This essay was written in part to give context and promote Beyond the Build, a professional summit set for Saturday, Jan. 16, 2027. More information on the event available at the link.
“What’s your story?” is often how I’ll address people I don’t know, especially when I meet them in person. I don’t expect everyone to have a prepared answer, but in my mind, it’s a more polite question than, “How are you?” – and when people I don’t know ask me that, I never assume they sincerely want to know how I am. *
What and story get to the important parts faster. I’ll more likely get a reply that answers any or a combination of the following questions:
- “Who are you?”
- “What have you done?”
- “What do you want to do?”
- “What do you know is true?”
- “What do you believe?”
Face to face, in a social context, I not only consider the answers worth knowing, I consider the questions worth asking. Being able to tell one’s own story in a few words is a skill worth having for anyone. How one answers tells me a lot about the person I’m talking to, and I’m likely to assume things could be true about them, including their confidence and overall social aptitude.
Over the Internet, of course, it’s rare that anyone’s looking me in the face. Up front, what I learn about a person is more based on what they volunteer. Such as, on any given Discord channel I frequent, aimed at Austin-area video game developers:
“Hey, I live in Cedar Park and I’ve been working on this game! Please wishlist it before it comes out next week!”
This happens fairly often, often with a platform link, often Steam. Regular names announce their projects regularly in channels like this, and I will have known about their project for more than a week in advance – and their announcement won’t be an introduction to themselves, nor will it be the first and only thing they ever say in chat.
I’m not complaining about this in terms that a few friends and family members assumed when I got to this point of telling them what I was writing about – that is to say, I don’t care if anyone thinks Austin’s 40-year history of professional and hobbyist video game production and the community thereof is being abused, so much as I care that (some) people in the Austin area are making video games in total isolation, and (sometimes) only think to announce their existence when their game is ready to go to market. Or if the action implies that anyone assumes Discord channels are full of idle people ready and willing to wishlist anyone’s project – much less test it for quality.
It couldn’t be a perfect process anywhere, but if it could be more perfect anywhere, shouldn’t it be here in Austin? Or is the existence of such history, of so many others working in the field in various capacities, yet another thing to take for granted, like marketing and QA?
Now you’re at the real point of this essay, and also the best nutshell-sized motivation for me helping with Beyond the Build.
There’s a show called Ted Lasso that you might have heard of. It’s in its fourth season as of this writing, but in the first season, there was a scene referred to as The Darts Scene, because it involves a game of darts. It also features the title character (mis)quoting Walt Whitman, “Be curious, not judgmental,” and then proceeds to show up a rival by suggesting others should be curious enough about him to find out the truth, rather than judge him based on assumptions. Such as, assuming he couldn’t play darts without asking if he could play darts.
I’m not a game developer. My associations with the field might have led me down the path toward it, but at this point in my life, I’m bound to be the one on the sidelines paying attention, because I am curious in a way I can’t help but be. I’ve lived in Austin close to 20 years, and that I get to associate with so many people who are obviously smarter, more creative and more driven than I am, is a major source of my joy.
I am curious about games made in Austin. I am especially curious about games made by teams and individuals who are driven by their own ideas and principles, and want to communicate those ideas through their creations, with a clear idea of who the message is meant for. The game doesn’t have to be for me, but it ought to be for someone beyond the creators themselves.
That’s a judgment on my part. I’m sure some might disagree, and I might be inviting an argument by saying it. The point is, I can’t help but be judgmental, even though I am curious. In my mind, curiosity invites judgment, and the first judgment to follow curiosity will lead to the decision to pay attention, or to disregard.
What I have learned over many years of human discourse, is that if I don’t think my judgment will help someone else, or if it’s not asked for, I will keep it to myself. This presents the problem related to presumably disconnected people busily creating video games without the benefit of human connections or an audience in mind, who then announce themselves in association with their project.
Such an act invites both my curiosity and my judgment, but I don’t know the whole story. Unless I ask questions, which as I’ve said on the Internet are always way more awkward than in person, I may as well assume the worst.
This is, as it happens, my excuse for not replying to most messages about games made by people I don’t know. (And I should mention that when I see such messages, they often scroll right past without anyone else replying, and rarely do I read a follow-up.)
What I suspect is that far too many game developers, especially those working alone in isolation, aren’t curious enough about the right things. That starts with presenting themselves as people interesting enough to be worth talking to, and valuing the curiosity of others enough to bravely associate themselves with whatever they want to create.
I’m not so naive as to think such a personal association by a creator is always necessary for any creation to be successful – and by successful I don’t just mean “earning money,” but however the creators want to measure success, including just feeling good about having released a game in a playable state.
I will say, however, that when 50 games a day get uploaded to Steam, I’m going to need more than just a download link if anyone expects me to care enough. (Edit: After this essay was published in the October newsletter, my friend Tim Garris counted the number of games released thus far in 2026, and corrected that number to 75 games released on Steam every day.)
See why I tend to keep my judgments to myself? Though, in this case, it doesn’t seem to be about my curiosity or my judgment. What bothers me is not knowing how I should react without knowing enough in context of what a stranger is asking me to care about. It’s far easier to disregard most things, even though it means I miss out on some things that could be worth my attention.
Is this something that every video game creator needs to worry about for the sake of an audience? In my judgment, no, but only in the sense that not every creation is made with an audience in mind, or with a plan to treat it like an entertainment product with an enterprise behind it and a promotional plan. I’m convinced that of those 50 games a day, at least 45 of them are made by creators who haven’t bothered setting goals or making plans for any of that.
Maybe it doesn’t matter in a historical sense where a video game is made or if it’s made with any regard for an audience. There certainly seem to be those who believe that any effort to determine whether any entertainment product will be successful before the fact is no better than a wild guess, and entropy is too powerful a force for humans to work against.
Maybe a lot of developers feel strapped for resources and time, constrained by other responsibilities, or hamstrung by unwillingness to delegate or ask for help, even freely offered. I could make excuses all day, and in fact I wasn’t surprised by the report last year about how 40 percent of all games released on Steam didn’t make back the $100 it cost for their registry. Hard to do that when so many are offered for free, unmonetized, or inadequately promoted.
But if we’re talking about Austin, where so many experienced developers live and congregate, it’s frustrating to think that more developers can’t be helped from falling through what seem like obvious cracks. Shouldn’t it matter that they’re here, instead of most places in the world where the next closest dev is hundreds or thousands of miles away?
Maybe I’m too concerned with other people’s business. If I am, I’ll have to figure out just how curious or judgmental I’m supposed to be. I’ll have to trust the ones who care more about me, that if they figure that out, they’ll let me know. My hope is that more creators get a better idea about what they should do, at shows like Beyond the Build, for the sake of their success.
At the very least, I hope they get to look each other in the eyes.
* If anyone asks me, “How are you?” and I pause before I answer, it’s usually because I’m suppressing the urge to make something up or worse, be more honest than most are ready to take in a casual setting. If small talk makes conversation more comfortable, ask me about the weather. I don’t play darts.