In early 2025, veteran developers Justin Fischer and Brock Feldman found themselves suddenly unemployed when Warner Bros. shut down Player First Games, the studio behind the free‑to‑play fighting title Multiversus. Multiversus had entered a public beta in 2022, briefly went offline to prepare for a full launch in May 2024, and was acquired by Warner shortly after its version 1.0 debut.
Yet just seven months later the parent company pulled the plug, citing unsustainable user‑acquisition costs and a broader industry shift away from the free‑to‑play model. "The economics are changing for everyone," Fischer told GamesIndustry.biz, adding that the high cost of attracting players has become a universal headache, not a problem unique to their title. Their story mirrors a wave of layoffs that has swept the games sector since 2022.
More than 58,000 positions have been eliminated, with North America bearing the brunt. The AAA arena, once seen as a safe haven for seasoned talent, now feels as volatile as the 1983 crash, according to 1UP Ventures partner Amir Satvat, who called the current climate "ground zero for destruction" in a recent Edge feature. Faced with a shrinking pool of AAA openings, many seasoned creators—Fischer, Feldman, and others—have pivoted toward indie development. The transition is rarely painless: salaries drop sharply, and the indie marketplace is crowded, making failure a real possibility.
Still, the limited alternatives and the lure of creative freedom have driven a growing number of former AAA staff to launch their own studios. Fischer and Feldman responded by founding Airlock Games in 2023. Their inaugural project, the sci‑fi horror management simulation *What the Stars Forgot*, reflects a deliberate choice to start small.
"Raising $30 million for a massive multiplayer shooter makes no sense when user‑acquisition costs are through the roof," Fischer explained. Instead, they aimed for a concept they could develop quickly, stay passionate about, and release without the pressure of massive marketing budgets. "We can fail fast," he said, borrowing a common tech mantra, and emphasized that the project needed to be realistic given current industry constraints.
The shift has also reignited personal enthusiasm. Fischer described his current work as "the most fun and energising" period of his career, noting that senior roles in large studios often pigeonhole employees into narrow specialties. After years of being confined to producer duties, he now experiments with audio, dialogue, and other disciplines, keeping his brain engaged on multiple fronts. Airlock Games has been meticulous about scope.
"Brock and I are good at defining limits," Fischer said, recounting countless conversations where an idea would quickly balloon into a full‑blown feature set. By keeping the project tight, they avoid the "rabbit‑hole of content" that can stall development indefinitely. Funding the venture has proven tricky.
The investment climate has cooled dramatically as capital has migrated toward AI and other post‑COVID trends. Consequently, Airlock intends to ship *What the Stars Forgot* without external financing. "We both have authority issues, so we prefer not to dilute the company," Fischer added.
"We can’t control the market or publisher landscape, but we can control what we build, how we ship it, and how we talk to players." Nevertheless, the studio remains open to "interesting partners" and successfully raised over $25,000 via a Kickstarter campaign last year. In the meantime, Fischer and Feldman are living off their Warner Bros. severance, describing the operation as "scrappy" and entirely bootstrapped. This autonomy allows them to focus on creation rather than corporate hierarchies or investor demands.
Both founders are realistic about the odds. They measure success in tiers: first, simply continuing to make games; second, growing the studio; and third, achieving millionaire status. At present, the first two levels are the primary goals. A parallel narrative follows Murray Pannell, a veteran marketer who spent decades at EA, Xbox, PlayStation, and Ubisoft before leaving 2K Games in 2021.
After stints at Build A Rocket Boy, PlayFusion, and Everreach Labs, Pannell teamed up with designer Phil O'Connor—another former AAA professional—to launch Big Dumb Games in early 2026. Their debut title, the co‑op space‑survival game *Starship Bloopers*, epitomizes the dramatic shift from well‑funded publishing roles to hands‑on, resource‑constrained development. Both Pannell and O'Connor recount frequent restructurings, project cancellations, and constant relocations throughout their AAA careers.
"My wife said, 'That's it. We're not moving any more,'" O'Connor recalled, underscoring the personal toll of perpetual instability. Job hunting grew increasingly futile; recruiters even advised him to downplay his 30 years of experience, fearing it made him appear "old." Faced with a barren job market, the duo concluded that creating their own studio was the only viable path. "It's less risky to be the masters of our own fate than to rely on an industry that has become an unreliable partner," Pannell explained.
The trade‑off is a significant salary cut. Big Dumb Games operates on a shoestring budget, funded primarily by the founders' savings, with hopes of securing modest grants and seed capital.
Pannell also recently took a publishing lead at Steel City Interactive, providing a safety net. Compensation for new hires is presently profit‑share rather than salary. "We can't pay you today, but if the game succeeds, everyone will benefit," Pannell said, painting a picture of future Ferraris and Barbados vacations for the team.
While programmers remain in demand and are less likely to work for equity alone, many artists are currently unemployed, creating a pool of talent eager for opportunity. Despite the financial strain, both Pannell and O'Connor describe their indie work as among the most rewarding experiences of their lives, even if it lacks the monetary upside of AAA projects.
O'Connor highlights the newfound agency: "In AAA you walk into a pre‑designed project; now the project is my baby." The indie market is fiercely competitive—over 700 games launched on Steam in a single week recently—but O'Connor believes the appetite for fresh, boutique experiences is stronger than ever. He observes that major publishers are recycling familiar formulas, while players increasingly seek unique, smaller‑scale titles. Even if *Starship Bloopers* fails to make a splash, O'Connor vows to keep creating: "I’ll keep making games until I can’t, because no one else will hire me.
And frankly, I don’t want to work for anyone else any more."