Jon-Paul Dumont

California needs to act to protect the incredible game development talent present in the state. We should not accept this as a losing battle.

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There is very little that screams "bad writing" (or possibly "bad management notes") louder than a character doing something dumb and completely out of character because if they don't, the plot doesn't happen. Any plot that falls apart without getting goosed by a character doing something that is both stupid and something that character demonstrably would never do is a bad and weak plot. The brilliant and meticulous scientist who suddenly goes "enh" and leaves the experiment untended and bubbling overnight? The serious and hyper-competent professional soldier who leaves a gate open because "nothing's going to happen?" These are all cases where the writer has gotten themself into a hole (or been pushed into one) and the only ladder out is made out of broken character motivations. It's obvious, and it's annoying, and it's a real good way to break immersion for anyone who's been paying attention. However, I didn't just say "stupid". I said "stupid /and/ out of character", and there's a massive difference. There are actually plenty of good reasons for even smart characters to do stupid things, and they can work wonders if they're applied and presented properly. Let's start with the obvious: People don't always make good decisions under pressure. This is as true for made up people as it is for real human beings. If someone is stressed, if someone is rushed, if someone is in danger, or if someone is operating from incomplete information? You can damn well bet they're not going to always make the same call they would from a bunker a mile away with hours to discuss and research their next move. Things happen in the heat of the moment. Characters panic and react instinctively for the sake of self-preservation. This can lead to bad results, even from the best of intentions. Why? Because very, very few people are processing at their best when there's a giant ravening monster bearing down on them at forty miles an hour. There's also the possibility that the character is doing the dumb thing for reasons that are in character. The audience may know something's a bad idea, but the character might have less information than they do. They might be clinging to an idea that's not true, or they might the dumb idea is actually the right one. They might be forced into the dumb thing - pull the trigger or your loved ones get it. They might be self destructive. The list goes on and on, and any of these can save a story from "because the plot said so" /if they are set up ahead of time/. If we've been shown multiple times that a character is looking to martyr themself, then it makes sense when they do so unnecessarily. If we've been shown that a character is weak, then it's believable when that weak character takes the easy way out, even if the real cost is higher. So yes, the stupid move can be the right move for the story, but only if it flows from what the story has already told the audience. By itself, it's odd and improper. In context, it can do wonders.

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We Need To Be Careful With Layoff Numbers Right Now A widely shared GDC survey stat today, echoed by major press as a larger scale finding, suggested that one third of those surveyed, working in games in the United States, were laid off over the past two years. You all know I, of all people on planet earth, would never downplay the human cost behind games layoffs. Every job lost is a person, a family, and a life disrupted. But there is a very large gap between that figure and what I am seeing in the most comprehensive tracked datasets available, and I think that deserves a closer look. Based on the layoff tracking I maintain by region, North America saw 11,723 games layoffs two years ago and 5,638 last year. That is 17,361 total layoffs across two years. Now we have to pair that with workforce size. The most rigorous attempt I have seen to measure the games workforce comes from Game Industry Coffee Chat, which estimates a median North America games workforce of about 230,000 people: https://lnkd.in/eb_kK9BV Even if we assume every one of those 17,361 layoffs impacted a completely different person, which is unlikely since some individuals were laid off more than once, that equals roughly 8 percent of the workforce over two years. That is still deeply serious. But it is very different from one third. For one third of the workforce to have been laid off in the United States over the past two years, we would be talking about roughly 66,000 people, not 17,361. That is a difference of nearly 49,000 roles. And even if we narrow from North America to the United States only, where GICC estimates about 200,000 games workers, the percentage still lands in the same range, about 8 percent, nowhere near a third. So how do numbers get that far apart? Survey data around layoffs can skew high for many reasons. People who were directly impacted are far more likely to respond. Surveys often circulate most heavily in communities already affected. Definitions of “games industry” vary widely between respondents. Some surveys are global but get interpreted as U.S. only. Others may include contract endings, short term roles, or adjacent tech roles differently. Without tight sampling controls, surveys can end up reflecting who feels the pain most strongly rather than the full workforce picture. None of this makes the last two years any less painful. They have been among the hardest periods our industry has faced. But if we want to advocate effectively for workers, studios, and long term stability, our numbers have to be as rigorous as our empathy. Clear data helps us understand the true scale of the challenge and push for solutions that actually match reality. This is why I have always relied on direct measurement of all figures rather than anything polling or survey related, although those can also be used to calibrate if and when they align with hard data.

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