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电子游戏产业中的秘密开发者

发布时间:2015-10-19 10:47:44 Tags:,,,,

作者:Matt Leone

2015年7月,开发商Comcept为游戏《Red Ash》组织了一次Kickstarter活动。但结果似乎并不如意。

尽管筹集到50万美元的资金,但是这一活动还是未能实现最初的目标并且招来许多评论家的批评,即他们认为Comcept并未深刻认识之前的活动便又组织这次的活动,并且他们宣称进行主机移植也未明确面向哪个主机平台,且他们在获得外部投资后仍继续进行该活动。

而对于与Comcept合作开发游戏的制作工作室Hyde,这一活动更是带来一个新问题。

Hyde诞生于2002年,并参与了超过200款游戏的制作,同时也包括日本一些大型游戏,如《最终幻想》,《Persona》和《Yakuza》。该团队通常都非常低调,总是默默地做着自己的工作而很少会在公共场合提及这些工作。在与Polygon进行交谈的时候,Hyde的总裁Kenichi Yanagihara便表示他不能谈论大概70%的公司业务。而在Hyde面向公众筹集资金前这一切都没有什么不妥。

Comcept的助理制作人Josh Weatherford引用了Tumblr上一篇警告粉丝因为Hyde没有创造行动游戏的经验而让他们小心的文章。Weatherford说道,因为Hyde所采取的做法,该团队因为未能给予各种抱怨更多回应而遭受到沉重打击。

他说道:“我认为这主要是因为缺少信息。因为你不能公布一些事实,所以人们只能猜测一些最糟糕的情况。”

Hyde是众多隐藏在暗处工作的游戏工作室之一。人们将这种工作方式称为“白色标签开发”,“幽灵开发”或“秘密团队”。而这种方式是随着电子游戏诞生以来便一直存在。

随着Kickstarter和社交媒体比以前更加重视开发者的声誉,Polygon也意识到他们的Kickstarter结果不如意的原因以及因此引起的问题。Yanagilhara表示自己很喜欢秘密地工作,他也总是能从一些消极面中汲取一些积极的元素。而对于别人来说可能会大受打击。

有组织的沉默

声誉一致是游戏产业中一个敏感的话题。它会影响你的职业生涯。这也是人们在聚会中经常抱怨的事。2015年,一款高预算游戏宣称需要数百名雇员与多家外部工作室的参与。如此大的规模(即使是一些更小的项目)总是会引出各种问题,就如内部的各种矛盾,成员的相继离开,或者因为各自的待遇而争吵。

即使整支团队事先约好不在公众面前提及作品,许多开发者也表示这也会引出其它问题

外包公司Streamline Studios的首席执行官Alexander Fernandez说道:“很多开发工作室,甚至是发行商本身都不希望别人认为自己是依赖于外部合作者。他们也不希望公开自己所做的事。所以在此他们的目标便是确保人们认为这些作品是在同一地方完成的。”

Fernandez表示在最近几年他从未签订任何白色标签协议,因为现在人们都是依赖于作品去协商之后的工作,所以已经很难去限制开发者的言行。

他说道:“在这一行,‘你的标准是由上一个项目所决定的’是基本。所以如果你不能对外谈论自己的项目,你便很难在此生存下去。”

关于开发者可以透露多少信息是不存在明确的标准,甚至是在那些没有贴上白色标签的项目中。来自多个大型外包工作室的代表都表示,在合同中添加自我推销条款去限制人们对外所说的内容是非常常见的做法,并且这种限制也经常出现在游戏发行中。但在解除限制后,客户总是拥有自由选择的机会。

例如Streamline便是多个致力于Kinect《星球大战》的外包工作的团队之一,但是Fernandez却表示只有在微软发行这款游戏8个月后他们才能在公众面前提及这件事。

他说道:“我们能够理解任何人在一开始都不会去谈论这件事。我也不会说我们不被允许讲这件事,因为我们都清楚自己不应该到处说。”

但情况也有可能相反。Snowed In Studios是一家独立团队,他们曾致力于《骇客入侵:人类革命》的导演剪辑版,其总监Jean-Sylvain Sormany便表示一开始他就觉得这是一份白色标签工作。然后有一天他听到游戏发行商Square Enix计划将他们团队的名字加入相关人员名单中。从那时起他才意识到在公共场合讨论工作也是没关系的。

关于公开发言人们也持有不同看法—-不管是对朋友还是家人,在商务会议,LinkedIn上提及,或者将截图和logo放在自己的网站上。有时候合同会明确要求保持沉默;但通常这都是一种不言而喻的默契。

根据国际游戏开发者协议(IGDA)的相关职员规定,任何致力于游戏作品任何部分(超过5%的内容或30天以上的时间)的人都应该被列在工作人员名单中,并且在游戏发行后他们便能够自由谈论工作。但这只是一种建议。因为IGDA也没有权利去强制要求什么。

当一份协议包含言论禁止要求时,有些公司可能会拒绝参与。

按照其它产业的规则进行

在过去3个月里,Polygon仔细研究了整个产业的白色标签工作,我们发现最常见的一种情况是开发者因为与游戏产业外部公司(游戏邦注:这些公司有着自己关于参与职员的政策规定)合作而需要保持沉默。

你们还记得总部位于渥太华的Fuel Industries在2011年开发了平台游戏《Sideway:New York》吗。根据该公司的产品总监Nick Tremmaglia(他认为自己是带有现实感的创意总监),Fuel中大概有80%的游戏都是基于白色标签的项目。它们大多是来自游戏产业外部的主流品牌,这些游戏雇佣了Fuel去创造能够推广自己产品的游戏,并希望能够以此吸引大众的注意。

他说道:“通常情况我们都会尽可能简化工作。例如现在与我们合作的一家桌面游戏公司,他们拥有一批开发者负责自己创造一部分作品。我认为这只是为了让事情在面向终端用户时足够简单。我不认为这对于作为开发者的我们来说有什么不利。他们并不会抢走所有荣誉。他们只是尝试着为那些可能看到游戏内部品牌的人简化事宜而已。”

他继续说道:“我认为这也提供给我们一定的保护。当产品最终发行但却未获得成功时,你也不会因此遭受负面影响。与任何工作室一样,我也发行了一些不如预期那样成功的游戏,而对于Fuel来说幸运的是当你在搜索该工作室时你们不会看到这些游戏。”

尽管Fuel将自己定义为“数字代理和娱乐工作室”,并且他们经常参与介于游戏和市场营销之间的工作,该公司也会参与艺电和Zynga等传统游戏公司的白色标签项目。

Fuel并不是唯一为传统游戏产业内外公司工作的工作室。另外两家致力于主机游戏且相对较知名的美国开发工作室也告诉我们他们会不时接些小型白色标签项目去填补不同项目间的空闲。而两家工作室也都希望低调处理这些工作,因为他们希望玩家和潜在客户始终认为自己是致力于高端游戏的制作。

向投资者隐藏自己的工作

有时候一些工作室的目标不只是向玩家保密,同时也会向投资者保密。许多游戏开发合同会有团队不能在没有获得投资者的允许的前提下将工作转包给其它团队的要求。像产业代理Ed Dille等团队便会忽视这样的要求,还有一些小型项目则不会有这样的要求。

来自俄勒冈市的SuerGenius便是一支“艺术工作室兼支持团队”,根据该工作室总监Paul Culp,这意味着他们既是一支外包团队同时也会与客户进行紧密合作。大多数时候他们会提供给《行尸走肉》,《破碎时光》和《小龙斯派罗》系列游戏帮助。但Culp也表示,SuperGenius一年会接下一两个白色标签工作,也就是他所谓的“秘密团队”工作。

Culp表示这些工作也不会像他们所期待的那样经常出现,它们通常是来自希望获得更多技术援助的全新游戏开发者或公司的手机游戏。

Walking_Dead(from polygon)

Walking_Dead(from polygon)

他还表示,这些工作往往是来自那些拥有外部投资者并且不希望投资者知道自己需要帮助的开发商—-“他们希望能让投资者感到满足并让投资者觉得他们的产品高于预期。”

他还补充道:“说实话我认为这是自尊心的驱使。人们会觉得如果他们请求专业人士的帮助去发行游戏,别人就会觉得自己很弱。”

SuperGenius便是Polygon发现的唯一一家比起其它工作更看重白色标签工作的公司。Culp表示对于秘密团队协议他会多收25%的额外费用。

他说道:“像我们这样依赖于作品去获取更多业务的工作室来说。如果我们不能往作品集中添加更多内容,我们便会遭遇打击。所以如果对方不希望我们去谈论这份工作,我们便会在合同中要求对方多支付一笔额外费用。”

自我审查

在西方,白色标签项目是许多公司并不想接的工作,但他们也会因为较高的费用或者能够因此接触到一些特定客户而接受它们。对于Hyde总裁Yanagihara来说,这也是他们所喜欢的工作。比起作为一个公众人物,他更喜欢扮演支持者的角色,因为这让他能够更加专注于手上的工作。

总部位于东京的Hyde共有50个雇员并在一年内参与了8至10款游戏的制作,包揽了编程,图像制作和游戏设计等工作。他们与Konami,Bandai Namco和Square Enix等大型发行商都有合作。并且与大多数相同经历的西方工作室不同的是,Hyde并未签订任何限制自己言论的协议;他们只是向客户做出了口头承诺。

Yanagihara表示,即使许多日本大型发行商最近放慢了发展速度或减少了内部资源,他们仍然需要像Hyde这样的工作室去填补种种空缺。他同样也表示基于日本长期运行的一些游戏,那些发行商更希望能够留住那些能够创造出吸引公众眼球的内容的工作室。

对于Yanagihara来说,这其实就是关于什么才是对产品来说最好的。他表示在美国玩家总是会按照开发团队去购买游戏,而在日本玩家则更倾向于根据发行商选择游戏。

他说道:“就拿《使命召唤》来说,在美国很多人不会因为‘因为这是动视的作品所以我要买这款游戏。’他们反而会说‘因为这是来自Infinity Ward的游戏,所以我要买它。’而在日本,人们更常有的反应是‘因为这是Square Enix/Atlus/任天堂的游戏,所以我要买它。’”

“如果你换种角度说,‘这其实是由这个人所制作的,’那么玩家可能会因为对方是自己不认识或并不期待的开发者而削弱对于游戏的印象。而如果你在此基础上公布更多不必要的信息,游戏甚至很难卖得出去或推销出去。”

Yanagihara还从这种方法中看到了许多其它好处。

从实践层面看,它让Hyde能够同时致力于两个具有竞争性的产品。Yanagihara提供了一个多年前的例子,即当Hyde致力于世嘉的一款游戏的同时还致力于另一款他当时不能公开名字的足球游戏。而这些游戏的发行商都不担心向公众公开Hyde的名字会让他们感到困惑。

他说道:“这就像是一种市场营销策略。我们并不想别人有,‘嘿,这些人做的都是足球游戏,为什么这款游戏比其它游戏更优秀?’的想法。”

待在暗处也让Hyde能够致力于一些大型项目,Yanagihara也表示这是他们在其它情况中做不到的。他表示这一方法让他在与朋友聊游戏的时候能够获得诚实的反馈,因为朋友都不知道他们公司正致力于这些游戏中。

Yanagihara认为基于Hyde的方法,有时候即使得到客户的允许,他也会在对外公开前感到犹豫。Hyde参与了最近的《最终幻想》的编程工作,但因为Yanagihara不想给予玩家太多剧透,所以他不愿说出他们正致力于哪一款游戏的哪一部分内容。

他说道:“我不能说出具体的内容,因为如果这样做的话别人就会说,‘等等,难道不是Square Enix来做吗?虽然没有人限制我去说这些,但是我并不想因此对别人造成不好的影响。”

Yanagihara表示这一方法的根源在于日本文化,因为在这里许多人都不爱出风头,并且许多典型的企业都是基于这种方法。他还列举了汽车公司,即表示有些在美国制作的汽车还提供了制作汽车的具体工厂的信息,而在日本便不会出现这种情况。而在Hyde的例子中最大的不同是他们的作品总是包含汽车生产线所不具有的创造性。

在未来,Yanagihara希望Hyde能够继续做白色标签工作,因为他认为它们团队始终以为大型项目作出贡献为傲。同时他也希望做更多能够露面的工作,从而给予更年轻的团队成员更多曝光机会。现在,Hyde正致力于与Atlus合作制作一款未公开的角色扮演游戏,同时他们也与Comcept一起制作《Red Ash》。

文化差异

当然了并不是只有Hyde在这么做。在日本还有许多开发商致力于不能公开姓名的大型主机游戏项目中。

Matt Smith是来自东京一家工作室Friend & Foe并且出生于西方国家的程序员。在这份工作之前,他曾效劳于PopCap Japan的发行团队,并与当地的工作室一起将PopCap的游戏移植到任天堂DS上。而在《植物大战僵尸》的DS版本上,与他们合作的工作室甚至不愿意自己的名字出现在相关职员的列表中。

Smith说道:“一开始我们以为他们会希望别人知道自己参与了游戏制作,但是当我们开始与他们讨论该将他们的名字放在参与人员名单的哪个位置时,他们却表示,‘不,你不要公开我们的名字。’为此我们需要进行相关讨论,我也需要与我们在日本的老板商量,因为大多数公司都希望能够让公众了解到自己的存在。而因为该公司拥有像任天堂等大客户,而这些巨头们在与该公司合作时都希望别人是带着是任天堂或Capcom制作了这款游戏的想法。”

Smith表示他并未看到躲避公众视线有何优点。不过他也知道与当地公司合作的优势,因为如果日本用户知道这是一款由当地工作室所开发的游戏,那么PopCap便能从中受益。(游戏邦注:尽管最终游戏并未面向日本市场发行。)

“我们最终做出了妥协。我们的回答是,‘好吧,那让我们将你们团队的名字写到参与人员名单中,不会提及你们公司的名字。’他们也同意了这一看法,并回答,‘好吧,希望能将我们的名字放在最底部。’”

Smith的例子是关于一个较小的项目,除此之外还有许多秘密进行的大型项目。总部位于京都的开发商Tose便是世界上最大的白色标签游戏工作制作商,他们会参与各种规模的游戏制作。

Tose在日本大概有600名雇员,而在中国和菲律宾还有400多名雇员,该公司每年会参与30至50款游戏的制作,之外他们还会致力于像联网冰箱等产品。除非海外客户的要求,他们通常都不会出现在相关人员名单中。Tose的官网是这么描述他们公司的,“沉默的幕后力量。”

Koji Morosawa是Tose海外市场营销部的负责人,他的工作包括向潜在国际客户宣传他们公司,而他也表示因为该公司所使用的方法,这是一项极具挑战性的工作。

Morosawa说道:“将自己呈现在公众面前对我们来说是非常困难的。因为人们总是会问,‘所以你们做了什么?你们过去取得了怎样的成就?’他们总是想看到作品,名单,演示。但我们所签订的合约却不允许我们这么做。”

“所以我只能尝试着邀请他们去日本,我们的总部寻找答案。在那里我们拥有一个陈列了我们所参与的大多数游戏的地下室。我不知道我能说多少。我们会直接邀请人们前往我们在京都总部中的游戏地下室。我们会让他们看看那里的一切。但是他们不能拍照,而我们也不能进行更多讨论。他们将从中了解到我们都做了什么。从而帮助他们了解我们工作室的历史与发展。”

Morosawa也看到了Yanagihara在Hyde所看到的秘密工作的一些优势,并且是基于一个更大的规模。他表示因为Tose的规模与声誉,他们可以随时与多家相互竞争的公司合作,从而进一步了解产业的发展并推动他们的内部游戏设计和业务计划。

尽管他同意日本文化对于秘密工作具有某种影响,但是他也指出Tose将总部设于京都是一个更重要的因素。

他说道:“这是因为京都文化的影响。在京都,不仅游戏公司,几乎所有公司都是基于支持方式而运行。”

中间商

在某些情况下,开发者只是因为这是自己能做的唯一的事采取接受白色标签工作。

来自伊朗的一位开发者便表示他们从未公开自己或公司的名字是为了不阻碍团队成员之后找工作。他表示他们团队之所以会接这种工作是因为别无选择。

因为伊朗的市场较小,他们团队不能将游戏销售到国际市场,而开发初创游戏又具有风险。所以他们团队只能选择白色标签工作,先从中赚点钱,然后再使用这些钱去支持独创游戏的制作。

他表示他们团队总是会与那些代表开发工作室的中间商合作,当协议签订后他们将承包部分工作,并且不会告诉客户游戏是外包制作的。

他说道:“这并不是关于我们是否同意这一做法,我们更看重能否赚到钱。显然我并不认同这种做法,因为这也是我的作品,并且当该作品获得赞许与奖励时别人甚至不知道我们工作室也参与了其中的制作。但是我们所做出的所有努力都是出于财政原因。”

Phone(from polygon)

Phone(from polygon)

他表示他们工作室中有2/3的游戏是基于白色标签,并且除了能够较早给予他们报酬并且拥有较低风险外他也想不出这一方法还有什么其它优点了。

“作为一家工作室,我们始终尝试着减少定做项目的数量,并更多地专注于我们自己的项目。但现在因为我们还需要更多资金,所以只能继续接受这类型项目。”

在布宜诺斯艾利斯,一家名为ZenStation Studio的公司便扮演着中间商的角色,负责为拉美开发商与西方公司拉线。

该公司的联合创始人兼业务总监Mauricio Morea之前运行着阿根廷最大的一家开发工作室Games & Web,而在卖掉这家工作室后他决定不再面对如此大开销的工作。 所以他便创建了ZenStation,并与已经和多家娱乐代理建立关系的美国搭档进行合作。他们一起和美国客户签订了协议去寻找关于较小的授权浏览器游戏和手机游戏的廉价劳动力。

Morea表示,可以将ZenStation描述为代理或中间人,但他也认为他们是一家开发工作室,因为他们与所雇佣的工作室紧密合作,就跟他在Games & Web所工作的方式一样。他也说到他们与那些工作室签订白色标签协议是因为他不希望让那些可能在不同地方看到多款游戏的客户感到困惑。

“客户可能会说,‘嘿,我的合作对象到底是谁?’他们会因此感到困惑从而导致合作失去了严肃性。如果他们看到你和其它团队都参与了游戏制作,并在杂志社看到游戏时发现它未提及ZenStation,他们便会说,‘嘿,你告诉我你是主要开发者,但为什么是其他人出现在参与人员名单中?’这太奇怪了。”

Morea认为他们的客户通常都不会想了解制作游戏的特定开发者,他们只想看到最终的作品。

“如果有人站出来说,‘嘿,你的策略是什么?你是如何执行合同设计?你是与谁接洽?你是与谁共事?’你的回答是,‘等等,我已经做这件事10年了。我并不想回答你的这些问题。’分享是件很酷的事,但是准入障碍却不是很高。同时关于如何执行业务也不是什么大秘密了。”

“我并不想隐藏信息,但我也不是一直都将其公开在世人面前。”

“如果客户真的渴望了解制作团队的话,我便会感到奇怪。因为你是因为相信我才与我合作的。是你和我签订合同的。所以为何你还想知道谁是制作团队呢?你想要认证信息?作品集?当然,我可以提供给你一切。但是如果你想要他们的电话号码的话,恕我无法提供。”

Morea承认他们坚持保密的原因是不希望客户略过ZenStation而直接与开发商交涉。

他说道:“这是绝对有可能发生的事。因为这么做比较省钱。如果他们直接与团队合作,我们便赚不到保证金了。但我通常都让自己不要这么想。”

Morea表示ZenStation也会提供给西方客户一些拉美独立开发团队没有的优势—-生活在当地,以英语为母语的成员,标准化合同,当地的律师,始终如一的交流。这些元素能让客户对你更有信心,并避免他们略过你们这些中间商而直接找到开发商。

根据Morea,ZenStation在这些政策的执行方面非常灵活,一旦他们了解一个特定客户,他们便会告知对方参与的开发者的信息。他同样也说到,在很多情况下,客户并不希望ZenStation的名字出现在他们的游戏中。

整顿作品

2015年,游戏工作室的公众声誉可能影响着自己的生亡。

团队会雇人去管理他们的形象。任何生意可能都会取决于开发者的知名度。证书也成为了建立公共关系或组织众筹活动的最常见市场营销工具。

并非所有开发者都会使用这样的方法,对于我在本文中列举的多个例子,这样的营销是次要考虑因素。但是对于某些产业人士而言,白色标签工作会让自己掉进声誉黑洞中,并导致自己在今后很难找到工作。对于许多玩家来说,开发者的名字是帮助他们判断自己是否喜欢游戏的捷径。

对于那些尝试着建立声誉的工作室以及那些想要遵循开发者去选择游戏的玩家来说,白色标签项目便是一大阻碍。但是因为缺少整顿作品的方法,所以只要人们还有需求,这种方法便会一直存在着。这通常是关于协商问题,即一个人或一支小型团队不能一直拥有权力。

IGDA的游戏声誉特殊兴趣小组组长Thomas Allen说道:“我们很难去说服人们别再从事这样的工作。我觉得我们应该先鼓励雇员们别再这么做,但是困难之处便在于物质上的诱惑。”

建立起标准化游戏声誉的长期计划,Allen正致力于声誉认证项目中,这让工作室们可以获得相应标志去呈现于雇佣网站上并允许社区给予评价。他认为开发者不大可能那么轻松就接受这一项目,即使他们这么做了,这也只能促成参与公司的透明化。

但毕竟这是朝着正确方向迈出的第一步。因为不同程度的保密性,让产业获得100%的精确信息是不大可能的事,但这却是一个值得瞄准的目标。

而至少游戏工作室和客户还是愿意一起合作的。

本文为游戏邦/gamerboom.com编译,拒绝任何不保留版权的转发,如需转载请联系:游戏邦

THE SECRET DEVELOPERS OF THE VIDEO GAME INDUSTRY

by Matt Leone

In July 2015, developer Comcept launched a Kickstarter campaign for its game Red Ash. It didn’t go well.

Despite raising over $500,000 in pledges, the campaign missed its target and critics pummeled its approach — pointing to Comcept launching the campaign before seeing through a previous one, announcing a console port without identifying which console and continuing the campaign after finding external funding.

For production studio Hyde, which had teamed with Comcept to develop the game, the campaign presented a new problem.

Hyde has been around since 2002, has worked on over 200 games and has had a hand in some of Japan’s biggest franchises, including Final Fantasy, Persona and Yakuza. It just can’t talk about most of them. The team often works in secret, doing its job but not appearing in the credits or mentioning the work publicly. Speaking with Polygon, Hyde President Kenichi Yanagihara estimates that he will never be able to talk about 70 percent of what the company does. And that worked fine until Hyde asked the public for money.

“There definitely was some, I guess you could say blowback, from the announcement and with Hyde — people not knowing who they are,” says Comcept Assistant Producer Josh Weatherford. He cites a Tumblr post that warned fans to be cautious because, it claimed, Hyde didn’t have experience with action games. Weatherford says because of Hyde’s backseat approach, the team’s hands were tied over how much it could say in response to the complaints.

“I think it’s mostly just the lack of information,” he says. “You can’t talk about the thing so people are just going to assume the worst.”

Hyde is one of many game studios that often works in the shadows. Some call the approach “white label development,” “ghost development” or “secret team.” And it’s been around almost as long as video games have been.

With Kickstarter and social media making developer reputations more important than ever, Polygon recently looked into some of the reasons why it happens and the benefits and problems it can cause. Yanagihara says he enjoys working in secret, and he’s happy to take the good with the bad. For others it can be a source of frustration, a lack of choice or the only way to stay in business.

ORGANIZED SILENCE

Crediting has long been a sensitive topic in the game industry. It affects careers. It’s the kind of thing people complain about at parties. In 2015, a big budget game can require hundreds of employees and multiple external studios to make. Dealing with something at that scale — or even on smaller projects — mistakes can happen, as can internal disagreements. People get left out. People dispute their placement.

When an entire team agrees upfront to never publicly mention the work, though, many developers say it becomes a different issue.

“This generally tends to happen because a lot of development studios, and even publishers themselves, don’t want to be seen as having to rely on external parties,” says Alexander Fernandez, CEO of outsourcing work-for-hire group Streamline Studios. “They don’t want to take the mystique away from what they do. And so their effective goal here is to try to make sure people think this is all being made in one place.”

Fernandez says he hasn’t signed any white label deals in recent years, noting that he saw them more commonly 10 years ago, and he thinks it’s harmful to limit what developers can say because people rely on their portfolios to negotiate future jobs.

“In this business, it’s basically, ‘You’re only as good as your last project,’” he says. “So if you’re unable to speak about your projects, it’s very much a hard thing to get out there.”

There’s often a blurry line on how much developers can say, even on projects not meant to be white label. Representatives from several large work-for-hire studios say it’s common to have a self-promotion clause in a contract limiting what they can say, for instance, and those restrictions often lift around the time a game ships. But the client generally has the freedom to choose when to lift the restrictions.

For instance, Streamline was one of many teams that did outsourcing work on Kinect Star Wars, and even though the studio’s name appeared in the credits, Fernandez says he didn’t get permission to mention that work publicly until eight months after Microsoft released the game.

“It was just pretty much understood that no one would start talking about it,” he says. “I won’t say we weren’t allowed to, as much as it was clear that ‘you shouldn’t be talking about this.’”

It can also go the other way. Snowed In Studios is an independent team that worked on the director’s cut of Deus Ex: Human Revolution, and President Jean-Sylvain Sormany says he was initially under the impression it would be a white label job. Then, one day he heard the game’s publisher Square Enix planned to include his team’s name in the credits. Only then did he realize it was OK to discuss the work publicly.

People can also disagree on what it means to speak publicly — whether they can tell friends and family, mention it in business meetings, mention it on LinkedIn, put screenshots and logos on their websites. Sometimes this silence is written in the contract; other times it’s a general understanding.

According to the International Game Developers Association’s crediting guidelines, anyone who works a certain portion of a game’s total work days — five percent or 30 days, whichever is lower — should be listed in the credits and thus free to mention the work once a game is released. But that’s only a recommendation. The IGDA doesn’t have power to enforce anything.

And when a deal involves a gag order, the companies involved don’t tend to participate.

PLAYING BY THE RULES OF OTHER INDUSTRIES

Over the past three months, Polygon looked into white label work across the industry, and one of the most common situations we found is developers needing to stay quiet because they’re working with companies outside the game industry, companies that have their own policies on crediting.

Some might know Ottawa-based Fuel Industries for its work on the 2011 platformer Sideway: New York or for its role in securing the rights to dig up buried E.T. cartridges in Alamogordo, New Mexico. According to Product Director Nick Tremmaglia — who describes himself as “a creative director with a sense of reality” — approximately 80 percent of Fuel’s games are white label jobs. These often come from mainstream brands outside the game industry when companies hire Fuel to make games promoting their products but want to keep the spotlight on themselves.

“Usually they’re trying to simplify things,” he says. “For instance, the board game company we’re working with right now — they have a stable of developers [building approximately a half dozen products for them]. And I think just to keep things simple for the end user … I don’t think they have anything against us as developers. I don’t think they’re trying to take all of the glory. They’re trying to simplify it for people who might be seeing those brands inside of a game.”

“In the times when the product launches and it’s not successful, you’re not given that negative exposure either.”
Tremmaglia says he prefers to have Fuel’s name on its games when possible because it helps the team promote itself and negotiate future jobs, though he sees upsides in keeping Fuel’s name off certain products as well.

“I think it offers us some protection, right?” he says. “In the times when the product launches and it’s not successful, you’re not given that negative exposure either. Like every studio, we’ve had some games that launched and [weren’t] as great as we thought they [would be] when we started, and it’s nice when you search ‘Fuel’ those don’t come up.”

While Fuel defines itself as a “digital agency and entertainment studio,” often doing jobs that straddle the line between games and marketing, the company has also done white label work for traditional game companies including Electronic Arts and Zynga on mobile products.

And Fuel isn’t alone in working for clients both inside and outside the traditional game industry. Two relatively high-profile U.S. development studios known for their work on console games also tell Polygon that they occasionally do small white label jobs to help fill in gaps between projects. Both requested anonymity, however, because they want players and potential clients to think of them for their high-end games rather than their side projects.

HIDING WORK FROM INVESTORS

Sometimes the goal is not just to keep the work secret from players, but from a client’s investors as well. Many game development contracts include language to prevent teams from subcontracting work to other teams without first getting permission from their investors. Some teams ignore that language, though, says industry agent Ed Dille, and some smaller projects don’t include it.

SuperGenius, located in Oregon City, is an “art studio and support team,” according to Studio Director Paul Culp, meaning it functions like an outsourcing team but works closer with the client. Most of the time, it assists on games like The Walking Dead, Broken Age and the Skylanders series. But Culp says, once or twice a year, SuperGenius tends to take a white label job — what he calls “secret team” work.

Culp says these jobs don’t come up as often as he would expect, noting that he doesn’t tend to see them for traditional console games, but more with mobile games from first-time game developers or companies that skew more toward tech than games.

Specifically, he says he sees them from other developers that have external investors and don’t want those investors to know they need help — “to appease investors and look like their production’s higher than what it would have been just keeping it in-house.”

“Partially I think it’s investors,” he says later. “It’s also strictly, I want to say, ego. People feel like if they’re calling in a professional house to help them ship a game, that makes them look weak in some way.”

SuperGenius is also the only studio Polygon found for this story that charges more for white label work than for other jobs. Culp says he charges an extra 25 percent for secret team deals.

“Studios like us, we rely on our portfolios to get more business,” he says. “And if we can’t put something in our portfolio, then it costs. So in that case, when they don’t want people to talk about it, we just sign an agreement that’s an addition to the contract, and charge them an extra percentage for it.”

SELF-CENSORSHIP

For many in the West, white label work is something they would rather not do, but they do it because it pays well or because it gets them in the door with certain clients. For Hyde President Yanagihara, it’s something he enjoys. He likes the idea of being a supporting character rather than a public figure because it allows him to focus on the work.

Located in Tokyo, Hyde employs 50 people and works on eight to 10 games a year, doing a little bit of everything — programming, art, game design. It works with large publishers such as Konami, Bandai Namco and Square Enix. And unlike most Western studios Polygon spoke to for this story, Hyde doesn’t typically sign paperwork limiting what it can say; it simply makes a verbal agreement with the client.

Yanagihara says that, since many of Japan’s larger publishers have recently stopped growing or have reduced their in-house resources, they have needed to rely on studios like Hyde to fill in the gaps. He also says that, particularly with long-running franchises in Japan, those publishers prefer to keep the specifics of who makes the games out of the public eye.

For Yanagihara, it comes down to what’s best for the product. He thinks it’s common in the U.S. for players to buy a game because they follow the development team working on it, while in Japan it’s more common for players to buy a game because they’re familiar with the publisher.

“For example, with Call of Duty a lot of people [in the U.S.] might not think, ‘I’m gonna buy this game because it’s from Activision.’ They might say, ‘I’m going to buy this game because it’s from Infinity Ward,’” he says. “… In Japan, it’s very common to say, ‘I’m going to buy this game because it’s Square Enix. I’m going to buy this game because it’s Atlus. I’m going to buy this game because it’s Nintendo.’

“If you go the extra step and say, ‘Well actually, it’s created by this person,’ then it kind of weakens the player’s impression because it’s somebody they don’t know, or it’s a developer they didn’t expect. And there’s always a little bit of a fear that if you go that far and say that much, then the title won’t sell as much and it’ll be harder to market.”

He sees multiple other benefits to the approach as well.

On a practical level, it allows Hyde to work on two competing products simultaneously. Yanagihara gives an example from a few years back, when Hyde worked on a soccer game for Sega (which doesn’t have an English title but translates to “Let’s Make a Pro Soccer Club”), while working on another soccer title he can’t name at the same time. By keeping Hyde’s name out of the public eye, those games’ publishers didn’t have to worry about confusing players.

“It’s kind of a marketing strategy,” he says.”We don’t want everybody to think, ‘Hey, these guys make all the soccer games. Why is this one better than this one?’”

Staying in the shadows also allows Hyde access to work on big franchises, work that Yanagihara says would be less available under other circumstances. And he says the approach allows him to get honest feedback when he talks about games with friends, since they don’t know Hyde worked on them.

Yanagihara believes in Hyde’s approach to the degree that he’s sometimes hesitant to name names even when he gets approval from the client. Hyde did programming work on a recent numbered Final Fantasy game, for instance, but Yanagihara declines to say which part of which game because he doesn’t want to dilute the messaging for players.

“I can’t say exactly what it is, because then people will say, ‘Wait, Square Enix didn’t make that? I thought they were making it,’” he says. “I have an OK to say it, but I still don’t want to step on anybody’s toes.”

Yanagihara says the roots of this approach run deep in Japanese culture, with many people preferring not to seek the limelight and many classic businesses working this way. He draws a parallel to car companies, saying that some cars made in the U.S. include information on the specific factory where the car was built, but that doesn’t happen in Japan. The main difference in Hyde’s case is that the work often involves a sense of creativity that a car assembly line does not.

Going forward, Yanagihara wants Hyde to keep doing white label work, because he says the team takes pride in being able to contribute to big name franchises. And he also wants to do more credited work, in part to give younger team members a chance at the spotlight. Currently, Hyde is working with Atlus on an unannounced original role-playing game and Comcept to make Red Ash, amongst other projects.

CULTURAL DIFFERENCES

Hyde is far from alone. There are many developers working on big name console games in Japan that do not get credit. Like anything, these situations occur on a case-by-case basis.

Matt Smith is a Western-born programmer currently working at Tokyo-based studio Friend & Foe. Prior to his current job, he was on the publishing team at PopCap Japan, working with local studios to port PopCap’s franchises to the Nintendo DS. And for the DS version of tower defense game Plants vs. Zombies, he says, the studio he worked with didn’t want credit even when offered.

“We assumed that they’d want credit, and when we started talking to them about where to put them on the credits, they were like, ‘No no, you can’t put us on the credits,’” says Smith. “And we were sort of like, ‘Uh, OK …’ And it took a little bit of discussion and I had to talk to my Japanese boss at the time about what that was, and it’s [that] these companies basically want to be as close to nonexisting in the public eye as possible. Because they have big clients like Nintendo or other companies that, when they make a game using this company, they want it to look like Nintendo or Capcom or whoever made this title.”

Smith says he didn’t see any advantage in keeping the studio out of the credits. If anything, he saw an upside in having a local partner, since PopCap could benefit if Japanese customers knew the game was developed by a Japanese studio. (Though ultimately, the game didn’t end up shipping in Japan.)

“We compromised with them. We were like, ‘OK, well look, let’s put your team in the credits. We won’t mention your company, but we’ll put your team’s names in the credits.’ And they were like, ‘OK, but at the very bottom.’”

Smith’s example points to a small project, but there are plenty of larger productions done in secret as well. Kyoto-based developer Tose may be the world’s largest producer of white label game work, and handles games of all sizes.

With around 600 employees in Japan and another 400 or so in China and the Philippines, Tose works on 30 to 50 games a year, alongside other products such as internet-connected refrigerators. And it almost never takes credit unless an overseas client asks them to (see MySims, Disney Planes for 3DS and various WWE games). Tose’s official site calls the company a “silent force behind the scenes.”

Koji Morosawa is the leader of Tose’s overseas marketing office, and day to day, his job involves spreading the word about the company to potential international clients, which he says is a challenge given the company’s approach.

“It’s very difficult to put ourselves out there, because people always want to know, ‘So what have you done? What’s your track record?’ And, you know, it makes it difficult,” says Morosawa. “They want to see titles. They want to see lists. They want to see demos. But we’re contractually barred from doing so. …

“What I try to do anyway is invite them back to Japan, to our head office. We have a games vault that has not all, but a lot of the titles that we’ve worked on. And I don’t know how much of this I can say. Well, we do this. We invite them to our Kyoto office, to our games vault. We kind of turn our backs; we let them see [what’s there]. They can’t take any pictures. We can’t talk about it. But they can kind of see what we’ve worked on. [It gives] them an idea of our history and the breadth.”

Morosawa sees some of the same upsides to working in secret as Yanagihara at Hyde, but on a larger scale. He says that because of Tose’s size and reputation, it’s able to work with multiple competing companies at any given time, which gives it inside knowledge on where the industry is going that it can use to inform its internal game designs and business plans.

And while he agrees that there is a certain aspect of Japanese culture that plays into teams working in secret, he points specifically to Tose being headquartered in Kyoto as a more significant factor.

“It’s definitely Kyoto culture,” he says. “Kyoto companies — not only gaming companies, but Kyoto companies are known for working as a supporting act.”

MIDDLEMEN

In some cases, developers take white label work simply because it’s all they can get.

One developer in Iran, who spoke to Polygon on the condition that we not reveal his or his company’s names so as to not prevent his team from getting future work, is currently working on a mobile game for a popular mainstream brand under a white label agreement. He says his team takes the work since it doesn’t have other options.

Because the Iranian market is small, he says, and because his team isn’t able to sell its games worldwide, it’s risky to develop original titles. So his team takes white label jobs because it can get money upfront, and then the team uses some of that money to help fund its original games.

Often, he says his team works with a middleman who represents himself as a development studio to potential clients and then subcontracts the work out as deals happen, without telling those clients the games are made externally.

“It’s not so much about whether we agree with this practice as much as it is about making money,” the developer says. “I’m obviously not OK with this, because it’s my product and that product will win accolades in awards ceremonies and our studio won’t be mentioned. And all of our effort will have only been for financial reasons.”

He says that about two-thirds of his studio’s games are white label, and he doesn’t see any upsides to white label jobs apart from them paying upfront and being low risk.

“At the end of the day, we as a studio are trying to reduce the number of made-to-order projects as much as possible in order to focus on our own projects. But right now, because we need the money, we accept those kinds of projects.”

In Buenos Aires, a company called ZenStation Studio plays a middleman role of its own, matching developers in Latin America up with Western clients.

Co-founder and Business Director Mauricio Morea previously ran one of the biggest development studios in Argentina, Games & Web, and after selling it he decided he didn’t want to deal with the same amount of overhead. So he started ZenStation, working with a partner in the U.S. who has contacts with various entertainment agencies. Together, they regularly sign deals with U.S. clients looking for cheap work on small licensed browser and mobile games, for brands like Ben 10 and Scooby-Doo.

Morea says, in practical terms, it makes sense to describe ZenStation as an agent or broker, but he thinks of it as a development studio because he works closely with the studios he hires, similar to how he worked at Games & Web. And he says he makes white label agreements with those studios because he doesn’t want to confuse clients who might see multiple names floating around.

“The client might say, ‘Hey, but wait. Who’s working with me?’ … It’s more complicated for the client and it loses seriousness. They unfocus if they see you and then some other team who did the game, and then they see it on a magazine and it doesn’t mention ZenStation, and [they say], ‘Hey man, you told me you’re the head and I’m talking with you, and then some other guys are [taking credit].’ It’s weird.”

Most of the time, Morea says his clients aren’t interested in knowing the specific developers who make the games and are simply interested in seeing a portfolio of past work.

“If somebody comes out and says, ‘Hey, what’s your strategy? How do you do contract designs? Who do you contact? Who do you work with?’ ‘Hey man, wait a minute. I’ve been doing this for 10 years. I’m not gonna give you my book,’ you know?” He laughs. “Because it’s cool to share and everything, but the barriers of entry are not too high. Also it’s not that there’s a big secret on how to do business. It’s basically knocking on doors, saying, ‘Hey, we do this’ …”

“I don’t hide the information, but I don’t give it away all the time …”

“If [a client is] really anxious to know who the team is, I get suspicious. Because you trust me; you work with me. I’m the face. I sign the contracts. So why would you want to [know who the team is]? You want credentials? You want portfolios? Sure. Here’s the portfolio. Here’s their credentials. Here’s everything. But if [you] want their phone number, it’s kind of weird.”

Morea admits that part of the reason for the secrecy is that he doesn’t want ZenStation to be cut out of the equation if a client chooses to go straight to a developer.

“It could happen, definitely yes,” he says. “It’s obvious that it’s going to be cheaper. Because if they work directly with a team, the margin we [get goes away]. But I don’t even want to think like that.”

Morea says ZenStation also offers Western clients upsides that individual development teams in Latin America aren’t able to — having staff in a local time zone, having native English speakers, money in the same country, standardized contracts, local lawyers, consistent communication. These things give more confidence to clients, make it easier for them and are reasons not to cut out the middleman, he says.

According to Morea, ZenStation is also flexible with some of these policies, and once he gets to know a certain client well he will sometimes tell them about the developers involved. He also says, in many cases, the clients don’t want ZenStation’s name on the games either.

POLICING THE WORK

In 2015, game studios can live and die on their public reputations.

Teams hire people to manage their image. Business deals can hinge on a developer’s popularity. And credentials are one of the most common marketing tools for a public relations or crowdfunding campaign.

Not all developers take that approach, and for many of those featured in this article, that sort of marketing is a secondary concern. But for some in the industry, white label work falls into a black hole at the bottom of the crediting spectrum that makes it harder to find future jobs. And for many players, a developer’s name can be a sort of shorthand to help them figure out if they will like a game. As in film or music, it can be hard to separate the artist from the art.

White label work presents challenges for studios trying to establish reputations and for players trying to follow developers they like and find games they enjoy. Yet given the lack of a way to police the work, it will likely exist as long as people have something to gain from it. Like many things, it’s often an issue of subtle negotiations where a single person or small team doesn’t always hold the power.

“It’s kinda hard to suggest to someone to not take a job,” says Thomas Allen, head of the IGDA’s game credits special interest group. “The employers I think should be encouraged not to do it, but the hard part is incentivizing that.”

As a long term-plan to try to standardize crediting in general, Allen is working on the Credits Certification Program, which will allow studios to earn badges to display on hiring websites if they disclose their credits and allow for a community review. He thinks it’s unlikely that developers will open their books for the program as much as he would like them to right away, though — and even if they do, that would only enable transparency from companies that choose to participate.

It’s a step as what he sees as the right direction. And though it may not be possible for the industry to ever reach 100 percent accuracy, given the secrecy involved on different levels, he sees it as a nice goal to aim toward.

At least, for the studios and clients willing to play along.(source:polygon

 


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