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Create free accountI can think of many games that we enjoy, which could only be created professionally through tens of millions of dollars worth of focused talent and time. Many of these AAA games are works of art, on par with film, and that is great. But, that doesn't mean that that's the only way to make games. Today, we're going to talk about making games non-professionally. Also, this episode comes to you courtesy of Chris here. Say hello. People frequently lump all non-professionally made games together as indie games. Others reserve the label indie only for commercial endeavors with money invested and profits as a goal. And I'm not going to argue for using the word one way or another, but simply to avoid confusion here, let's use some different labels. Let's stick to words like hobby, personal, recreational, or non-professional games, because that's what I want to talk about today. Those private endeavors that were never made with profit as the driving goal. There are hundreds of thousands, maybe even
millions of personal game projects out there that you have never heard of. Due to their being made non-professionally, they're never advertised and are rarely in the running for press attention. With zero earnings expected, it's also often typical for little or no money to be spent on development. Because of this, the art and the sound are usually nothing fancy. Code may be buggy from hacks and lack of rigorous testing, and design possibilities are often limited by the severe lack of resources. So, these games don't impress, they earn no money, and you probably haven't heard of practically any of them. Although, there are rare exceptions which gain widespread awareness like Flappy Bird. How and why then are so many of these created? More importantly, why discuss hobby projects? Well, because they have a focus that we rarely see with major release games. They aren't made for me and you. They are made mainly for the people who created them and for their friends and family or classmates and co-workers to enjoy. And I won't try to
talk you into playing games that are made non-professionally for the same reason that I'm not going to recommend attending a local club sports event if you don't have family or friends involved in it. These things are often relatively unimpressive. You're not likely to come away from them feeling inspired. Local club sports, however, don't exist primarily to entertain spectators. They're for the players participating and for their close friends watching. I mean, an amateur athlete coming up to bat is not very interesting, but you coming up to bat or your best friend coming up to bat, that can be more of an emotional investment for you than watching professionals play at a higher level. Most recreational game development works the same way. It's meaningful to the people doing it and to the people who care about those people. It's not of interest to strangers, but it doesn't need to be. If you make your own non-professional games, they will be relevant to you and your peers in a different way than any multi-million dollar AAA game or commercial indie game could be. And this
type of development has a long-standing tradition. Non-professional video games made and played by friends predated the video game industry's birth. In 1962, when Steve Russell created Spacewar, the main source of updates and new features came from the same group of classmates that were playing it. As the code reached other campuses, student groups made their own modifications, adding mines and cloaking, tournament support, and more. Around the world today, more people than ever are making personal games with classmates, neighbors, family, and co-workers. In some cases, people experiment with putting ads in or giving it a $1 price tag in an online store. Mostly just to see if it turns out to be a winning lottery ticket like Flappy Bird was. The games made this way exist primarily for the benefit of the people who made it and close friends or family they share it with. Small games are being made non-professionally for school assignments, game jams, Valentine's Day, birthday gifts, marriage proposals, and just personal
amusement. Creating things is satisfying. Sometimes these games are part of a portfolio for the possibility of future professional work in commercial indie games or a diving into a studio career, but often they aren't. Here's the thing though, most people who play any given sport will never play that sport professionally. And just because they won't be pros someday doesn't mean that people think they failed or wasted their time playing that sport. But for too long, there's been a widespread feeling that if making a game doesn't turn profitable, then that game has failed or that it's somehow not legit. And that is hogwash. Much like playing a sport or for that matter learning an instrument, creating an art, dancing, doing photography, learning martial arts, it's fine to make games non-professionally. It doesn't need to be professional to be justified. You can do it simply to expand your world, build confidence and discipline, meet new people, explore a creative outlet, challenge yourself, pick up some new skills, and just enjoy life more fully.
So, here are a few tips for your journey if you decide to make games this way. First, if the game is not a serious professional effort, then keep your costs low. It's always tempting to throw money at these things with the hope that you'll earn it back, but it's pretty rare for that to happen at a non-professional level. Professional games cost a ton to make, but that expense represents a highly calculated risk. What might be a tiny budget for a professional game would be a recklessly large waste to burn on a non-professional game. And even for indies today, it often takes a budget in the tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars to compete. So, yeah, don't break the bank on personal projects. Second, keep your expectations modest. Even with access to today's incredible tools and engines like Unity or Unreal, there is still a tremendous difference between what you can make and what a large team of full-time professionals can make. Believe me, if it was possible for three people working part-time for 6
months to make a game like these, we would be doing that. So, it's okay to start small yourself. At the end of the day, this is supposed to be for you. It's supposed to be cathartic and a joy. You don't want to burn yourself out on a project you started out of love. Third, and this is the best part, have fun. Go nuts. You can be as bizarre or personal or local as you would like. You don't have a boss or investors or customers to appease. I know of a hobby game that stars the lead developer's cat. I know of another one that's a physics-based game about packing picnics. I know of another hobby game developer whose game sends his wife back in time to fight dinosaurs. She even did the voice-overs. People often incorrectly assume that having a bigger budget for a professional game increases creative freedom, but often the opposite effect happens. The more money gets spent, the less risk developers can afford to take on trying weird things. Again, big-budget games are highly calculated risks, and these devs have to play it
safe to improve their odds of paying off on the investment. But, when you've got nothing to lose and no funding source to answer to, the only limit is your imagination. Your personal game may not be cinematic or even all that pretty. It might not win many strangers as fans, but it can be about literally anything you want. That is a level of open-ended creative freedom that very few of the industry's most famous game designers can claim to have enjoyed. And even in those rare times where a famous designer does have total creative freedom, they still have to be aware that people's jobs are on the line if that game doesn't succeed. So, even though non-professional games don't get the same level of exposure and fame, they are often wonderful and worthwhile to create. And if you've been thinking about tinkering on your own project, know that there has never been a better time in history to jump right into doing it. It doesn't have to be a world-changing game to change the world of the people making it. See you next week.
Non-professional game development serves as a vital, often overlooked creative outlet that exists independently of the commercial pressures defining the mainstream industry. While AAA titles require massive budgets and calculated risks to ensure profitability, hobbyist projects are defined by their lack of commercial intent. These personal endeavors are typically created for the developer’s own satisfaction or for a small, intimate audience of friends, family, and peers. By removing the necessity for market success, non-professional development offers a level of creative freedom that is rarely accessible to professional designers, who must prioritize investor interests and audience appeal.
The history of game development is rooted in this non-professional spirit, dating back to early experiments like Spacewar, where collaborative modification among students drove innovation. Today, the accessibility of modern game engines has lowered the barrier to entry, allowing individuals to pursue development for personal amusement, educational purposes, or creative expression. Despite the common misconception that a project is a failure if it does not generate profit, the act of creating a game provides significant personal value, including skill acquisition, discipline, and the joy of artistic exploration.
To succeed in this space, developers are encouraged to maintain modest expectations and keep financial investments low to avoid the burnout associated with high-stakes commercial production. Because these games are not beholden to external stakeholders, they can explore niche, bizarre, or deeply personal themes that would be deemed too risky for large-scale studios. Ultimately, non-professional game development is a legitimate and rewarding pursuit that, while lacking the fame of commercial hits, offers a unique opportunity for individuals to expand their creative horizons and find personal fulfillment through the act of making.
Jason Schreier · 2026
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