Where Do People Who Leave the Gaming Industry Go?

The gaming industry is both romantic and ruthless.

It generously bestows upon people god-like creative abilities and generous rewards.Here, you can build mountains, rivers, and oceans out of nothing; use visuals and storytelling to convey a full range of emotions; and help lonely people find companionship through gameplay and interactive mechanics. You’ll also have the opportunity to earn salaries that are out of reach in most industries and gain the resonance and recognition of tens of millions of players.

Yet behind this gift lie inescapable constraints of reality. Endless, high-intensity work squeezes out daily life; creative ideals are constantly compromised for commercial gain; projects are shelved and industry shakeups happen without warning; and the ever-present pressure and uncertainty hang over the heads of every professional in the field.

As a result, people keep pouring into this “fortress” one after another, only to turn around and leave at different points along the way. The vast majority enter the industry brimming with passion, yet by the time they say goodbye, their circumstances are completely different.Some choose to let go voluntarily, cutting their losses before their passion is completely drained and escaping the quagmire of internal strife to rebuild their lives; others are forced to leave as projects are shut down, teams are laid off, and studios are dissolved—pushed off the table by the industry’s towering waves.

Recently, Tea House spoke with several industry professionals who have left the gaming sector to discuss their experiences and the choices they’ve made.

Egg Boss

Former founder of a casual game development team

Current Social Media Influencer

From when I entered the industry in 2012 until my team officially disbanded this year, I’ve worked in the gaming industry for 14 years.

In 2015, I founded my own studio and achieved some success in the casual gaming market. Notable titles include *The Old House in the Mountain Village*, which has accumulated 60 to 70 million users, and *Wang Lanmei’s Happy Life*, developed in collaboration with Ohayoo.Among these, *Wang Lanmei’s Happy Life* was a massive hit; it topped the Apple Free Chart for three days and generated cumulative revenue of nearly 100 million. However, after revenue sharing for this type of user-acquisition-driven product, the income that actually reached our development team was not much—only about 10 million, less than 20 million.

Our team was at its peak in 2021, when we expanded to nearly 90 members. However, that same year, new anti-addiction regulations took effect, dealing a severe blow to the IAA sector.Our team didn’t react quickly enough, and our revenue plummeted. Subsequently, neither the new products developed in continued collaboration with Ohayoo nor the several in-house IAP projects we developed performed well. With our cash reserves nearly depleted, we had no choice but to gradually downsize the team until we finally shut down operations completely this year.

After the studio shut down, I was left with nothing—no funds, no team—and I was even saddled with debt. I had to think about what I could do next.Then I saw quite a few examples of unemployed office workers setting up street stalls or running short-video channels. I thought to myself, “A ‘salaryman quitting his job to run a street stall’ is a naturally trending topic,” and since I used to be the founder of a game company, I wondered if this contrast in my background might attract even more attention. So I decided to give this combination of street vending and content creation a try.

As things stand, this type of content does indeed generate a positive response and strong metrics online. Currently, the income I earn from my Douyin short videos and live streams is enough to support myself. At this stage, I’m still focused primarily on building my following and haven’t fully rolled out commercialization yet, but I plan to gradually explore additional monetization channels such as product promotions and sponsored content in the future.

I believe the underlying logic of game development and content creation is actually identical, especially when it comes to IAA games, which also rely on traffic to survive. The entire methodology—from customer acquisition and retention to monetization—can be directly applied to content creation. However, when creating content, you have to be willing to let go of your pride; only by putting yourself out there can you achieve real success.

To be honest, this new venture isn’t easy.Every day, I have to make products for my stall, set up shop outdoors in all kinds of weather, and set aside a lot of time to shoot and edit short videos. But this has also made my life incredibly fulfilling. Watching my follower count gradually rise fills me with hope for the future, and I no longer feel the struggle and confusion I once did toward the end of my time in the gaming industry.

Li Chufan

A veteran of the gaming industry with over 20 years of experience

Independent Hypnosis Trainer in the Wellness Industry

I was born in 1981, so I’m one of the early pioneers in the gaming industry.

I started my career as a writer, publishing articles on gaming under the pen name Li Chufan in gaming media beginning around 1999. I worked successively at Game King, NetEase Games, and TOM Games.In 2007, I joined Perfect World, transitioning from media to marketing; then, around 2011, I joined Sohu Changyou.

After getting married and having children, the pressure became a bit much, so I decided to strike out on my own and start a marketing firm that exclusively served gaming companies—that’s how I made my first fortune. However, my subsequent ventures weren’t very successful, and I shut down my last company three months before the pandemic hit, effectively marking my departure from the gaming industry.

To be honest, leaving the gaming industry wasn’t my own decision. I was pushed out of the industry—it was a forced exit. There was a time when I thought I’d spend my entire career in the gaming industry.

I entered this industry when I was 18 or 19. I’ve been here since the era of single-player games and the wave of Korean MMOs, and later went on to experience the entire evolution from PC games to browser games and finally to the mobile gaming era.For over twenty years, I’ve been right in the thick of the industry’s ups and downs. So my lack of success in the gaming industry is definitely not due to external circumstances. Of course, I don’t think it’s a matter of my own abilities either.

Where does the problem lie? It lies in perception and personality.

In terms of my mindset, there were some critical junctures I didn’t fully grasp—I hesitated when I should have pivoted, and clung to the status quo when I should have switched tracks. As for my personality, I have a lot of rough edges that don’t fit well in the workplace: for example, I’m willing to trust others and tend to do so easily, and I don’t hide my disdain for people I look down on. That’s why I have a lot of friends, but also quite a few people who dislike me, haha.So, I’m actually not very good at handling complex workplace relationships, which is why I eventually decided to start my own business. (Of course, I’m not cut out to be a boss either, hahaha.)

In terms of choices, I’ve also made some decisions that, in hindsight, weren’t very wise. All these factors combined have prevented me from ever truly “making it.”

Fortunately, I eventually found a path that suited me better.

When it comes to my decision to enter the healing industry, there really wasn’t any far-sighted plan behind it—it was purely a series of twists of fate.

I often feel that I’m a very lucky person.Just as I stumbled into the gaming industry by accident, I entered the healing field in a completely unplanned way—some people I knew were taking hypnosis classes, and since it seemed fun, I decided to give it a try. To my surprise, it all clicked for me right there in the classroom; I suddenly understood how hypnosis works.After finishing the course, I leveraged my previous marketing experience to consistently attract new clients on Xiaohongshu. By the third month, I felt confident enough to teach hypnosis myself, so I started offering hypnosis courses—and I’ve been doing it ever since.

After more than two decades of working my way up in the gaming industry, I’ve unconsciously honed core competencies in content creation, user engagement, building trust, and managing the entire customer journey—from promotion and customer acquisition to conversion, delivery, and post-sale service. I learned all of this from the gaming industry and from my boss.So when I entered the wellness industry to provide hypnosis training, I did something many people found incredible: I single-handedly managed the entire process—from marketing to lead generation, conversion, delivery, and follow-up service—all on my own. I had no team and no funding; I relied solely on the foundation I’d built up during my years in the gaming industry.

In the three years since 2023, I’ve trained more than 120 hypnotherapists. That number isn’t huge, but it’s not small either—and every single one of them has truly graduated from my program.Looking back, I have neither an academic background in psychology nor am I a formally trained healing master. So what gave me the confidence to do this? Ultimately, it comes down to applying what I do best to a field that’s currently booming.

I’m very satisfied with my current life and work situation. The most obvious reason is that I don’t have to go to work with a grim face or have to walk on eggshells around anyone. I don’t have to get up early to commute, clock in, attend boring meetings, or deal with those draining workplace relationships. I manage my own time every day, and I’m completely in control of my life.

Furthermore, in my previous experiences in the workplace or as an entrepreneur, I felt there were areas where I fell short—for example, my love of expressing myself, my desire to be in the spotlight, and my strong sense of vanity. In a typical workplace, these traits might not be considered positive, but these so-called “shortcomings” have actually become strengths in my work as a hypnosis instructor.My love of expressing myself allows me to deliver engaging content in the classroom; my love of performing gives me the confidence to stand in front of an audience and showcase my skills and ideas; and my strong sense of pride drives me to set very high standards for the quality of my teaching, my professional image, and my brand’s reputation. These are no longer flaws—they have become my driving forces.

After all these years of twists and turns, and having gone through many ups and downs, I’ve finally found a path that I both love and excel at. This feeling of “doing the right thing” is more fulfilling than any title or income.

I know full well that this journey has only just begun, and I’m in no rush to prove anything. I’ll focus on what I’m good at, help those who are truly eager to learn, keep sharing my knowledge, and keep improving—and leave the rest to time. Let’s show everyone else that those of us from the gaming industry are top-notch!

Looking back, I feel nothing but nostalgia and gratitude for the gaming industry. More than twenty years—the best twenty years of my life were spent in the gaming industry. It was truly wonderful.

I miss the innocence of that era. Back then, at least within the circles I was part of, the gaming industry was a relatively simple and uncomplicated field. Most people entered the industry because they loved games and enjoyed playing them, not just to make money. We talked about design, gameplay, and the player experience—not just about making money. That kind of atmosphere is hard to find in many industries.

I am also grateful for everything this industry has given me—it provided me with my first career, the skills I need to make a living, twenty years of experience, and a group of friends whom I still cherish deeply. These are things that nothing can replace.

Qingyu

Former founder of Corn Game

Current health and wellness content creator

I started out as a game artist. I entered the gaming industry in 2008 and founded my own studio in 2014. I’ve worked on titles such as *Light the Torch*, *Lost Cube*, *Paper Girl*, and *Tap Frenzy*—they were well-received by the market, but at the cost of my health completely breaking down.

At the height of my workload, I didn’t take a single day off for three months. There was even one time when I was rushed to the hospital by an ambulance—I nearly died of a sudden cardiac arrest. I was diagnosed with severe anemia, and the condition of my spine and cervical vertebrae was poor.During that period, the company’s cash flow was also unstable; there were months when we couldn’t pay salaries because we hadn’t received payments in time. The pressure was immense, and my physical and mental health were in terrible shape, so I decided to disband the team and go home to recuperate. Just as my health was starting to recover, my father was admitted to the ICU. I stayed by his side for three months, but in the end, I had to say goodbye to him.

After going through all that, I didn’t feel like raising funds to start a business right away, so I worked at a well-known casual gaming company for two years. But to be honest, I’m not really that “business-savvy” at heart, so I never truly fit in. On top of that, I had severe anemia and just couldn’t keep up with the pace, so I quit.

After leaving my job, in order to address the root cause of my anemia, I had a hysterectomy and posted a video of my recovery—which unexpectedly went viral.

I’m someone who can’t sit still. During the year I spent focusing on my health, I spent every day either filming videos or studying for certifications, and along the way, I earned certifications as a nutritionist, health management specialist, psychological counselor, traditional Chinese medicine health management specialist, and family education counselor, among others.

The number of followers on my video channel has also been steadily rising. The series of videos I shared after my surgery resonated with and garnered support from a large number of women who’ve gone through similar experiences. Seeing more people find healing through my content and start new lives with a positive outlook gives me a great sense of accomplishment.

On top of that, I receive quite a few collaboration offers every day for post-surgery care products. These days, making videos not only gives me the freedom to set my own schedule but also provides a steady income. While it doesn’t compare to the peak salary I earned back in the gaming industry, I finally have the chance to reevaluate myself and see what value I still have when I’m “not working for someone else” and “not going to a job.”This process of self-discovery is also a pleasure for me.

If I continue on this path, this job will be more than enough to support my family and me. What’s more, it frees me from geographical constraints and gives me more free time—I can travel while creating videos, and I can also focus on wellness, reading, learning, caring for my pets, tending to my garden, and finding inner peace.

Of course, it’s still possible that I’ll return to the gaming industry, which is familiar to me. I still have ideas I’d like to bring to life, and if I find the right team, I’d be willing to start a new venture. For now, though, I’ve chosen to broaden my horizons by learning more about fields outside my industry to enrich myself and build my skills.

Does anyone here know traditional Chinese medicine?

It's been over two years since I left the gaming industry.

Actually, I ended up in this industry by accident. Back then, I didn’t get into high school, so I went to a vocational school to study graphic design. After graduating, I worked at a tile factory.Later, I went back north with my family and happened to discover that my cousin was doing game outsourcing work. Since I’d always been interested in 3D Max (though I now hate that software), I decided to stick around and start doing game outsourcing with my cousin.

I entered the industry at 19, became the project liaison manager at NetEase at 22, and was seconded to MiHaYou at 24 to work on art and visual effects—until I quit without another job lined up at 26. All in all, I spent a full seven years in the gaming industry.

I made the decision to leave mainly for three reasons: First, I was on a long-term assignment and wasn’t considered a permanent employee, so I had no path for promotion. To move up, I’d have to reapply through internal recruitment, competing against a large number of laid-off colleagues and energetic recent graduates—and I didn’t have much confidence in my chances;Second, there’s intense age-related pressure in the industry—that’s just how it is in the IT world. If you haven’t made it to team lead or mid-level management by age 35, you’re highly likely to be let go. Third, the pace of life in Shanghai is too fast, and on top of that, I didn’t have many friends there. The constant high-pressure environment left me in a terrible mental state; if I’d stayed any longer, I’m afraid I would’ve ended up at No. 600 Wanping South Road.

Since there are many doctors in my family, after much thought, I finally decided to return to my hometown of Huizhou to start from scratch and study traditional Chinese medicine—to heal myself before healing others. Two months after quitting my job, I registered for the entry-level Chinese herbalist certification exam. After three years of dedicated study, I’ll be able to obtain my certification next year.

Life is very fulfilling these days: I rarely get sick, and every day I dispense medicine and provide massage and physical therapy to patients—it leaves me feeling refreshed and invigorated.

As for whether I’ll return to the gaming industry in the future, I think I probably will—to offer my insights to my old colleagues.

The Soliloquy of a Passing Stranger

When the question was put before me, I even felt a little ashamed—compared to those who have been immersed in the gaming industry for years or have delved deeply into a particular field, I felt like someone who had been lingering outside the theater all along, able to do nothing more than listen to the laughter coming from inside and offer a faint smile in response.

I wouldn’t exactly call myself a true insider in the gaming industry, but I have indeed been in and out of this circle for quite some time. So, sharing a few thoughts on my own experiences shouldn’t be considered overstepping my bounds.

Stories always begin with innocence. It’s understandable for someone who loves playing games to turn their hobby into a career at a young age, when they’re still naive about the world.Even before leaving the TV station, I had begun exploring the possibility of building a career in gaming. However, the options available to someone without a technical background are limited. At that time, I had no skills other than creative work, so I could only take on roles in communications. Looking back now, it seems the story’s ending was foreshadowed right from the start.

Even so, I remain full of passion and hope that through my work, I can bring value to those who love games as much as I do—game recommendations, walkthroughs, reviews of new releases… This pure desire to share, along with the heartfelt resonance and emotions, marks the genuine beginning of a true dreamer’s journey.

Those early days of working in gaming media were always filled with fun and surprises.In an era dominated by text and image content, I was a content creator who consistently produced 3–4 viral posts with over 100,000 views each month. I even received numerous collaboration offers for social media posts, which allowed me to earn more than I ever imagined in a short period of time. This made me feel quite smug for a while, and I even believed that this was my future.

Until one day, during a team meeting, when I confidently reported that I had written several more articles with over 100,000 views that month, the expected applause didn’t come—instead, my manager’s eyebrows furrowed even more.That’s when I realized that the value of reach doesn’t always equate to actual value—an article with over 100,000 views doesn’t necessarily bring in 100,000 users. Once I came to terms with this reality, my tower of illusion began to crumble.

I began to feel “forced” to distort my writing style and stifle my thoughts, no longer writing what I loved, but instead writing what I felt I should write. This was torture for someone who loves video games, and it was also torture for someone who is passionate about expressing themselves through writing. For the first time, I truly understood that “when a hobby becomes a job, disaster strikes.”

I remember one type of content particularly well—things like “Why does such-and-such game have poor reviews but generate so much revenue?” It’s as if the fact that a game isn’t fun but is very profitable is something to boast about.In contrast, another type of content—such as “Why did a certain game receive critical acclaim but fail at the box office? Where exactly did it go wrong?”—makes it seem as though a game that’s fun but doesn’t make money is a classic cautionary tale.

This sense of disconnection often jolts me out of my thoughts, causing me to momentarily forget what the purpose of playing games actually is, how I should evaluate and convey a game’s features, and whether I actually approve of this game or should approve of it.

I realized that those so-called insights are sometimes nothing more than insincere words; I realized that those so-called objective analyses are sometimes nothing more than following a map blindly. Standing alone on a solitary island in the middle of the lake, I watched indifferently as the water rose to my eyebrows, and helplessly grew gills to breathe beneath the surface.Fortunately, drowning did not bring me numbness, but rather an awakening: in this vast ocean of survival, there are far too many suffocating things, and hobbies are among the few things that allow you to catch your breath. So I chose to leave, to return to purity.

It’s been five years since I left the gaming industry. I never considered myself deeply immersed in it, so naturally, I have no right to lecture those who are driven by pure passion for the field—even my departure from the industry seems to have been nothing more than a one-sided wish on my part.However, this experience has greatly shaped my outlook on life, enriched my understanding of the world, and allowed me to gain many friends who, though we walk different paths, share a common purpose—all of which are undoubtedly immense treasures. These trivial memories can hardly be called “experience”; they’re simply the “detours” of an ordinary person, but every step counts.

Fast-forward to the present: after leaving the gaming industry and going through a series of career changes, I’ve finally settled into the short-video industry, where I run a brand consulting firm that provides new media monetization services to businesses. It’s a fascinating field—I get to meet business owners from all walks of life and hear one interesting story after another.

Through frequent and in-depth interactions with these people, I’ve gradually come to feel that life is actually a highly customized game, and everyone is doing their best to “beat the game” in their own way. My life is more like a casual simulation game with a fresh, lighthearted art style—one in which I’m constantly striving for balance: between work and family, and between material and spiritual needs.I work hard during the day, go home after work to spend time with my wife and kids, play a few rounds of fast-paced, thrilling brawler games after the kids fall asleep, and go out for family outings on the weekends. There aren’t any dramatic ups and downs, but I’m able to fully experience the emotions of each moment—I suppose that’s what it truly means to “live in the moment.”If I have any aspirations for the future, it’s to keep things just this way~

Finally, I’d like to thank Game Teahouse and Xiao Zhu for giving me—a mere passerby—this opportunity to look back on the past. I hope Game Teahouse will become a spiritual haven in this era where all industry professionals can gather to relax and chat, accompanying the industry through its cycles!