I was over on Facebook today talking with the accurately named Gamers Against Bobby Kotick and Activision, and we hit on part of a discussion that I think a lot of people are having in the wake of the Infinity Ward situation: How can you preserve the developer’s need for creative freedom from the publisher’s desire to make money?
I think too many people assuming that this is an either/or situation, that those goals cannot co-exist. But a Tasty Dan Amrich Food Analogy™ will prove that they can.
At Activision, the publisher/development relationship is pretty simple. Activision foots the bill; the developers follow their muse. There are a handful of studios under the Activision umbrella, decentralized and doing their own thing their way, and they each have creative freedom.
Yes. They have creative freedom. As proof to this claim, I submit Exhibit A, which is all their games. Please note how a Treyarch game is not the same as a Vicarious Visions game, and how Neversoft does things differently than High Moon Studios. Each studio is autonomous, yet still reporting back to and working with the mothership.
When a game is in development, Activision’s producers work with the developers, saying “here’s what we’d like” or “can you change this,” and discussing the decisions along the way. The publishers make helpful suggestions and give the devs what they need to get the job done. But the game vision, the way the game experience unfolds, all the heavy lifting and asset creation and gameplay and all the sensory stuff that you personally connect with when you play game — that comes from and is executed by the developers.
You know, just like a restaurant.
Thanks to John P. for the image of Houston's Steakhouse. (Click it.)
I see the publisher/developer relationship very much like going to a steakhouse. You show up and you’re handed a menu; before you came in, the chef wrote that up to say “These are the dishes I am proud, qualified, and eager to make you today.” Maybe the chef has a signature dish upon which he built his reputation. And you say “Great, these all look very tempting — but I have questions. How big are the portions? Are those ingredients in season? And can I have it with beets instead of parsnips?” And the chef can answer those questions, but when the heat is on in the kitchen, he is the one making the meal. You are merely asking that he respect your deadly parsnip allergy. You are, after all, footing the bill for the meal.
Now, does that substitution of beets for parsnips constitute a lack of creative freedom for the developer? If you ask for a dish most of the way he wants to prepare and but a little bit your way, I don’t think his creativity as a chef is being infringed upon; you’re the customer, and it’s reasonable to ask for your meal without some elements and with some other elements. And so the chef says, okay, I can see what you’re asking for, and he does his best work…and he gets paid for it. He gets to make your food his way — creative fulfillment — and he gets paid for doing what he is obviously very passionate about and good at doing.
Beets. Thanks to Katrin A. for the photo. (Click it.)
This kind of flexibility, where the person footing the bill has input into the product but the person making the product has the majority influence on how it turns out, happens every day in restaurants around the world. The game world is no exception to these kinds of lopsided collaborative arrangements; it’s just at higher stakes than, um, steaks.
I am not suggesting that any portion of this delicious analogy applies to any specific situation. I do not know the particular details of what is stored inside Infinity Ward’s refrigerator and I do not know the nature or intensity of Activision’s requests for different side dishes or “recipe improvements.” Maybe on some games, it’s not just beets and parsnips, but from my experience, I think the cases where someone walks into a steakhouse and asks for so many alterations that it ceases to be a steak at all are exceedingly…rare.
So that’s my point, and my understanding of game development: The creative decisions lie with the developer, even if the publisher has some say about them.
