>Say a new game designer enters the industry, fresh out of school. They take a job at one of Japan’s established game companies like Capcom or Sony, get a couple lucky breaks and become a producer on one of the company’s smaller games.
>The company, like many in Japan, is big on promoting a face behind each of its games. So it starts to set up photo shoots for them, crafting their hairstyle and outfits to make them stand out. It places them in interviews with magazines like Weekly Famitsu. It sets up public skits and silly promotional videos, making them into an entertainer as much as a game developer.
>This helps the company, many say, since it gives players someone to identify with when they’re thinking of which games to buy. It also helps the designer, since it builds up their public profile and gives them a bit of fame to negotiate with.
>So they use that fame, and after working on a sequel or two, they move over to a bigger franchise or build something from scratch. It takes off. People start to call them a visionary. They travel around the world, becoming known as not only a developer, but an ambassador for their employer.
>While all this is happening, they start to gain more influence internally. Their days become less collaborative and more top-down, with those around them constantly looking for direction and feedback.
>A few years pass, and they move into a management role at the company, as is a common career path. People still talk about them, despite their work being less hands-on, and they get a credit on every game the company ships. They appear on stage during formal award presentations. In the public eye, they become game industry royalty.
