Game budgets keep swelling, competition keeps tightening, and the industry keeps reaching for the same playbook: sequels, proven franchises, and remakes that feel “safe.” But according to Rami Ismail, the cofounder of Vlambeer and producer of Nuclear Throne, that “safety-first” reflex might be the biggest danger of all. Speaking at this year’s DevGAMM Madeira Games Summit in a workgroup titled “We’re moving fast and losing what made us good (creativity, craft & the future),” Ismail framed a blunt thesis: the games industry’s fear of risk is currently the largest risk it faces.

That conclusion came from a group discussion about how to put creativity back at the heart of game development and game financing. The workgroup was explicitly cross-industry, pulling together people from various corners of the games business to examine why output has skewed toward “check all the boxes” projects. Ismail’s point was that fear does not just make teams cautious. It actively reshapes the creative process. In funding, publishing, marketing, and investment, he said, “many of the more fearful reflexes of the industry aim to sand down the rough edges of creative work,” producing works that are homogenous and bland but also “insincere, uninspiring and uninterested.” Then he sharpened it into a line meant to stick: “Courage is a consistent factor of most hit titles.”

If you run a studio, invest in games, or sit on a board, you know how this shows up in real life. When the dominant underwriting mindset is “avoid downside,” creative risk becomes something to be minimized, not explored. Budgets get built around predictability, and teams get rewarded for meeting process and milestones rather than for making the kinds of creative calls that can only be justified by taste, craft, and conviction. Ismail and the workgroup argued that this approach can create a paradox: by trying to prevent failure, the industry may be increasing the odds of missing what actually resonates.

The workgroup backed the claim with recent examples. They pointed to success stories including Peak, Balatro, and Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, describing how those games’ success was driven by the personal beliefs and tastes of the people making them, rather than chasing trends or relying on market analysis. That’s an important nuance for anyone using “data” to guide creative strategy. The message here is not “ignore research.” It is that the final ingredient in major hits often comes from humans making real decisions, not spreadsheets predicting demand.

There was also a harder operational implication: avoiding fear-driven development may mean ending projects earlier. The group noted that stopping a fundamentally bad idea is difficult, but doing it early can prevent sinking multiple years and millions of dollars into something that never had a real chance. This is not just creative philosophy. It is a capital allocation strategy. In games, the cost of “late regret” is enormous, because production pipelines are long, staffing is lumpy, and the opportunity cost of tying up resources with a failing concept compounds quickly.

To illustrate what the industry can look like when it refuses to learn quickly, the workgroup referenced Sony’s “ill-conceived live-service strategy.” The article notes that Sony has spent the best part of a generation chasing a whole raft of live-service titles, most of which have failed to emerge. Whether you view that as a product lesson, a business model lesson, or a portfolio lesson, the governance takeaway is straightforward: persistence can become a risk when it substitutes for honest feedback loops.

This matters even more because the industry is already in a moment where “safety” has consequences. The source points to videogame budgets ballooning and competition intensifying, pushing publishers toward safer bets like sequels and remakes. It also mentions that Xbox has said it is falling back on this strategy to increase its fortune, committing to big names like Halo, Fallout, and The Elder Scrolls. The same context notes that this strategy has also included laying off thousands of people and cutting ties with numerous game studios, and that Xbox’s worst quarter in years has followed.

For decision-makers, the stakes are clear. If your board’s tolerance for creative variance is shrinking, you may end up with fewer genuinely compelling games, more expensive churn, and a portfolio that looks “consistent” on paper while failing to create breakthrough value in practice. Ismail’s core warning is that fear of risk can sand down the creative edges that produce hits, and that the biggest risk is not trying the new thing. It is building a system that quietly prevents the new thing from ever being made.