Stefan Yeung

I’ve heard inspiring stories from people who shifted careers into games development. But I wanted to tell a different story.
My story.

It’s been an incredibly difficult journey, and it’s still ongoing. I’m not great at sticking to things. I don’t know any other languages, I can’t play an instrument, and I’ve got an army of unpainted Warhammer miniatures gathering dust. But games development has always been my one constant.

I always knew I wanted to make games, but growing up without the internet, I had no clue how to start. I’ve been told that knowing what you want to do is a gift. Maybe it is for some people, but for me, it felt more like a curse.

16

I didn’t do very well at school, I always felt like what I was doing was pointless. I knew I wanted to make games, what did Of Mice and Men have to do with that? I would often get detention for not doing my homework, claiming I had simply forgotten (looking back it was probably selective memory). Instead, I spent all my time playing video games. I saved all my pocket money for the next video game, or video game magazine (if it had a demo disc).

When I finally finished school, I was excited to leave that place behind. Things could only get better. And they did for a while. At Newcastle College, studying ‘Media Production (Games),’ I met like-minded people and finally felt a sense of belonging. It was refreshing.

At college I studied a bit of everything. Game history, basic design, even Claymation. I wasn’t sure what my role in games would be. I loved the idea of designing the “perfect game,” but didn’t realise that could be a real job, so I thought I might end up in art, something I’d enjoyed since childhood through little drawing competitions with my brother.

One college module had us code a game in ActionScript using Macromedia Flash (long gone now). My friends and I shared code, tested each other’s projects, and that’s when it clicked, this was how games were made. And so, a programmer was born.

18

I finished my college degree with less than desirable results. Getting into University felt uncertain, but I learned my college offered a Foundation Degree in Games Development, so I took it.

It didn’t feel much different. Same rooms, same lecturers. It was comfortable. I was happy to stay in my comfort zone, but in hindsight, perhaps that wasn’t a good thing.

I fell into the same patterns of trying to make overly-ambitious games without really knowing what I was doing (Of course I thought I knew exactly what I was doing). My grades suffered, and I wasn’t able to get into the third final year. This was a massive shock; so far things had gone my way and I had been able to scrape by, but not this time.

Looking back, it worked out for the best. Skipping that final year meant I could get an additional year of student loans for when I went to University. What felt like a setback at the time became an unexpected advantage, and a reminder that sometimes life’s detours turn out to be the right path.

20

I went on holiday to Canada with my family that summer. I had expected to be preparing to go into my final year, but instead I had nothing. Surely all this free time meant I could finally make my own game? I began to feel more optimistic. But I fell into the same trap again, overscoping. I’ve since learned you should only aim to learn one or two new things per project, but back then I tried to do everything and finished nothing.

The two years that followed were rough. I applied for many games jobs, but every application ended in rejection. Eventually, I had no choice but to sign on for Jobseeker’s Allowance. I drifted through jobs that barely paid. Door-to-door sales, retail, factory shifts. The long hours and constant setbacks drained me, and for the first time I lost my motivation for games.

I knew I had to take action. I applied for University, determined to get back into games development.

22

My application to study Computer Games Programming at Northumbria University was approved, and this time I was going to keep my head down and do the work. I didn’t want to go back to how things were before. I threw myself into the work, spending most nights on coursework.

I was especially excited to finally learn the elusive C++, and by the end of my first year I had achieved a First, a stark contrast to my previous track record. That summer, we were tasked with creating a game in a simple C++ engine. Struggling with level creation, I decided to build a level editor to support my project. It was a lot of work, but when presentations came around, I was proud to have a game to show for it.

24

For my third year, I took a placement at a local indie studio. For the first time, I was making games professionally, turning years of learning and practice into real projects. From day one we were working on a brand new Unity project, Wacky Wings. Later moving on to Henry the Hamster Handler. Both games launched together before we shifted focus to a larger VR project, Dimension Hunter.

It was here that I learnt the importance of Quality Assurance. Addressing issues and bugs sharpened my problem-solving skills and reinforced the value of polish in a professional project. By the end of it, I felt a sense of satisfaction seeing the games live on Steam, the very place where I had spent so much of my own time playing games.

25

Returning for my fourth and final year felt strange. With the exception of one person, my classes were filled with people I didn’t know. Despite this, some modules stood out, including one where we had to create a game in a small team.

I graduated with a 1st and had three released games under my belt. It’s fair to say I was pretty pleased. I felt unstoppable.

26

Something stopped me. I thought things would be straightforward, but more job rejections threw me off. With experience shipping games and ideas of my own, I decided to make my own project.

I aimed for a small PC game, but I didn’t fully know what the levels should look like, and it was commonly mistaken for a mobile game. The project ceased. I needed money, so I took a programming job with a previous employer. It wasn’t game development, but it kept me coding.

I learned a lot about optimisation during my time there, but I wanted to make games. I started my own company, Cyborg Kitten Studios, and began work on ‘Flea the Cat.’ One sleepless night, I turned an idea into a playable prototype.

Over time, financial stress forced me to step back, but around this time a former university teammate offered me a freelance contract. Over the next few months, I worked on ‘Samsara’ and other projects, keeping my game development journey alive.

29

I eventually joined INFINITY 27 full-time, leaving freelance for some routine in my chaotic life. It became my longest running job by far. Some time after, our lead programmer left. I stepped up to help co-ordinate a team of mostly programmers.

I’m still on this journey. I don’t have everything figured out, and I don’t think anyone really does, but I’m making games, learning every day, and doing the thing I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. That in itself feels like an achievement.

33

Looking back, it’s been a rough journey, full of setbacks and rejection. But sometimes, what feels like a failure is really a blessing in disguise, another chance. Not just a second chance, because you may need many. And as long as you keep trying, you haven’t failed.