How to get out of the computer games industry

This is Dave. He specialises in HLSL programming and PS3 SPU optimisation code. He decided that losing his house was preferable to wearing a shirt.

This is Dave. He specialises in HLSL programming and PS3 SPU optimisation code. He is homeless, but still very proud that he doesn't wear a shirt for work.

I browse through the big-kid magazines in Smith’s regularly, under the pathetic pretense of “research” or “industry awareness” (or other such nonsense).

I note that quite a few of the gaming magazines have been doing articles or pull-out supplements entitled “How to get into the games industry”.

I flick through them, and find myself reading about a magical and mysterious world. An industry that requires – no, demands – talented maths-geniuses with Rainman-like observational skills for programmers, concept artists with a Michaelangelo-like grasp of light and shade, and even animators that can walk and chew gum at the same time.

This vexes me. I worry that all this time I have been in a completely different games industry; one chock-full of sociopaths, bipolar disorders, “Care in the Community” cases and abundant facial hair. I look at the requirements and job spec for what computer-games columnists class as a programmer, and realise there is no way I could do it. I have been living a lie this last decade; I am a fraud and a charlatan. Soon I will be found out, banished to work in McDonald’s for eternity – never achieving more than two stars on my nametag.

I wonder at the audience these articles are aimed at. Clearly not for me, nor for anyone actually in the games industry – upon reading such articles, they would assuredly emit a hollow, dead laugh. Then their eyes would turn cold and glassy; they would privately ponder at What Might Have Been, had they found a Proper Job and learnt how to tie a tie. In an alternate reality, perhaps they are spending this evening in their middle-class houses, with their middle-class children, talking about middle-class things … rather than what they’ll actually be doing in this reality: up until 3am, attempting to defeat the dwarven general Vanndar Stormpike before returning to Voggah Deathgrip in the Alterac Mountains.

These articles seem aimed at the 11-16 year old market. The boys for whom to even know someone in the industry would be an impossible dream. The boys who gaze upon shelf after shelf of Playstation game in awe, and wonder at what magical and unspoken doings must go in to computer games development. What hijinx! What larks! What mysterious and supernatural ingredients must be thrown into the melting-pot of next-generation interactive entertainment!

Oh boy, they’re in for a shock if they ever get in.

Anyway, the popularity of these articles got me thinking: if people are writing articles for the pimply-faced youth eager to get into the industry, perhaps there’s a need amongst those bitter and cynical husks of human beings who want to get out!

Well, challenge accepted. May I present for you some extremely cynical tips on what you should consider when embarking on the Great Quest known as “Growing Up”.

How to get out of the computer games industry

1. Consider all those long hours you’ve just done. All that “crunch”. All that stress. All that bloody free pizza. Now realise that this won’t stop your game getting lukewarn 6-out-of-10 reviews, nor save it from the bargain bin in three months. No one cares.

2. Consider what all your friends “in the real world” think of your exciting job. Think about all the times they say “Ooo, you must be paid a fortune!”. Now look at the car you’re driving. Exactly. Realise that no matter what the public thinks, the days of the humble developer becoming a millionaire overnight are long gone.

3. Realise that point number 2 is not entirely correct. If you own a games company, then you’re probably a millionaire. Do you own the company? No, you don’t. All the many long hours you’ve just done have helped to pay for your employer’s new Porsche Cayenne (because his other one was six months old and in danger of losing that “brand new” smell) but when you ask he’s still going to tell you that there’s no money in the budget for a payrise.

4. Consider whether all your years of hard work are actually going to be noticed. There’s that job coming up, isn’t there? That oneĀ  you know you’d be perfect for? That everyone around you tells you you’d be perfect for? Well, you’re not going to get it. They’re not even going to consider you. That job is going to one of the Director’s drinking buddies, because he’s still treating the whole place like its some sort of “Sim Computer-Games-Company” and he can do whatever he bleeding-well likes.

5. Try a shirt on. Did you dissolve when you put it on? No, you didn’t. Now try the tie. Oops, never mind; we’ll have another go tomorrow. We can work on that whole auto-asphyxiation thing. But understand that mastering those two pieces of clothing is not quite as impossible as you first thought. Next week we’ll discuss your flipflops.

6. Here’s a thing: there are such things as “normal” employers, who like their staff to wear such shirts. They will only ask you to work until 5:30pm every day, will never ask you to work weekends … and will pay you more for it. Isn’t that crazy?

7. It is possible to sit at a desk without putting your feet up on it. Really, it is.

8. Learn to keep the voices in your head in your head. Make no reference to them. Ignore them, even when they start arguing with each other. You’ll soon find that you can pretend to be normal. If we can crack that, then you’re well on your way towards finding a Proper Job.

9. Don’t put your Geometry Wars hi-scores on your CV, no matter how good they are. The same goes for your Xbox Live score. These are not actually considered valuable qualities in most other industries.

10. Don’t think of it as “leaving the games industry”. Don’t think of it as “growing up”. Don’t even think of it as “moving on”. Think of it as simply “signing-in to a new profile”.

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