New Horizons

Two weeks ago, I parted ways with Ubisoft Singapore after nearly three years.

Two weeks ago, I parted ways with Ubisoft Singapore after nearly three years. Actually, let me be very clear, without mincing words: It was not my decision.

It happened approximately a week after the launch of Assassin’s Creed Black Flag Resynced, a project I had been assigned to last year to help push it over the finishing line. My mandate on said project had already come to an end at the start of this month, and I found myself moved to a temporary “limbo project”, one that many Ubi employees find themselves in after a project has shipped, while they await joining/being assigned to a new one.

During my time in this limbo existence, I quietly celebrated* having had the opportunity to contribute to the successful launch of a game in such an iconic game series, took courses to up-skill myself, got caught up on relevant GDC talks from the last two years, and started thinking about what my future at the company would look like, what kind of in-between-project initiatives I could join (or create), and how I could maybe prepare for the inevitable AI future that engulfs any and all game studios eventually.
* (as behooves an introvert)

However, on the fated day I was invited to a 1:1 with my manager shortly after lunch, in itself not an unusual occurrence. We engaged in some random chitchat along the way to a meeting room that, to my surprise, also featured two HR representatives, one of whom essentially informed me that my services would no longer be required by Ubisoft as it was time to part ways, effective immediately. I was asked to hand in my employee-badge, and after signing a few papers that said they’d pay out my notice period (which they did) and free me from the non-competition clause (which they also did) etc., I was surreptitiously* escorted from the premises, with a promise that the personal belongings on my desk would be sent to my home by courier (which they were).
* (what a cool word)

I wish I would have had the chance to say my goodbyes to colleagues I sat next to for the better part of 9 months on Black Flag and the ones I worked alongside for two years on Skull and Bones, or to send that usual “been great working with you all, thanks for all the fish, let’s connect on LinkedIn“-mail to let people know I did not just vanish silently into the night* like a ghost, but no dice. At least I ran into one of my (now former) colleagues/lunch-comrades on my way out of the building lobby, so I could give them a quick heads up about my departure.
*(or at least late afternoon)

A quick side note here to remind all of you, dear readers, to always keep your portfolios up to date. Don’t postpone it until later, don’t delay it until next week. Update it while it’s all fresh in your mind, while you have all the references to your work readily at hand.

Since then the days have been quite a blur, my sleep schedule has gotten messed up*, my thoughts have wandered all over the place, but gradually I’ve been coming to terms with what happened. To say I’ve been in a stupefied state of shock would be exaggerating, but at the very least I was left dumbfounded and disappointed, having received no prior indications that I was in the “danger zone”, and to my knowledge was on good terms with all of my colleagues, bosses and HR. Maybe I missed subtle signs that said otherwise.
* (I can game all night again! It’s just like the good old dayszzZzzZzzzZzz)

But oh well, life goes on! And as I can’t change the past (or so I’ve been told🤔), it’s now time to look to new horizons, update my resume, practice those job interview questions* and start looking around for other opportunities, assuming those are still a thing in this day and age of mass industry layoffs. Only one way to find out!
*(My greatest weakness? My dedication to perfection and also my bubble tea addiction. J/k, it’s not an addiction, I can stop anytime I want! I just don’t want to…)

Why Positive Feedback Matters

When was the last time you complimented someone on work well done? Or when did you last receive praise for work efforts you poured your soul into? Let me share a story from my earliest days as a designer about how positive feedback impacted my career.

We All Start Somewhere

In my first job in the game industry I started out as a data-entry monkey; an entry-level designer whose work involved setting up animation data, action triggers and events in a behavioral state machine to make characters and animated objects in the game come to life.

This was for the most part handled on demand as new characters and animations become ready for setup. No up-front design work was required, no extensive documentation needed to be written—we hooked stuff up on the fly, creating new character states, actions and transitions between states as and when needed, in some cases building up complex states to support new combat moves, quest cutscenes, AI behaviors, etc.

What Makes a Designer

Almost half a year into the job, I had still not written a single design document. The nature of the role I had simply did not require this of me—or even leave room for it. There were no design discussions or meetings to plan ahead, and there were no design reviews. As a result, even though I did the work of a designer, I did not feel like a designer, and I didn’t feel part of the wider design team.

This sentiment was echoed by some team members who, a few years into time there, even questioned—to my face—the necessity of my role, and whether it ever needed to exist in the first place. This did not do wonders for my self-confidence, as you can imagine. I was feeling undervalued and doubted myself, wondering whether I truly belonged.

However, what kept me going through all that was positive feedback I received for the quality of the work I had done, and for the design documents I had written—in particular the first one I ever wrote!

First Design Document

My first design document was short and simple, and detailed some improvements to an existing feature in the game. It outlined the benefits the improvements would bring to players and to the game, highlighted potential risks of doing them, broke down associated development costs, and provided suggestions for multiple different ways of getting it done.

I poured a lot of heart into the document, even though it was an obvious next step to take and an improvement that both players and devs could see coming from a mile away. So when I received positive feedback on the design from the design team and from higher-ups who reviewed designs, I was over the moon!

Fuel for Long-term Passion

It was a pivotal moment that cemented my future in the game industry, as it made me realize that I was already a game designer, and I did have some small amount of talent for it that went beyond just entering data in a glorified database.

Over time my role there evolved, and I took on more “traditional” design responsibilities, but none of that would have been possible if not for the positive feedback I received from people at multiple levels in the studio hierarchy. It did wonders for me as a budding designer, and it fueled my passion for years to come. Without it I would likely have burned out and left the industry entirely, like so many others I worked with back then. f.

Moral of the Story

Positive feedback can be a game-changer. If you work with someone – whether they’re your colleague, your subordinate or even your boss—acknowledge their good work; let them know! Your feedback might have a stronger impact than you think.

To Sail the High Seas

Today, I’m excited to announce (what is this, a press release? lol) that I’m embarking on a new adventure as Senior Game Designer at Ubisoft Singapore!

I am forever thankful for the opportunity Mighty Bear Games gave me, and for all the great people I had the privilege of working with (and learning from!) there over the past five years, but now it’s time for me to set sail into uncharted waters full of pirate ships, skulls and possibly also some bones!

Time to buy myself an eyepatch, and also a parrot costume for my cat. So she can sit on my shoulder and squawk. Yarr!