlikely you ever develop one of your own ideas.

The only people who develop their own ideas are the indy's—that's why there are so many of them. Working 60 to 80 hours a week on someone else's dream game isn't all that fun. And even if the game was fun initially, after playing it for the 100th time in four hours, it won't be fun anymore. I didn't know if any of the games I shipped were fun or not. After playing it over and over thousands of times, I couldn't tell. I didn't want to look at it anymore. I knew where all the flaws were, and knew how to beat the AI. Was it fun? I had no idea whatsoever.

But my plan wasn't flawed, I just waited too long to execute it. If I actually could've begun programming in the early 1980s, I could've developed my own ideas. I could've started a MicroProse or an Origin Systems. But due to circumstances as they were, I couldn't. The guys who started Origin and MicroProse became fabulously wealthy developing their own games. But they were able to do that because they were fish in a very small pond. Now the video game industry is a very big pond: actually it's a very large lake. Every two-bit developer has a game idea he wants to develop, but no publisher is going to give him a chance. It doesn't matter if the idea is fantastic. The large publishers are going to develop knock-offs, sequels or games by known game designers who often turn out hits (Will Wright, Sid Meier, Brian Reynolds). Video game developers/publishers aren't going to take a chance on an unknown agent, no matter how hot his idea is.

So, if you want to get into the video game industry, more power to you. It's still a good way to make a living in a casual, fun atmosphere. But don't delude yourself into thinking you'll develop your own games and make millions of dollars doing it, because chances are, you won't.