Dollar Dollar Bills
The words ‘Reality’ and ‘TV’ when used in conjunction with one another, produces the very drugs that poisons the mind and renders the viewer less intelligent than before. Naturally, the pervading train of thought of television producers, directors, and the like, aware that video games are stealing mindshare in droves, have to adapt if they wish to stay relevant. Naturally, television as of late, bereft of soul, conscience, and virtue, seeks other victims to sink their fangs into, like an insatiable vampire, and gamers are, naturally, a worthy and easy target, as video games have matched, and in some ways surpassed, the movie and television industry.
This was met with some initial problems. They could not do much with people playing games, as Twitch.tv already had that market cornered. They could not attempt to do journalism on games, as there are already many channels and avenues on the internet a savvy gamer could turn to in order to acquire news, opinion, and the like.
Finally, they discovered upon a solution. The development process. Show the public how their favorite games were made. It would certainly turn a few heads to get into the creative thinking that creates the entertainment that enthralls millions of gamers on a daily a daily basis. Yet, the chances of getting into those divisions at Nintendo, Microsoft, Sony, and the major publishers was never going to happen, as they tend to be rather clandestine and rightfully so.
Yet, the cynical tv producer found a much more satisfying target. The Independent scene. Most likely ignorant of their individual stories, the men in suits at the unnamed television outlet probably only saw them as an easily usable and replaceable resource, as the ones in charge of the project probably had a distant relative that played games that played into the various stereotypes that these men believed they were.
And so, GAME_JAM, with the money of Pepsi Co. to sponsor the event, was born. It would show how, from the indie perspective, how the games that can, in some cases, take on and surpass the AAA budgets of major publishers with naught but grit, dreams, and determination to create a quality product.
In truth, that is one would cynically think this came to be, but it was not. It was, in reality, the brain child of Josh Mattingly and David DeCarmine. The former an Indie Statik writer and the latter the founder of gamer drink Game Jolt.
It was a wonderful idea. Show the youtube audience what it was like for indie developers to work and do something they loved, both the good and the bad. Give those with many ideas and hopes and dreams a taste of what it looks like and, perhaps, some guidance for those who may be unaware of the pitfalls and the difficulties they would inevitably face. Yet, overall, it was supposed to be a look into the work and passion of independent game developers.
It was supposed to be.
However, when the idea had been picked up by two producers of the Polaris network; Aaron Umetani and Jason Serrato, word of it eventually got the attention of major sponsors and placed in the hands of the Maker studios. Most notable of the sponsors, the aforementioned Pepsi Co. Before they could stop it, the GAME_JAM had become less of a documentary look into the workings of indie game development and became more akin to a game show, with four teams, comprised of actual developers and youtube personalities. Eventually, prizes and cash money were involved, the development process was set aside, and then the most important part of any game show involving personalities was needed.
Drama.
The sting is in the drama.
It was not long before the four teams were given scripts on how to behave for the camera, when they were under the initial impression that that the GAME_JAM was meant more as an elaboration of game development. When more and more details of what happened emerged, the indie developers attempted to stick it out, aware that this was the way of things and how the business went.
It was also a display at how little the legal departments of the sponsors understood game development at all, as the contracts were notoriously stringent, even for contracts for something as small as the game jam was supposed to be initially. It also gave them provisions to make things up about the developers for the sake of drama, which, understandably, did not go over well with the people involved.
Thankfully, the developers were able to obtain a bit more leeway in their contracts and it seemed that the game jam could continue as hoped.
Yet, like an M. Knight Shamaylyan film, it could only go downhill from there. At high speed. With a spiked boulder immediately behind.
What the developers found was a color coded set, complete with ubiquitous Mountain Dew bottles and cans everywhere for the mandatory consumption of the developers and internet celebrities of not small repute in attendance.
It almost seemed like a complete opposite of what indie development was supposed to be. It is supposed to be small, intimate, thoughtful, and personal between the people that work there. That way, those involved understand each other, for better or worse, and which enables them to proceed at a, hopefully, smoother pace during development. It creates camaraderie. This, the developers would go on to say, did not at all.
Producers, consultants, and more people, who had no idea what indie game development was about, attempted to force a square peg into a round hole. The developers were ordered to behave in certain ways when it game to the products they sponsored, the deafening tone of the set drowned out any hope of communication, and even if the developers wanted to drink water, since coffee was banned, they had to drink out of an empty Mountain Dew bottle filled with water instead.
And then, like a spark in a trail of blast powder, leading to an overflowing keg of TNT, Matti Lesham appeared.
While he alone was not the reason the GAME_JAM came to a screeching halt, but he was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. The legal departments of Maker, the developers could handle, and before Lesham came along, they were getting into the swing of things, albeit begrudgingly.
But apparently, this was not good enough for the middle man Pepsi had hired. He then forced demands of the developers that seem odd and out of place. Nerves were frayed, tensions ran high, and when JonTron and Zoe Quinn (internet personality and developer of Depression Quest respectively) attempted to take their differences out of sight of the rest of the teams so they could iron it out, Lesham made the cameras film it.
The inferno reached a peak when Lesham attempted to get a rise out of Zoe Quinn by asking blatantly sexist questions about her and other women’s involvement in game development. It is believed that Lesham was aware of the pointless harassment and death threats she received for making Depression Quest in the first place, but ignored the fact that the human mind can only take so much. Needless to say, she, and her male contemporaries, were not amused.
It was then they solidified against Lesham, despite his half-hearted and weasel like attempts to deflect blame off of himself, and all the developers involved revolted, left the set, and as a result, the GAME_JAM died a painful death. Attempts to get the show back on track was impossible. Matti was fired, but the damage was already done.
In a strange bit of irony, Matti Lesham whose background is in TV, which has the inevitable connection to reality TV, attempted to create division and contention between the developers for the sake of cheap drama, only seemed to galvanize the developers against him.
It also leads to the conclusion that perhaps indie development is better left as it is; private, personal, and passionate. That is how games like Braid, Depression Quest, Don’t Starve, Papers Please, and the Stanley Parable are made, no?
For further reading; see Adriel Wallick’s, Robin Arnott’s, and Zoe Quinn’s observations of the event. Bear in mind, Zoe Quinn is still under contract and so, there is only so much she can say.
