Oh, console/PC without a doubt. Mobile development, at least in my experience, is a constant struggle for relevance and a nonstop sense of urgency. Creativity is only allowed if it answers the question “how can we better trick players into giving us their money?”
Console/PC development, however, is focused on making a good product that will last. Nobody ever asks “how much money will this feature make us?” At worst, the question is “how much will this feature drive engagement?”
I’ve only worked for major companies, so my experiences don’t reflect what it’s like at indies.
To expand on this from a different perspective, I’m not a game developer, I have an analytics background. A mobile game company popped up on my Indeed feed not too long ago, looking to fill what basically amounted to a position whose sole goal was to make their games as addictive as possible. I’m not saying that those kinds of roles don’t exist in more traditional game development, but it seems par for the course with mobile gaming.
Very right. As a content/systems designer, it was my job to carefully balance a feeling of progression with a frustrating lack of progression at key points, thereby pushing players to spend.
The first few levels are easy and free, then progression starts to slow, but you’ve already gotten to level 10 easily enough, so you can take a bit of extra time to get to level 15. By level 15, you’ve invested enough time that the sudden valley of progression from 15 to 30 convinces you to make that first purchase; after all, why not spend just $5 to instantly double your level when you’ve already spent a few hours in the game? Progression speeds back up from 30 to 45, letting you feel like you’re in control of your leveling, then another valley hits and you’re now even more invested, and, since you’ve already spent $5 to get from 15 to 30, what’s another $10 to get from 45 to 80?
Rinse and repeat, steadily increasing the cost of each purchase while seemingly improving the in-game value per dollar spent.
Our biggest whales were spending over $10,000 per day on that disgusting “game.”
I had to get out. My next job, one at a prominent console/PC game studio, only paid about half of what I was making at the mobile game company, and I loved it. No more panicked 2 AM meetings because our revenue dipped 10% over the last hour. No more convincing myself that players enjoyed wasting thousands of dollars on an endless treadmill. No more 28-hour shifts.
Rant over.
Bonus: I’ve since become a dad, I’m actually proud of what I’m making now, and I’m excited to share it with my child when they’re old enough.
Oh, console/PC without a doubt. Mobile development, at least in my experience, is a constant struggle for relevance and a nonstop sense of urgency. Creativity is only allowed if it answers the question “how can we better trick players into giving us their money?”
Console/PC development, however, is focused on making a good product that will last. Nobody ever asks “how much money will this feature make us?” At worst, the question is “how much will this feature drive engagement?”
I’ve only worked for major companies, so my experiences don’t reflect what it’s like at indies.
To expand on this from a different perspective, I’m not a game developer, I have an analytics background. A mobile game company popped up on my Indeed feed not too long ago, looking to fill what basically amounted to a position whose sole goal was to make their games as addictive as possible. I’m not saying that those kinds of roles don’t exist in more traditional game development, but it seems par for the course with mobile gaming.
Very right. As a content/systems designer, it was my job to carefully balance a feeling of progression with a frustrating lack of progression at key points, thereby pushing players to spend.
The first few levels are easy and free, then progression starts to slow, but you’ve already gotten to level 10 easily enough, so you can take a bit of extra time to get to level 15. By level 15, you’ve invested enough time that the sudden valley of progression from 15 to 30 convinces you to make that first purchase; after all, why not spend just $5 to instantly double your level when you’ve already spent a few hours in the game? Progression speeds back up from 30 to 45, letting you feel like you’re in control of your leveling, then another valley hits and you’re now even more invested, and, since you’ve already spent $5 to get from 15 to 30, what’s another $10 to get from 45 to 80?
Rinse and repeat, steadily increasing the cost of each purchase while seemingly improving the in-game value per dollar spent.
Our biggest whales were spending over $10,000 per day on that disgusting “game.”
I had to get out. My next job, one at a prominent console/PC game studio, only paid about half of what I was making at the mobile game company, and I loved it. No more panicked 2 AM meetings because our revenue dipped 10% over the last hour. No more convincing myself that players enjoyed wasting thousands of dollars on an endless treadmill. No more 28-hour shifts.
Rant over.
Bonus: I’ve since become a dad, I’m actually proud of what I’m making now, and I’m excited to share it with my child when they’re old enough.
I wonder what the hell kind of people those are. Surely you can’t accrue debt that way? Are these insanely rich people?
Oh, yes. Emphasis on the insane.
The assumption around the office always was that they were Saudi royals or kids of oil barons.
Thanks that’s quite close to the hypotheses I had.