A Snapshot of the Gaming Industry: Some Leave, Some Enter, and Some Blaze Their Own Trails

In 2025, the domestic gaming market finally began to gradually recover.

According to the latest Q3 China Game Industry Quarterly Report jointly released by Gamma Data and the China Game Industry Committee, the domestic Chinese game market generated revenue of 88.026 billion yuan from July to September, marking a 6.96% quarter-over-quarter increase and ending the downward trend that had persisted since the fourth quarter of 2024.

While the apparent growth in the numbers is certainly encouraging, the turbulence the gaming industry has experienced in recent years is equally evident. Furthermore, with the rapid advancement of AI technology and its rapid expansion in the gaming industry, many have come to believe that “AI won’t replace programmers, but developers who don’t know how to use AI may be left behind.”

In fact, the strong support the government has provided to the gaming industry in recent years has served as a powerful catalyst for its continued growth. Cities such as Shanghai, Shenzhen, Guangzhou, and Chengdu have all introduced a range of favorable policies for gaming companies and their products. It is against this backdrop that a large number of young people, driven by their dreams, have boldly entered this “land of fantasy,” infusing the industry with fresh energy.

Some say the gaming industry is like a fortress: while it is filled with the frustrations of reality, it offers those outside endless dreams and fantasies. Some want to get in, while others want to get out.

Recently, the "Light Gaming Dream Workshop" National Game Creation Competition, co-hosted by Tencent and the Nanshan District Government, has just come to a close. As one of the judges, Tea House witnessed the creation process of numerous entries and took this opportunity to chat with many of the award-winning game developers.Some are seasoned professionals who have been grinding it out in the gaming industry for years; others are developers who once left the industry but have since returned to the front lines; and still others are passionate college students who haven’t yet graduated.

Within this small "walled city," I caught a glimpse of a corner of the gaming industry that remains full of vitality and passion.

01

Within these walls, we persevere because of our passion

“The reason I chose to make this game for the competition was simply to prove that I was right,” L, the producer of *Rise of the Stickman*, told me.

L’s former employer was a subsidiary of a major domestic company that had no prior experience in game development and was simply looking to test the waters and break into a new market. At the time, they planned to clone a marble tower defense game. Drawing on his years of industry experience, L believed that in the casual game market, speed is everything; if they couldn’t gain an advantage in development speed, incorporating other gameplay elements would help them gain a foothold.

At the time, gear-based gameplay was all the rage, and his idea was to combine the two and come up with something innovative. However, the startup team was relatively conservative and reluctant to try new things. Ultimately, there was a slight difference in their visions, so L decided to leave.

Surprisingly, however, it was precisely that fusion of tower defense and gear mechanics—which had initially been overlooked—that earned him a top prize in the Qingyou Dream Workshop competition.

Screenshots from *Rise of the Stickman*

In fact, this wasn’t the first time he’d been dealt a blow by the clash between reality and his ideals. He recalled joining a casual gaming company where he worked on setting stats for card games. He had poured his heart into researching ways to increase the game’s value, but the project ultimately never took off. The reason was that the boss had made a fortune selling a game, becoming an overnight success, and then launched a dozen or so projects all at once—which ultimately led to their project being axed.

He then admitted, “*Rise of the Stickman* was the first game I ever made, and my original goal in starting the project was simply to prove that my idea was right.“To be honest, I had tried making games before, but they all failed. The reason I succeeded this time is that, while I found many of my initial ideas interesting, I hadn’t developed a complete framework to support them. By building a comprehensive blueprint structure using the LightGame Workshop editor and leveraging its robust resource management tools, I was finally able to realize my dream. This experience taught me an important lesson: only when you make the games you truly want to make will that strong conviction help you ultimately achieve your goals.”

L likes to read books in his spare time

Compared to L, who has been drifting from place to place, Xiu Xiu—who currently works at a game company—is clearly a bit luckier. He has grown from a clueless new graduate into a pillar of the company. However, the culture of overtime and the working conditions for employees still leave him, a veteran who has been in the industry for many years, with plenty of complaints.In his view, the company’s annual performance reviews serve more as a management tool than an accurate reflection of employees’ true capabilities.

Photos of Xiu Xiu at the Game Jam

It was precisely this authentic, firsthand perspective that served as the initial inspiration for the award-winning game *Animal Keeper*.

He explained, “The term ‘animal staff’ has three layers of meaning: first, it refers to an enclosure housing many animals; second, it depicts animals transformed into spheres; and finally, it implies that the animals have become employees, truly taking on the status of beasts of burden.”

Winning the award for *Animal Crew* has only strengthened his resolve to stay true to his original vision: what he truly wants to create are games that bring joy to players, regardless of genre or format—but certainly not the kind of pay-to-win, stats-driven products.

Previously scrapped game

At the end of the interview, he also told me a story: “Qingyou Dream Workshop has a feature that lets you generate a QR code after packaging a project, allowing you to share it freely as a mini-program that doesn’t require downloading. At first, I didn’t think this feature was very useful, until recently when my younger cousin came over to play. Since he’s in elementary school, he’s only ever played Chinese mobile games, and his parents have always been critical of games.I originally just wanted to let him try it out via the mini-program, but unexpectedly, he got really into it by the end and actually recommended it to his parents, saying I’d made a really fun game. To be honest, even though he didn’t understand the game’s underlying themes, seeing someone close to me so happy simply because the game was fun gave me a real sense of accomplishment.”

02

No matter where I go, I can’t seem to break my connection to gaming

Compared to the game industry professionals still working in the field, I’ve also met quite a few developers who left game companies in the past but are now finding it difficult to return—their stories are even more poignant.

Yeqiao, the developer of *Dream of the Falling Stone*, recalls that in 2018, she and a group of friends participated in Tencent’s Game Design Open Class, where they collaborated to develop a complete game. At the time, Tencent offered them an interview opportunity, but unfortunately, Yeqiao missed out on this chance and let the best opportunity to enter the gaming industry slip through her fingers.

Night Sparrow herself

Fortunately, this setback didn’t deter her. After majoring in software engineering, she managed to land a job at a major domestic game company through campus recruitment—a sort of “indirect route.” Unexpectedly, however, she eventually had to leave the gaming industry she loved due to health issues and took a position at a public institution.

However, she didn’t give up on game development. In her spare time, she teamed up with several friends to participate in game jams and various domestic game development competitions, achieving impressive results.Interestingly, the award-winning game *Dream of the Stone Meteor* was developed by Yeque as a solo entry. With narrative choices at its core, Yeque built the game’s framework and then leveraged the powerful resource management features of LightGame Studio to quickly populate it with assets, significantly boosting development efficiency and ultimately securing the top prize.

Screenshots from *Dream of the Falling Stone*

When I asked her why she hadn’t considered returning to the gaming industry, she replied with remarkable candor: “After all, I’ve been away from the industry for a while, and with how competitive it is these days, I probably wouldn’t even get past the resume screening.” But then she added, “Even though I can’t get into a game company, making games is still something I truly enjoy, and I’ve never thought of giving it up.”

In contrast, Hu Zhenren, the developer of *Purge*, had a somewhat winding path into the gaming industry. He previously worked in the film and television industry as a script editor at a company in Beijing. As the industry faced a downturn due to the pandemic, he returned to his hometown for a while. Afterward, following a friend’s recommendation, he found himself, by a twist of fate, joining a mobile game company as a story designer.

Weird Complaints About School Cafeterias

Interestingly, he had never previously considered game development as part of his future career plans, but during his time at the game company, he discovered that making games felt more like a way to connect with the world. Compared to the passive nature of film and television, the interactivity and sense of feedback inherent in games suited him better.

At first, his plan was to work at a mobile game company during the day and study game engine programming on his own at night, but the grueling overtime schedule eventually took its toll, leaving him no choice but to quit his job and embark on a solo journey to develop games.But reality is often harsh. Hu Zhenren, who had not yet mastered game engines and lacked any experience in full-scale development, attempted several projects, all of which ended in failure. Ironically, *Purge*, the game that won the award, became the first game he successfully developed on his own.

Screenshots from the game *Purge*

When asked about his future plans, he joked that he was about to face a mid-life crisis at 35. Since he lacked a technical background and couldn’t sweet-talk gullible programmers, he had no choice but to take a few years off to learn engine development, programming, and other related skills. Ultimately, he chose to pursue a master’s degree at the School of Digital Media at Beijing University of Posts and Telecommunications.

“Will you still make games after that?” I asked, a little curious.

“I’m definitely going to work in the gaming industry,” he said after a moment’s thought. “After graduation, I might start my own team, or go back to a game company to learn more. There are really only two paths into game development: one is for those who research the guides thoroughly from the start, allocate their skill points strategically, and breeze through the game; the other is for people like me—those who enter the field without that kind of preparation, who love to explore freely, and aren’t confined to a fixed skill build.“Life is only so long. I might not go as far as they do, since they’ve been on this path from the start, but I firmly believe I’ll explore more broadly and see more than they do.”

Both Ye Que and Hu Zhun once left the gaming industry, but both returned to the field because of their passion for "making games." For them, the Qingyou Dream Studio UGC editor serves as a bridge, allowing them to reconnect with their passion and dreams.

03

Beyond the Walls: Knocking on the Door of Dreams Through Art

While the interviewees mentioned above have all, to varying degrees, experienced the “reality” behind the gaming industry, Final—the winner of the Outstanding Game Award whom we interviewed last—is somewhat different. As a current graduate student, he shared with me a somewhat “unique” dream of a game, one that reflects the mindset of an idealist.

Final usually likes to share food

It seems that most people in the gaming industry have harbored a childhood dream of making games, but that wasn’t the case for Final. He majored in materials science in college, but in order to improve his job prospects, he resolutely switched to computer science during his graduate studies. Making games wasn’t a grand ambition he’d had since childhood; in fact, it wasn’t even one of the career options he considered after graduation.

After our brief conversation, I got the impression that Final was more of a “pragmatist”—everything he does is based on rational thought, so making games seemed like nothing more than an unintended detour from his predetermined path.But then he told me with absolute certainty that he was actually an “idealist.” His life was originally supposed to proceed steadily along the predetermined path mentioned earlier, but it was precisely because of games that they became one of the few variables in his life, leading him to develop more “idealistic” fantasies about the world and his own life. He ultimately embarked on a life path he had never imagined before.

So, where did it all begin? He later recalled that, back in college, he had a crush on a girl, so he decided to create a small RPG game himself. It depicted how they met, the little moments they shared, and the words he wanted to use to confess his feelings. Thanks to this deeply touching surprise, he ultimately got what he wanted.

Hello, kitty!

It was precisely because of this turning point that, in addition to a tremendous sense of accomplishment, he began to re-examine what gaming meant to him: “The reason games are called the ‘ninth art’ is that they can convey certain emotions and ideas through sight, sound, and touch; they are an incredibly compelling medium.“For me, my childhood experiences were like a blank slate. Being able to experience the lives of different protagonists in games made it easy to adopt their perspectives to examine and understand certain issues, and to imagine myself as the master of that world. I believe this stems from the influence of ideas instilled in me from a young age. Conversely, creating games allows me to truly realize these seemingly ethereal fantasies.”

Later, influenced by the popular 2D anime-style mobile games of the time, he began teaching himself to draw during his freshman year of college and created numerous fan art pieces featuring various characters. In just one year, he had amassed 17,000 followers on Pixiv.

Characters currently in development

But before long, 3D-rendered characters opened up a whole new world for him. From the initial modeling to texturing and rendering, then to rigging the skeleton, and finally seeing the character come to life—it felt as though he had breathed new life into an entire universe. If illustration is more about expressing one’s own emotions, then these 3D characters, capable of interacting with the game world, truly bring that world to life.

Perhaps in an effort to get closer to his dream, he resolutely chose to focus on game engine rendering and 3D modeling, and this became a major turning point in his life.

Back then, the best way for college students to break into the gaming industry was to participate in various game development competitions, stand out from the crowd, and attract the attention of game developers. Last year, Final entered the MoZhiWu National 3D Rendering Competition and was fortunate enough to win first prize in the modeling category.

He joked, “The first prize for this competition was sponsored by ASUS—a high-spec Tencent 5 PRO laptop. Just think, I used to be stuck with a piece of junk like a GTX 1650; whether I was rendering or gaming, it was always so laggy. When I look at it that way, this new computer is kind of a turning point in my life, isn’t it?”

That award-winning laptop

But in fact, winning this award made him truly realize that a career in game development was a viable path; that his artistic style could be appreciated by the majority of people; and that he could use this to build a complete game world. This sense of excitement was far more intense than simply owning a laptop, because it marked the first real step he had taken on his journey in the gaming industry.

“After that, I started trying my hand at independent game development. My first game was a roguelike card game with an anime-style art style, but I had to put it on hold halfway through because it wasn’t meeting my expectations.” A hint of regret crossed his face as he explained, “I realized that the art requirements and costs far exceeded my capabilities. Creating a single character model took about a month, so 12 characters would have taken roughly a year. I also had no experience with game mechanics—I could only rely on my imagination—so in the end, I had no choice but to shelve the project for the time being.”

BOSS Concept Design

His first failed attempt was a significant setback, but he saved some of his settings and ideas to use later, and things soon took a turn for the better.In May of this year, Tencent’s Light Game Dream Workshop game development competition reignited his hope. The editor’s powerful scene-building features allowed him, a non-professional developer, to quickly familiarize himself with the game development framework. Moreover, the ability to use AI to generate specific assets based on text descriptions eliminated the need for tedious groundwork—essentially “reinventing the wheel”—and significantly boosted development efficiency. Ultimately, Final incorporated his previous settings and successfully created his very first game, *The Traveler of the Void Sea*.

Concept Design for the Map

When I asked him what he found most difficult about the process, he replied with just two words: “Anxiety.”

He admitted that this anxiety stems from all sorts of things—maybe he’s worked on something for days without seeing any progress, or he’s tweaked the system over and over again; or perhaps he’s finished a character or skill only to find it falls short of expectations, leaving him feeling like it’s a total waste of time.

The night he submitted his work for review, he couldn’t sleep. Lying in bed, he began to ponder the meaning of life. He tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, his mind racing with thoughts of whether he would win, whether the judges would be baffled when they saw it, and what on earth he had actually created.

But his anxiety was quickly put to rest. The next day, he was surprised to find that the views on the test video he had uploaded were skyrocketing on Bilibili. Seeing the praise and encouragement left by so many players, he felt in that moment that all his hard work had been worth it.

At the end of the interview, I asked him curiously, “Did you ever think you’d win an award?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “I did think about it, but I never imagined I’d actually win. After all, for me, creating my first game is incredibly meaningful. Compared to other engines, Qingyou Dream Workshop is like a small path—it might not be perfect, but it helps you reach your goal the fastest."In the future, I dream of having my own game company, just like Youke, the studio behind Black Myth. That’s my dream—perhaps a small team of 20 people, all working toward the same goal and the same vision to build our own game world. To me, that’s a fascinating and truly great endeavor that I can devote myself to wholeheartedly."

Conclusion

Beneath these city walls, I saw people inside the city, people coming and going, and others still lingering outside—but without exception, they had all gathered here for the Qingyou Meng Gongfang Game Creation Contest.

As one of the competition’s judges, what I observed was not merely the level of polish in the entries themselves, but rather signs of an ecosystem quietly taking shape. The biting metaphors of *Animal Officer*, the delicate storytelling of *Dream of the Stone Meteor*, and the grand vision of *Voyager of the Void Sea*—at their core, each reflects the inner worlds the developers yearned to express.Of course, from a professional perspective, some entries still have room for growth in terms of gameplay refinement or technical implementation. Yet it is precisely this sense of “unfinished” quality that allows us to glimpse the future of this ecosystem—one that is still growing, still exploring, and still has vast space to continue sprouting.

This growth is inextricably linked to the long-term strategy that Qingyou Dream Studio has consistently pursued. Rather than chasing short-term results, the editor team has clearly chosen to take a “slow and steady” approach: continuously investing in tool iterations, optimizing AI workflows, and expanding the resource ecosystem—all to ensure that even newcomers without a technical background can truly take their first steps and grow alongside these developers.

It suddenly occurred to me that last year I interviewed a developer who said something that has stayed with me ever since: “Life is like a vast wilderness, and in the darkness, each of us pursues those scattered stars called ‘dreams.’”And now, amidst this siege, I am delighted to see that Qingyou Dream Workshop is walking side by side with countless creators who carry sparks of hope within them. Their passion and perseverance will eventually converge into a light that illuminates this wilderness.