There are two things you come to realize after spending a decent amount of time as a video game developer:
- Everyone thinks your job is awesome and they’re secretly envious of you.
- That’s because they don’t think it’s a real job.
And this perception doesn’t apply to game development alone. It seems to extend across the entire entertainment industry. Any job tied to creativity, expression, or performance tends to elicit the same mix of admiration and condescension from so-called “ordinary” people.
When I worked at a radio station, people assumed my job was just spinning my favorite tracks and occasionally turning on the mic to say something silly, sexy, or both.
Work for a concert promoter? That must mean you hang out with your favorite artists and attend gigs for free, right?
In a band? Then surely you’re just having fun playing songs, drinking beer, and partying until the sun comes up while being adored by a sea of fans.
And when you’re a game developer, the conversation usually goes something like this:
“So, what are you up to these days, Fasih?”
“I make video games.”
“What? Really? Oh my god! That’s amazing, man! But how? Wow… that’s so cool.”
Focus on that: “But how?”
Because it’s not really awe they’re expressing. It’s suspicion. Fascination. They’re not asking how you became a developer. They’re asking how you’re getting away with calling it work.
To them, it seems like you’re being paid to play video games all day. Like you’ve pulled off some kind of brilliant con: tricking the world into giving you a paycheck for having fun.
And the truth is… that does sound like a pretty sweet deal. Who wouldn’t want that “job”?
But here’s the thing:
The reality of working in entertainment, whether in games, music, radio, or film, is far from carefree.
Our work is difficult, complex, and unforgiving. It’s time-sensitive, emotionally demanding, and often thankless.
I’ve seen people have breakdowns.
I’ve seen them collapse from exhaustion, stress, and sheer malnourishment.
I’ve seen hospitalizations, broken families, and shattered dreams.
So please… don’t laugh at the clown.
He’s making a fool of himself for your benefit.
He’s making you smile at his own expense.
Understand that I’m not writing this from a position of superiority.
We’re not angels. We’re not floating over you all.
I’m as selfish and flawed as the next person. I have an ego that needs feeding too.
It just so happens that what feeds my ego is your joy.
Your laughter. Your awe. Your sense of wonder.
Basically…
I create something.
That something makes you happy.
That’s the job.
And yes—it is an awesome job.
But not because it’s not real.
It’s awesome because, for us, there’s nothing more fulfilling than spreading joy.
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