By now, I have written over 60 articles and close to
250 comedy capsules for a dozen different publications.
I just found out that I will be hosting roundtables at
the GDC for the third straight year. I am about six
weeks away from signing off on my second book. And yet,
I get more reader email discussing my old diatribe
"How to Screw Up a
Perfectly Good Game Company in 10 Easy Steps,"
published over two and a half years ago, than all other
topics combined.
That got me thinking: did this article (and
its sequel, published in
these esteemed pages in October 2000) age well? Is its
advice still relevant?
So I went back, re-read them both, and put together
the following notes and thoughts. Including a couple of
extra ways to inflict grievous damage on ourselves
without even really trying.
Old Trick #1: Still Choosing the Wrong Product
In the original article, I mentioned meeting
numerous teams that had made the mistake of betting
their futures on me-too games for which they didn't even
have any distinguishing skills. Well, it has been 30
months since then, 36-48 months since these teams got to
work, and not one of them ever shipped a complete game.
Between the wasted time and effort, the wages they could
have earned working elsewhere instead of slaving away on
non-paid pipe dreams, and the investments that never
yielded a single dollar in sales, I estimate that these
bad ideas have cost their owners the equivalent of
several millions of dollars.
And yet, most of the hopefuls who contact me for
advice these days are still making the same mistake –
the only difference is that now, instead of copying
Quake, they want to copy Starcraft or
Grand Theft Auto. And they're miffed at me when I
tell them they don't have a prayer.
If you're a beginning game development team looking
for a project, look at the games that have shown
enduring power in the best-seller lists in the past few
years – but as sources of business inspiration, not as
cloning material. Some of these games, like Diablo II
and Half-Life, fit into well-established genres,
but they are picture-perfect implementations. Many
others, like The Sims and Roller Coaster
Tycoon, are very hard to compare to anything.
The lesson: to make a hit, you either need to be
better than the competition, which is hard when you
don't have any money, or you need to hit where the
competition isn't, which isn't easy either, but may at
least be doable. Remember that Roller Coaster Tycoon
was pretty much made by one person!
Old Trick #2: Relying on Games' Appeal to Replace
Decent Salaries
Here, the situation has improved somewhat. If you
take a look at the most recent salary survey published
by Game Developer magazine and the IGDA, you will
notice that we're making pretty good money these days.
Not nearly as much money as the dot-com crowd banked in
their heydey, and not quite as much as we could be
earning elsewhere, but plenty enough to live on. I
thought this would occur, and it did: game companies in
my area have been hiring Ph.D.s and stealing people away
from other sectors of the high-tech business, so they
have to offer competitive packages.
Now, if we could only do something about these hours…
Old Trick #3: Fighting With Publishers
I keep hearing horror stories about the business
practices of game publishers – but most of them come
from people from outside the industry, and they sound
suspiciously like urban legends.
Sure, some releases get bungled, and some (many?)
contracts that publishers submit to developers are
disgustingly one-sided, but new developers who come into
the industry expecting every single publisher to act
like Genghis Khan or Kenneth Lay are only hurting
themselves.
Be careful, hire a good lawyer, but don't assume that
the publisher is the enemy – even if the economics of
the industry make it easier for him to make money on
your game than it is for you. And once the contract is
signed, don't circle the wagon at every single request:
chances are everyone is acting in good faith and just
trying to make the game better. You'll have to work with
the publisher for years, and you may want to make
another deal with them someday, so keep the relationship
amicable until you have definite proof that the other
side deserves anything else.
New Trick #1: Deprive Yourself of Resources
I've ranted and raved about this before, but it
bears repeating: why is it that so many game companies
can't bear the thought of integrating the Internet into
their business practices?
Some people will subcontract pieces of their
productions to specialists located in Russia, India or
Brazil. Others will insist that all potential employees
relocate to their place of business, and that
contractors travel to their premises for assignments of
any duration. Who will have access to the largest pool
of resources?
And while an everyone-on-site policy is viable if
your company is based in Austin or Laguna Beach,
enforcing a similar rule when based in South Africa or
Iceland (two examples that I have seen with my own eyes)
will kill you.
On a related note, make sure that your other company
policies don't cause you more harm than good. Small
cubicles cost less than closed offices, but how much do
they cost in reduced productivity? Do you really get
more out of an employee who gets 2 weeks of annual
vacation than out of one who gets 4? And even if you do,
how many good people will not even consider working for
you because of the rules? Will you still be able to fill
every position with good talent, or will you have to
settle for whatever you can get?
New Trick #2: Accept Contracts That Can't Possibly
Work Out
On several occasions, I have had clients disappear
without a trace when I told them that making their games
for them would cost two to forty times what they were
prepared to pay.
One company, in particular, called me half a dozen
times, hyping the prestige of their project (linked to a
successful TV series) and pressing me to lead their
effort. They had an impossibly tight schedule, tough
requirements, a big design, and enormous sales
expectations – but still balked at a budget that barely
grazed six figures. My best guess is that they thought I
(and whomever I brought in as my partners) should be
grateful for the exposure and not expect much more.
There is always work to be had at bargain-basement
prices. Don't take it. Postponing starvation is one
thing, but what is the point of an assignment that
doesn't even cover your burn rate and prevents you from
looking for something better?
Conclusion
Any industry with a turnover rate like ours is bound
to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. Or is
it?
I'm happy to report that the development company
births that I have witnessed over the last year or so
have been much smoother than before, because the
principals have been researching the experiences of
their predecessors. Sure, the game industry is still a
tough place to break into, and there are no guarantees
of success, but I am heartened by the fact that sites
like this one and the ever-growing game development book
collections are making the process a little easier.
After all, there is nothing that I would like better
than to get out of the Top 10 mistake list writing
business. I'm sure we can find something else to talk
about.
