GI 100 | Game Changers

When Zain Fahadh looked at the Indian games industry in 2014, he didn't see the kind of creativity he valued the most. The development scene was dominated by service and support companies, and studios trying to ride the wave of mobile gaming. Recognisable "indies" were, if not entirely absent, then certainly few and far between.

"I started Ogre Head Studio because I did not find any other avenue to let out my creative thirst, and I wanted to create a space where we could make games without any outside influence," he says. "Everyone around said that we -- the Indian industry -- were incapable of creating games for the global audience, especially in the PC/console space, and we wanted to prove otherwise."

Fahadh, a Muslim from southern India, grew up with a mix of Indian and foreign cultural influences. As a child, he would blend these worlds together, creating his own "epic stories" from bits and parts of the comics, books and video games he had access to. When he founded Ogre Head, it was only natural to continue in the same vein.

"I use Indian culture because it is part of who I am and what I represent -- I am tremendously inspired by it every single day," he says. "Indian mythology had been used in very small projects -- casual mobile games -- but never in any significant manner. If it was ever used in any media, it was always extremely dull, regurgitating the same story over and over again without any passion or style."

Ogre Head committed to using the country's mythology for its first project, Asura, targeting the console and PC markets. It was made by two full-time staff and a few contractors, and it exceeded Fahadh's hopes both critically and commercially. Just as important, though, was the message it sent to others in India's growing industry: mobile and outsourcing were not the only options available; you could express yourself and build a sustainable business.

"The support and accolades that we received around the world were incredible," Fahadh says. "The South Indian government honored us for our contribution, which is unprecedented as games were not considered seriously back then. Various outlets from the Indian press supported us, printing us on the first page, which was really the first time a game made in India was garnering such coverage."

Ogre Head is currently working on a new turn-based game, Yodha, which once again uses Indian culture as its inspiration. And Fahadh is no longer alone in exploring those possibilities -- a straight line can be drawn from Asura to a game like Nodding Heads' Raji An Ancient Epic, which was regarded as another milestone for India's industry when it launched this year.

"I am happy that more people are finding inspiration from Indian mythology and culture," he says. "I don't know how much Ogre Head or Asura was an influence for Nodding Heads, but any game developer who finds success among us is only better for the Indian industry as a whole.

"I have tried my very best to share our experience creating games and running a game studio in the hopes of helping others in their journey. It gives me immense pleasure when others dare to dream and then realize it."

Gaming is a participatory medium, and in a world where people can feel isolated from each other and the systems that govern them, that has power. The Bangalore-based non-profit group Fields of View is determined to harness that potential, designing games and simulations that encourage people to engage with important issues.

"Our aim is to improve the dialogue in policymaking using play," says Harsha Krishna, a researcher at Fields of View. "What if we could play with a model of the world? We can then have an informed dialogue by stepping into each other's shoes, explore different options, and examine the trade-offs and consequences of different pathways."

The organisation has a multidisciplinary team, spanning technology, social sciences, art, law and design -- a broad range of experience that feeds into its projects. The ideal candidate for Fields of View, Krishna says, are "people who are driven by curiosity and are comfortable with a culture of respectful dialogue."

Examples of the group's work are "Made to Order," which asked participants to step into the shoes of people of another gender, caste or class, and "Weight of Labels," which used a physical game to examine the difficulty that students of different ethnic backgrounds face when looking for work.

"When we started Fields of View, we did face hesitation and challenges from stakeholders," Krishna says of the perception of gaming as a leisure activity. "However, once the value of using such tools became evident, the conversations became easier.

"At another level, as people do not take games seriously, they do not mind failing in the games and trying out different options, and that becomes crucial to imagining alternatives and different futures. Thus, the view that games are non-serious makes them more effective tools."

Over its nine years in operation, Fields of View has built up compelling evidence that games and play can make democratic policymaking more "rapid, relevant and responsive." If the group has one aim for the future, it is to work even more closely with governments, industries and institutions.

"We view industries as stakeholders in our projects and not just as funders," Krishna adds. "Thus, we would love to work with industries who would like to commit to the research by working with us to develop proposals and the eventual projects. This would not only allow us to understand the needs of industry, but also help industries to work better with communities."

"I always wanted to be a game developer, but growing up it seemed like a dream of being an astronaut."

Poland may be growing a reputation for acclaimed games, from CD Projekt Red's AAA epics to 11 Bit Studios' celebrated This War of Mine, but the opportunities for its residents to work in games were not always available.

For Marta Fijak, a self-described "Polish girl from the middle of nowhere," it seemed unobtainable, but she persevered and worked to the point where not only is she lead game designer at 11 Bit, but she's also curator at IndieCade Europe -- having helped organise the first online edition of the indie event earlier this year -- and frequently speaks at conferences of all sizes.

She even mentored for an initiative called Maker Teens: Girl Power, where she helped a girl code her first game during a three-month program -- anything to get her message about potential careers in games out there.

While she takes part in a multitude of conferences, Fijak recognises there are still hurdles that limit some folks' ability to attend, and is keen to see more alternatives emerge.

"I think what is key is creating many events that have a low barrier of entry, so people starting out can meet people who already work in game development," she says. "And when I say low barriers of entry, I mean low costs for participation fees and online options, so traveling expenses and mobility issues are not a problem."

Fijak thanks those who have supported her in her career so far, especially 11 Bit Studios' project lead Jakub Stokalski and former game designer Artur Ganszyniec, as well her wife for "supporting me in the most ridiculous of my ideas."

Looking ahead, she is keen to continue raising awareness of the potential for a career in games development -- especially to young girls who aspire to be games makers. She also hopes to see more actually take a chance and pursue that dream.

"Many girls don't see it as a viable option for a career path. That's why exposing girls interested in the topic to women who already work in that field is one way to tackle the problem."

While every country has unique issues to face when pushing for greater diversity, in virtually every global region the archetypal image of a 'game developer' is straight and male. For LeeYing Foo, a UI/UX designer based in Malaysia, challenging that perception is an essential part of making a greater variety of people feel welcome in the industry.

"In Malaysia, while there are exceptions, there's still a perception of what a game dev is supposed to look like, and many people don't fit into that mold," she says. "It's not often publicly talked about, but like with my own experience, many people still struggle to navigate this space in terms of their own identity.

"When I first entered the industry, I felt like I didn't belong as a woman and a queer person, and for years I always thought that I was the problem. After speaking to other folks, I realised that they felt the same way, and when you see other people having to deal with the same issues, you really start to draw a line."

That line was drawn in 2019, with the founding of WiGout in Kuala Lumpur. Foo wanted to create a safe space for women and underrepresented groups to gather, "where marginalised folks in the industry can be their authentic selves without having to put up a front or feel the pressure of having to 'prove' themselves as 'real' games dev professionals."

WiGout's activities are entirely driven by its members, and Foo says that is very much by design -- the group exists to benefit the community, and so the community's needs direct its actions. There have been panels showcasing the backgrounds and creative processes of individuals in the group, workshops on specific skills, and "rice cracker parties" where people can simply gather in an open and accepting environment.

Foo mentions three people as integral to WiGout: Malaysian games writer Priya Kulasagaran, and lecturers Ng Yiing Y'ng and Nabila Zakaria. She has also been well supported by her partner and her friends, all of whom served as confidants when she felt overwhelmed.

In terms of the future, Foo hopes to see a greater recognition that improving diversity in the industry will require consistent action.

"While there's been a bigger push for diversity in recent years, there's also the danger of tokenism," she continues. "People may talk about 'women in games' once a year, and celebrate that, but if there's no concrete action for making women feel more welcomed and safe in the industry, it's just a box-ticking exercise.

"Diversity is not just about gender or ethnicity; it's also about the diversity of creative direction and design itself, in the sense that many publishers, and even game devs themselves, still think that games need to look a certain way or cater to a specific market in order to 'sell'. So it's not easy for a Malaysian game dev to make something that deeply represents our culture and our stories because these are not seen as being profitable enough.

"We can do as much work as we want, but if the industry as a whole is not receptive or open to these ideas, then it's going to be very hard to change things for the better - for everyone."

When Mayara Fortin started in the Brazilian games industry in 2015, its issues with diversity were all too clear. "All it usually took was a look around the room" -- she was one of the few women present, while women's voices were seldom given a platform or heard at industry events.

"The games industry in Brazil is growing and changing, but so far it mostly fails to reflect Brazilian society," she says. "Over half of the population in Brazil is Black or of Black [descendancy], while less than 10% of people working in the industry are from that group. Over half of our gamers are women, though they are still a minority in our industry especially when it comes to leadership roles and technology.

"These numbers get even smaller when looked at closer: a lot of these women are in areas not directly involved in the game making process, and Black people are rarely in positions of leadership or decision-making."

Brazil is not alone in struggling with diversity, Fortin points out, but her commitment to making a difference has been absolute. She was one of the founding members of the Diversity Council at Abragames, the Brazilian games association, creating a platform from which real change could be made.

"Soon enough we noticed that we were talking about a much bigger and much more complex issue," she says. "It was not just about visibility; it was about representation, voice, opportunities, and respect. So the next logical step was structuring the Council, planning our actions based on potential impacts, as well as opening up the space for other people to join and represent more diversity groups."

Among the many initiatives Fortin spearheaded was a national "Stamp for Diversity" that awarded games companies and events for their representation of gender, sexuality, race, and people with disabilities. Recognising "how alien the terms 'diversity and inclusion' were to many people in the industry," the Council created online resources and materials to improve education and awareness, and partnered with events to ensure the presence of underrepresented groups.

Fortin is quick to point out the contributions of other members of the Diversity Council, including Marina Pecoraro, Camila Malaman, Gustavo Arcanjo and Carolina Caravana -- "none of the great work would have been possible without them." There is still a great deal of progress to be made, she says, but change for the better is already apparent.

"I feel that as an industry we are improving and moving towards a more diverse environment one step at a time," she says. "In a way, that is what keeps me hopeful and committed even when I know we still have a long way to go.

"Women, LGBT+ and Black people have slowly been occupying more spaces, speaking up about their issues and points of view. I believe that is the key step for real change."

Video games is a global business with a global marketplace, and yet opportunity is not equally shared across the many countries where games are made. The regions that receive less support and attention from international publishers and media generally have to work harder to achieve their goals -- and there are often specific people who make huge personal effort to benefit the whole.

In the Philippines, few people fit that description better than Gwendelyn Foster. She has worked at the consultancy firm Robot Teddy since the start of the year, but her importance to the country's development scene -- and that of Southeast Asia in general -- has been invaluable for years: a board member of IGDA Philippines and regional coordinator for Asia-Pacific, a founding member of the Rising SEA experimental game showcase, curator of the Indie Fiesta showcase, a long-serving part of the Global Game Jam until this year, and much more besides.

"The local scene is adaptable and ever changing, always adjusting to the times," Foster says. "A lot of commercially successful games have found a niche global audience, which means studios can keep making games. We do our best to support and recognize these talents and skills, through a massive network of recommendations [and] hiring, while at the same time ensuring the community has access to resources."

This speaks to an aspect of community leadership that is harder to quantify with a list of roles and responsibilities. Foster emphasises the importance of simply making introductions at the right moment, and sharing knowledge on a one-to-one basis whenever required.

"Whenever there's a job opening at one of the studios we work with, I repost those job descriptions and talk to a bunch of folks who I'd know would fit the role very well," she says. "At the same time, I stay clear of the job listings and process of hiring as much as possible to ensure they are recognized for the talent and skills they already have."

Foster is also a developer, and part of the recently established Chikon Club, a collective working on a game that will showcase Philippine culture and talent, and do so while retaining global appeal. These two ideas don't appear to be incompatible, but Foster has encountered that basic attitude within the traditional industry strongholds in Europe and North America many times, in many ways.

"As an example, someone with three years [experience] from Europe would be treated as a senior versus someone with 15 years of experience from Southeast Asia, who would be considered a junior -- which isn't right," she says.

"There is a lot of unpaid overtime work, people sacrifice their time to be considered 'passable'. Studios who work with AAA titles aren't offered co-development status, when every AAA title is built upon a network of studios and people from around the world. They're in the credits, sure, but mainstream media frames it in a way that it's the main studio, but it's really a lot of people who've made it possible."

Helping Foster means the industry and the media making a greater commitment to challenging these insidious forms of inequality, recognising that glass ceilings and gate keeping don't just exist within national industries, but across global borders.

"Making games and shipping games in itself is already hard, but it's so much harder for someone if you weren't born in the 'right' country," she says. "You have to deal with government restrictions, inaccessibility to funding, lack of access to studios which have made a lot of people leave their countries for opportunities overseas even if they never wanted to leave in the first place.

"Hire the immense talent in Southeast Asia, fund their games with the right deals, write about our games, follow the incredible developers. This shouldn't just be my work -- it should be a conscious decision for all of us to support and widen our knowledge of the global games industry."

If one game had to demonstrate the power of games to create a better understanding of our culture and our past, it would be Paintbucket Games' Through the Darkest of Times.

"When we started working on the concept for Through the Darkest of Times, the UK had just been voting for Brexit, Trump had become president, and racist and totalitarian political parties and movements were getting more influence all over Europe, the world, and Germany," says co-founder and game designer Jörg Friedrich.

"'Never again!', referring to the Nazi era and the Holocaust, is a statement in which I was educated by my parents, who had experienced the end of the war as children. A statement that I had always seen as the foundation for our modern civilisation, a statement that could never be questioned and would help us define what is right and wrong for the future.

"But looking at the world around me, I was -- and still am -- not so sure anymore that 'Never again!' was still a consensus. Through the Darkest of Times is a game that says 'Never again!"

Through the Darkest of Times is the story of civilian resistance fighters in Nazi Germany -- regular people with families, with normal jobs, who decided to fight and risk their lives to stop an inhumane regime. Friedrich and co-founder Sebastian St. Schulz believed the story needed to be told, and Through the Darkest of Times became one of the first two games to be allowed to use Nazi symbols by the German certification board.

Through their work, Friedrich and Paintbucket Games want to question the current status quo in the way history is learnt through games. While studios don't always omit facts on purpose, they often want to avoid controversy, which can be an issue.

"If someone [were to] learn everything [they] know about Nazism from games, [they] might conclude that Nazis are villains like the Empire in Star Wars: somewhat evil, but they have cool uniforms and tanks, and are just a faction like any other," he says. "I find it problematic that most games with Nazis do not even mention the murderous anti-Semitism, the slow rise of fascism, or the Shoah, because they create an image of history in which these events might have never happened.

"If you think mentioning the historical crimes of the Nazis is inappropriate for your game, maybe picking Nazis as a faction or theme for your game is what is inappropriate here. However, I would like to see games that do pick difficult historical themes, and rather than just avoiding controversy by omitting critical parts, to think of ways to include them in an appropriate manner. Video games have the potential of becoming an important part of our remembrance culture."

Technically, the Game Devs of Color Expo began in 2016, but the group's six organizers -- Chris Algoo, Shawn Allen, Brian Carr, Brian S. Chung, GJ Lee, and Catt Small -- had already been collaborating on and even organizing game events together for years.

"As people of color based in the New York City/New Jersey metro area, we looked around at our own 'industry' -- in a city that is rather diverse in large numbers -- and we were frustrated," they say. "Frustrated because of a lack of visible PoC in the games industry, and frustrated at the mountains we were all having to climb just to find that visibility, not to mention support, publishers, media coverage, and other forms of success.

"In games, it's not enough to just make great work, no matter who you are. There are just a lot of walls that exist to even being able to afford to make games, getting those games featured by the media, getting prime placement at PAX and other events, and eventually releasing. The barriers are even higher when you come from a background that isn't represented in the space as is."

In an effort to bring those barriers down a bit, Small and Algoo founded the GDoC Expo to see if an event specific to creators of color would even be viable. Once it became very clear just how viable it was, Small and Algoo grew the organizing team, and the show followed suit.

This September's online-only fifth installment of the show was the biggest -- and most global -- one yet, with Valve running a four-day Gradient Convergence sales event on Steam featuring Game Devs of Color titles, No More Robots providing $15,000 grants for five creators, and Humble Bundle providing the winner of the Humble Bundle Game Creators of Color Award with $15,000 in support and a distribution deal.

Of course, the show wouldn't be possible without speakers to present talks, developers of color to showcase their games, and a staff of people to help put it on, with this year in particular requiring new roles like chat moderators and live stream scheduling and management. The organizers make sure to pay everyone for their work, something they readily acknowledge is only possible because of their sponsors, a roster of companies encouragingly featuring many of the biggest names in the industry.

"Our event is for the industry. Our goal is to continue to embolden and empower creators, educators, marketers, musicians, etc. of color to share their expertise, to give their first talks, to show off their great games, and find them an audience and a place in the greater games space," they say. "So we thank everyone who helps make that a reality."

In turn, the industry can thank the Game Devs of Color Expo organizers by furthering the show's mission, making sure that game developers of color "get the best help they can, while also working to make the culture around games better" for the long haul.

"To help devs of color in general, we need access to funds to help devs make their games, access to featured placement in algorithm driven storefronts to help get games out into the world and seen by as many people as possible, access to tools to help us run our event which just keeps growing, and much more. If you can provide any of that access, or something similar, our mailbox is always open."

While pursuing a master's degree at research institute i3, Elaine Gómez was involved in a year-long research project evaluating the representation of women in games and game development.

"I was inspired by all our findings to be the change I wanted to see and decided to go after game design education in hopes of joining the industry," she says.

After graduating from USC's Interactive Media and Games MFA program in 2016, Gómez taught game design and development classes at various institutions before landing a job as a game designer at E-Line Media. She still works there today, wearing many different hats ranging from gameplay design to UI/UX design.

In keeping with her educational inspirations, Gómez is also one of the co-founders of Latinx in Gaming. She works to build a safe and inclusive community that elevates Latinx-identifying creators in the US, Latin America, and Caribbean games industries.

"Being a co-founder and staff member of the Latinx in Gaming team has allowed me to actively be the difference and change that I want to see in the industry," Gómez says. "We have the power to change people's lives, and that has been something that has been very rewarding for me to see."

Gómez acknowledges she had to make sacrifices to pursue her dreams, but attributes her resilience and perseverance to those close to her, including her professors, her parents, and friends. But she wants to see support extended to all women of color, not just from their close networks, but from the industry as a whole.

"The best way for the industry to support me is by elevating and investing in women of color into positions of leadership where we can make a big impact," she says. "It will set us up for success and allow us to become leaders not just in our disciplines, but in advocacy and representation for the next generation of game makers."

While Gwen Guo is the co-founder and creative director of a respected audio company, Imba Interactive, to the games industry in Singapore she is so much more -- a bedrock of the local community, a committed member of its core organisations, and now chairperson of the Singapore Games Association (SGGA).

Guo was a key member of the team that turned the grassroots Singapore Games Guild (SGG) into a registered society, qualifying its members for the kind of grants and subsidies that help to establish careers. The SGG -- which became the Singapore Games Association -- also bridged the gap, as Guo describes, "between what schools teach and what the industry needs, in order to equip graduates with the necessary skills to be employable or start their own indie studios."

"With SGGA formed, most of these initiatives still stand, since the community forms the bedrock of our industry," she continues. "However, being a trade association means more responsibilities and being more company-centric rather than individual. On top of what we previously did at SGG, we now speak to international stakeholders, government, and corporations to build the necessary bridges between each other."

As an entrepreneur herself, Guo is alive to the way Singapore's cultural and societal norms can stand in the way of the industry's progress. Video games is a risky business, she explains, and while a reduction in government grants since 2015 have made careers in fintech seem more appealing to many, there are larger forces in play.

"The more insidious problem is really society's fear of failure and the constant pressure to afford a house, raise children, and support your parents. What we really need to do is explore ways we can support these game businesses via mentorship and financial assistance so founders can make amazing games without feeling around in the dark when it comes to survivability."

Guo is one of the principal figures addressing these big picture issues in Singapore, another of which is diversity. A regular voice on panels about the subject at events, she was also an early member of the MYSG Allies in Games group, a collaborative effort from women in the Malaysian and Singaporean industries.

"We held dialogue sessions to share about the state of diversity in our respective countries, shared stories and played games together," Guo says. "The group also did a fantastic job in ensuring that their local events get more diverse representation. Shortly after I became chairperson of SGGA, I stepped back from the group and focused my efforts on the association instead, while supporting the group in whatever way I can."

One of the next barriers for Guo is better representation for Singapore's LGBTQ+ developers, which she laments is "unfortunately a touchy topic" in a broadly conservative region. While there is no official representative group, the SGGA worked with Sagakaya (of which Guo is also a member) and the queer-friendly platform Prout on the Heritage Game Jam, allowing an event not explicitly about gender identity to be more inclusive. Through consistent action of this kind, Guo believes that further positive change in the Singaporean industry is possible.

"We [still] have a serious lack of women founders in the indie game and tech space, save a handful who I have utmost respect for," she says. "However, there has been a heartening rise of indie studios who have more than 40% women employees -- albeit male-run. I am hopeful that there will be more diverse leaders in the gaming space in the next five years, as employees may eventually become founders one day."

Marija Ilic is the co-founder and chief product officer of Two Desperados, a Serbian studio that not only promotes parity between men and women, but has also achieved it -- half of its team members are women. Ilic is also one of the few female studio founders in Serbia.

"Two Desperados was founded in 2010, and my primary goal back then was to make a video game and get into the industry I was dreaming about," she says. "Making a goal out of a childhood dream at this point sounds almost naive, but it truly was as simple as that."

The studio's first game, Woka Woka, was created by a team of three and designed by Ilic, despite her admitting that she didn't know much about "design thinking or any other methodology." She says her work on the mobile title -- which ended up being a big hit for the studio -- was based "almost exclusively on a hunch." Two Desperados started to transition from a small startup to a bigger studio in 2018.

"We doubled the studio size in 2019, and we have doubled the size again in 2020, and are still growing," Ilic says. "Generally speaking, tolerance is deeply carved into the Two Desperados company culture. This is something that comes out of us, the founders, completely organically, and spreads through the whole company. Having a team in which both women and men enjoy the same opportunities, obligations, and rights came naturally to us and this is simply who we are.

"The games we create are played mostly by women, and to me it is very important to have both points of view. The majority of our leadership team are women and this is definitely not the usual setting of an average gaming company. I hope that more and more gaming companies will follow our example and recognise gender parity as one of the very important topics."

Marija Ilic was also one of the eight founding members of the Serbian Games Association, which was established in March 2018 with the aim to support and develop the country's industry.

"The main idea behind creating the association was to become an unique voice to represent the common interests of the industry, as well as to support its development and growth of the entire ecosystem," Ilic says. "Today SGA has over 80 members, who have created one of the fastest-growing parts of the Serbian economy."

In 1987, as computers were becoming established as a staple of both workplaces and households, the Belgian educational institute Interface3 was formed. The goal was to train women for professions where they were underrepresented, such as IT and other technical fields, despite the many career opportunities available. In 2015, its remit was extended to game development.

"The idea was to attract young women into the world of development through their passion for video games," says director Laure Lemaire.

Aside from the growth of the industry and the sheer range of positions available, Interface3 decided to train women for roles in games in the hope of helping to bring down the many obstacles they face there.

"First of all, there are gender stereotypes -- among many other stereotypes -- typical in the IT sector," Lemaire explains. "In the case of the video games sector, you also have to deal with the 'boys club' syndrome, a bit like the pre-teens and their 'no girls' treehouse. This particular aspect often discourages girls from getting into the business, but things are changing and girls also like their treehouses, you know."

Lemaire adds that the industry needs to fully adopt a zero-tolerance attitude towards gender harassment, or indeed any other form of harassment.

"As long as there is an attitude of complacent tolerance towards sexist jokes and verbal assault in the community, women won't feel comfortable, or they'll have to dedicate a great deal of energy to fight these attitudes," she says. "Even pretending that nothing happened requires a lot of energy.

"Zero tolerance is not always easy, [but] every creative process needs a framework and digital creation is no exception. If the framework consists of being inclusive in the whole process, what negative side effects can there be?"

Interface3 has been careful in communicating the nature of the course, and the industry it leads to. Lemaire says the institute takes an approach that "must be geeky, but not too much."

"Even if nowadays more girls play video games, gender stereotypes form an obstacle which prevents them from evolving from the 'I play' stage to 'I develop a game.' At first, looking at the training program they just think, 'Yeah, that sounds interesting, let's go for it' -- but they often don't realise that they are embarking on a very technical training. The training allows them to grasp the geek inside them, and it works. You should see the projects they carry out at the end of the training."

Interface3 is already supported by the European Social Fund and Digital Belgium Skills Fund, but it's keen to have more industry involvement -- and not just in terms of finance.

"For a start, please hire our students once their training is completed," says Lemaire. "Besides that, we are open to any type of collaboration with games companies -- for example, workshops given by experts on one of our modules."