Would You Seize It?

Look... if you had one shot to make a game that people actually wanted to play, one chance to get it right, to speak directly to someone’s soul before they hit the Netflix button, would you go for it? Or would you roll the dice on another roguelike about lost souls in an ancient dungeon no one asked for?

I’m not here to roast you. I’m here because I care. And because I’ve been watching the game industry grow up while a lot of its design strategies haven’t.

So let’s have the talk. The one I’d give to any new indie dev over coffee and too much cream, because your studio's survival might actually depend on this one mindset shift: your competition isn’t other games. It’s literally everything else.

That’s right. Your competition is pizza night. It’s new episodes of The Bear. It’s a newborn baby, a sleepy partner, a group of friends on a couch who can’t agree on what to play. You are not just battling other devs. You are battling life.

Gamers Grow Up, Your Design Needs To

Now, I’m still a gamer. I still love playing games. I’d love to find a title I could pour myself into, get good, climb ranks, all that. But here’s the reality: when I finally get a moment to breathe, I want to spend that time with my wife. Or with my son. Or with friends who, let’s just say, aren’t exactly chomping at the bit to drop into Apex.

And that’s not because Apex isn’t great. It’s because Apex doesn’t fit.

That’s the operative word here: fit. The idea that a game has to fit someone’s actual life, not just their interests. I’m in a stage where carving out three solid hours to get competitive feels like I’m robbing myself of something else: connection, rest, presence. And I’m not alone.

Most of the people who have the money to buy your game don’t have the time to burn on mastering it. If your marketing strategy hinges on high skill expression, leaderboard clout, or hundred-hour campaigns, then your audience isn’t grown-ups with families. It’s twenty-year-olds with caffeine and flexibility. And I love those folks, and while that might get you the sales you expected, it’s limiting your audience.

Big Studio Armor vs. Indie Exposure

Let’s talk about economy of scale, because it matters.

If you’re a AAA studio, you can survive a miss. You’ve got loyal fans who will buy your next thing out of sheer momentum. Ubisoft could drop a half-baked Assassin’s Creed spin-off and still rake in profit. Blizzard can afford a dud because WoW subs and Overwatch skins will patch the hole.

That kind of buffer lets you experiment. It gives you wiggle room. You can afford to take risks because one bad launch isn’t the end of your studio.

But if you’re an indie dev? A flop isn’t just a disappointment, it’s a financial collapse. You don’t have multiple revenue streams to fall back on. You don’t have a pre-installed fanbase ready to throw money at your next project no matter what. You’ve got a handful of team members, a burn rate, and a deadline. And if you spend a year or two building something that doesn’t connect because your audience was too busy going out for sushi or just playing something more approachable, then that’s not just a creative miss. That’s a shutdown risk.

So no, it’s not about making something better than the competition. It’s about making something that actually gets picked over everything else. Because if your game doesn’t make it into people’s free time, it might be game over. For real.

The Netflix Test

Let’s get brutal for a second.

It’s 9:15 p.m. My son’s asleep. My wife’s winding down. We both finally have an hour to relax. Do you think I’m going to spend it grinding ranked matches against teenagers who’ve logged five hundred hours this month? Buddy, I can barely commit to brushing my teeth twice a day.

That’s the test your game needs to pass. Not “Is it fun?” Not “Is it polished?” But is it more appealing than watching one episode of a comfort show in bed?

If the answer’s no, then I’m not playing it. Neither is my wife. Neither are my friends who have jobs, pets, schedules, and group chats full of memes. Your real competition is whatever’s easier to start and just as satisfying to finish.

That’s not defeatist. That’s clarifying.

The Real Competition: Shared Time

Now, yes, some people play games while watching Netflix. I’ve seen it. I’ve done it. Especially with grindy games or low-focus gameplay loops, the second screen is real. But don’t let that blur the truth: not all distractions are created equal.

You can’t play Nightreign and go to a bar with your friends at the same time. You can’t boot up a co-op strategy game and also be on a dinner date. Those aren’t parallel activities. Those are choices.

When the thing your game competes with is shared time (connection, bonding, laughter, presence) it has to bring something really compelling to the table. The question shifts from “Will someone choose my game tonight?” to “Is this the thing an entire group of people will want to do together?”

That’s the level of value you’re aiming for. Not just something someone can play, but something they’ll rally people around.

Games That Get It

Now, I’m not just here to soapbox. I want to highlight some games that do get it right.

Let’s start with Sunderfolk. If you’re a D&D fan without a weekly campaign, or someone who wants that collaborative, story-driven experience without the time-suck or dice math, Sunderfolk is it. It’s accessible (you use your phone), it’s charming (my wife is obsessed with the characters), and it’s satisfying in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you have to sacrifice your evening to “get into it.”

There’s no meta to memorize. No grind to survive. Just a clever, cozy, co-op adventure that we can pick up, play, and feel great about.

Then there’s PlateUp! This is where my inner efficiency nerd shines. High-pressure restaurant management, chaotic teamwork, and a loop that’s both intense and joyful. My wife and I get to co-manage a kitchen without the stress of a real health inspector and, let me tell you, that’s a kind of couple’s therapy you don’t get from Call of Duty.

And even Palworld, for all its memes and polarizing content, had a moment in our house. My wife liked discovering new creatures and ticking off the collection boxes. I got to optimize builds and min-max materials. We both got something out of it, without either of us having to compromise who we are as players.

These games don’t ask us to leave our lives behind to enjoy them. They join our lives.

Fit > Flash

Here’s what indie developers need to hear: flashy trailers don’t matter if your game doesn’t fit.

You can’t out-budget the big guys. You can’t out-hype them either. But you can out-fit them. You can make a game that understands who your player is, where they are in life, what time they have, and what makes them feel seen.

You can design for the thirty-something parent who only has one hour to unwind, not because they don’t love games, but because they love other things too. You can create something for the friend group who meets once a month and just wants a great couch co-op. You can think about someone who used to raid in WoW, but now has three kids and a real bedtime.

You can win by designing for now, not for nostalgia.

Meet Them Where They Are, and Offer Something Better

That’s the whole point. Meet players where they are, but don’t stop there. Your game has to offer something that’s worth choosing.

Not just “good for a game.” Not just “easy to pick up.” But valuable enough to beat out everything else on the table.

Think about it. If someone’s planning a date night, why would they play your game instead? Maybe it’s because your game is the date night. Something cooperative, personal, memorable. If someone’s thinking about going out for drinks with friends, would it be more fun to have those friends come over, open a few beers, and play your game instead? What makes that a better hang?

This isn’t just about making something casual or accessible. It’s about defining your game’s value relative to everything else someone could be doing. What makes your game the better choice?

If you’re a small studio, this is your leverage. You don’t need the biggest budget. You need the clearest value proposition. You need to give people a reason to say, “Yeah, let’s do this instead.”

Because if your game can stand shoulder to shoulder with date nights, group hangs, even just a quiet evening on the couch, and win? That’s not just a successful launch. That’s a game that lives in people’s lives.

Make that game.

And they won’t just choose it. They’ll bring others with them.