The CEO Who Admits Everything We Feared—But Won’t Take Responsibility
Let me tell you why this Ustwo Games CEO quote feels like a gut punch wrapped in a confession: “We’ve been a little too romantic about long-term job security.” Maria Sayans didn’t just admit the video game industry’s dirty secret—she weaponized it as a business strategy. And here’s the kicker: she hates this approach, yet still plans to implement it. This isn’t just hypocrisy; it’s a masterclass in corporate cognitive dissonance. But let’s dig deeper, because this isn’t about one company—it’s a symptom of a dying dream.
The Death of the ‘Golden Age’ Illusion
Sayans waxes nostalgic about the early 2000s, calling it a time when “we had it very good.” Personally, I think this reveals a fundamental disconnect. Was that era truly golden, or was it just the calm before capitalism’s storm? The industry boomed on the backs of passionate creators who believed in craft over contracts. But as budgets ballooned and investors demanded returns, companies realized stability was a liability. The real tragedy? Older execs like Sayans romanticize their own privilege while dismantling the very systems that benefited them. It’s like a landlord complaining about rising rents while hiking your lease.
Contractors as the New Cannon Fodder
Let’s unpack this gem: “We’ll have a core team, but growth comes through contractors.” Translation: “We want creativity without accountability.” Contractors already dominate film and TV production—now gaming wants that ‘flexibility.’ But what does this mean for innovation? From my perspective, transient teams breed disposable games. Why pour soul into a project if you’re just a line item on a spreadsheet? This isn’t cost-cutting—it’s soul-dilution. And don’t get me started on the irony of Ustwo (a union-buster) suddenly caring about “nimble operating costs.” London’s pensions and benefits are apparently too much of a burden, but executives’ salaries? Never up for debate.
The ‘I Hate This But’ Defense
Ah, the corporate oxymoron: “I hate this industry trend, but I’ll execute it anyway.” This excuse reeks of moral cowardice. When Sayans calls contractors “a shift in how we want to work,” she’s really saying, “Capitalism demands sacrifice, and workers are the altar.” What many people don’t realize is that this mindset creates a vicious cycle—companies avoid investment, games become overpriced rehashes, players revolt, then layoffs follow. It’s not just layoffs that destroy culture; it’s the slow erosion of purpose. Why should anyone care about Monument Valley 4 if the team behind it exists on month-to-month contracts?
A Deeper Rot: Gaming’s Identity Crisis
This isn’t just about budgets—it’s about identity. The gaming industry built itself on rebellion, creativity, and community. Now it’s adopting Hollywood’s worst habits: transient crews, risk-averse projects, and worker exploitation masked as “flexibility.” A detail I find especially interesting? Sayans’ framing of pensions as a liability rather than a promise. That word choice—“we have employees with pensions and so on”—reeks of disdain. It raises a deeper question: When did caring about workers become a romantic folly? If we accept this logic, what’s next? Health insurance as a nostalgic luxury? Paid maternity leave as a quaint tradition?
Final Thoughts: The End of Creative Loyalty
Here’s the truth no executive wants to admit: You can’t buy artistic genius on a spreadsheet. Gaming’s obsession with “nimble” costs reminds me of fast fashion—cheap products, faster burnout. And while Sayans claims this shift is inevitable, I’d argue it’s a choice. Companies like Nintendo still prioritize stability without sacrificing quality. So why can’t Ustwo? Because modern capitalism isn’t about sustainability—it’s about quarterly lines on a graph. This isn’t progress; it’s cowardice dressed as innovation. And as someone who’s watched this industry evolve from bedroom coders to corporate behemoths, I’ll mourn the death of ‘romantic’ job security until someone explains why exploitation is the only path forward.
