Gaming in Adelaide is becoming a spectator sport

In all likelihood you are reading this because a friend sent you a link. If you are, thank you for your time and attention. I hope to make it worth your while.

And above all, this is my opinion. The people I’m trying to help haven’t asked for this. These are my words, not theirs.

I’ve lived in Adelaide now for just under 10 years, and have had the good fortune of knowing (and occasionally working with) a group of local computer game developers, up until November 2009.

At that time, there were 45 on the team. 45 highly skilled and talented professionals, shipping a game worldwide, from here in your own backyard.

This team worked together on a number of projects for over ten years, and has delivered millions of dollars in successful games that shipped all over the world. They are artists, animators, designers and programmers with a proven record for delivering the goods.

Last year, redundancies hit (I was the first to go) and keep hitting. In two weeks, their studio will likely close, and Adelaide will lose this resource forever.

I’m not here to debate market conditions, the quality of the games, or all the other errata you can read on Tsumea and Kotaku.

All you have to do is look at the job postings section on Tsumea to see how hard it is to find this kind of work in Adelaide compared to interstate/overseas. As you can see, other than very good smaller shops, a bulk of postings are from Ratbag.

The joke is, Ratbag closed years ago, after their new owners took the project (that members of this team created) overseas.

From then, this team has had to take what it could get, but that is in no way a measure of their talent and drive.

And this is their home. They have families and mortgages, and they want to stay here.

This team loves Adelaide, and they love games. I have sat with them, night after very long night, honored and shamed by their commitment to deliver the best game possible, no matter how impossible the budget and deadline.

I could sit here for hours and tell you about 4AM calls, dragging exhausted developers out of bed to fix a critical bug. Of stand-up shouting matches over what could be done, and should be done, with limited time and resources. Of moments of incredible inspiration and ingenuity that were quickly dashed to ruin by the politics of interstate management and overseas funding.

Yet (my wife shudders when I say this), I would do it all again in a second.

From my first month in this country, they challenged me to be a far better manager than I ever had to be. And at times, than I could be.

I know I let them down. The pressure in this industry is relentless, more so when you know the next decision may be the last one you get to make. I did the best I could, but it wasn’t always enough.

This team has had to struggle to survive for so long, to them the impending closure seems inevitable.

That is the word I keep hearing over and over. Inevitable.

If anything were inevitable, we as a nation would not exist as we do today.

Nothing is inevitable to the bright young men and women I have met in the past nine years. Dozens of aspiring gamers, thrilled to hear that a studio is in operation here in Adelaide, begging to get in the door.

They aren’t giving up. Neither can I.

If you are attending a TAFE course, or in Uni, and hoping to gain a foothold in an industry without moving interstate, you are about to lose a vital piece of your career path. There are successful local graduates in this team right now, and if the team were here 3-4 years from now, it could have been you.

Some may argue that giving 5% of local graduates a job isn’t enough. I would argue back that if it inspires the other 95%, it is imperative we keep a toehold in this industry here in Adelaide.

But that is unlikely, as there has been no measurable response (that I know of) from your local government or press when the closure was announced, prematurely, weeks ago.

There are no rebates for games, like for the film industry. We are not culturally relevant, they say, we are risky, immature and destructive to youth, they claim. Locally, I’ve heard people say: “Victoria can afford to support games. We can’t.”

To them, to those who don’t play games and don’t care about those who do, this closure is inevitable.

Don’t let them be right. This city was a beacon of art, innovation, and change once. Swimming upstream, taking chances and rattling cages. Nothing was inevitable.

Or so I’m told. I’m not seeing it now, as the government chases polls and table scraps, trying to figure out who will run the show in October.

There are no white knights out there. Not where I can see them from my (admittedly) limited patch of dirt up in the hills. Feel free to comment here if there are.

I’m asking, imploring, and begging everyone in Adelaide who is investing their money in games at EB, their educational future in animation, programming and design courses, to get organized and scream long and loud to their local MP.

Use your networks to give praise and support to this team, to publicize their plight before it’s too late. Don’t rely on the press to do it, they don’t get it. You do.

It’s your future. Be heard.

(And let me be very clear here, this is my foot kicking the hornet’s nest. If you want to argue this, take it up with me.)

-Dan Thorsland

UPDATE: Thanks to Tsumea for picking this up, and huge props to Tony and John for weighing in with very sound opinion. I’m on the phone to 891 now, so whatever happens, the crew won’t part company without a damn good party.

http://www.tsumea.com/australasia/australia/news/020910/a-plea-to-save-krome-studios-adelaide

-Dan