Why Small Indie Game Studio are the future :
The games industry spent roughly two decades chasing scale. Bigger teams, bigger budgets, bigger worlds. The result was a generation of massive productions that left very little room for creative risk, with thousands of people working on individual components of something so large that no single person could hold the whole vision in their head at once.
Alexandre Amancio has lived that reality firsthand. As a former creative director at Ubisoft, he worked on titles including Assassin’s Creed and Far Cry 2, and was part of teams that reached a thousand people. Now he runs Studio Ellipsis in Lisbon, Portugal, and he joined
Dan Long on the IndieGameBusiness podcast to talk about why he believes the future of games belongs to smaller teams, what that actually looks like in practice, and what developers building studios today need to get right from the start.
From Physics to Ubisoft:
Alexandre’s path into games was anything but direct. He started studying physics and assumed that his creative side would remain a hobby. That changed when Jurassic Park came out and he saw what CGI was capable of. The idea that a filmmaker could reconstruct extinct animals through synthetic environments that looked genuinely real was enough to convince him to leave his physics program and enroll in a 3D modeling course.
Getting into games from there was not straightforward either. Montreal had no games industry at the time, so he started his career building flight simulators for commercial and military clients. When Ubisoft eventually opened a studio in Montreal, he applied and was rejected. He landed instead at a small indie studio, and he credits that experience as the foundation of everything that came after.
At that small studio, he had to do everything. There was no division of labor narrow enough to confine him to one task. He did art, design, writing, and whatever else needed doing. That breadth of exposure opened up the possibility of creative direction in a way that a specialized role at a large studio never would have. Eventually he did make it to Ubisoft, where he art directed Far Cry 2 and went on to creative direction work on Assassin’s Creed Revelations before Assassin’s Creed Unity.
The contrast between those two environments shaped how he thinks about team size and creative output in ways that still inform how he runs Studio Ellipsis today.
Why the Industry Hit a Saturation Point:
To understand why Alexandre believes smaller teams represent the future, it helps to understand how he reads the last twenty years of the industry’s history. The games business grew from a niche into a dominant entertainment industry. That growth was real and substantial, but it came with a side effect: the practices that developed during a boom period got treated as permanent best practices even after the conditions that created them changed.
The response to growth was to get bigger. Games became more expensive. The more expensive they became, the less risk anyone was willing to take, because the stakes attached to each release were too high to gamble on something unproven. Studios returned repeatedly to formulas that had worked before. The result was a plateau where technically impressive, enormously ambitious games existed in abundance, but genuinely original experiences became rare.
Players noticed. There are games so large you could spend years inside them. But after enough of those, players started looking for something different, something that felt surprising and personal rather than optimized and familiar. Alexandre’s observation is that those original experiences are currently coming from smaller studios with less to lose, teams that can afford to try something unusual because a failure does not cost them hundreds of millions of dollars.
What a Team of a Thousand People Actually Feels Like:
Alexandre described his experience directing a game with a thousand people working on it, and the description is worth sitting with. His job at that scale felt less like creative direction and more like a stage magician running between spinning plates, catching whichever one was about to fall and giving it enough momentum to keep going before sprinting to the next.
The problem with that kind of work is not that the people involved are not talented. It is that at sufficient scale, a coherent creative vision becomes genuinely difficult to maintain. Work gets segmented. People own a piece of something and execute it well in isolation, but the connective tissue between those pieces, the sense that everything is part of a single unified thing, becomes harder and harder to preserve. The person who only animates fingers is very good at animating fingers, but may never fully understand how those fingers connect to the emotional experience the game is trying to create.
Smaller teams do not have that problem in the same way. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing. When something needs to get done and no one else is going to pick it up, the person who notices it tends to handle it. The game becomes a living thing built collectively rather than assembled from parts. That intimacy at the production level tends to create intimacy in the product itself.
Creative Constraint as a Design Tool:
One of the most practically useful ideas Alexandre shared is the concept of creative constraint, which he treats not as a limitation but as a deliberate design tool. He described it as defining the lens through which every decision in a game gets evaluated.
The specific form this takes can vary. It might be the player fantasy, the central experience the game is built around. It might be a single defining question: what is this game fundamentally about? Whatever form it takes, having that anchor matters because game development involves an enormous number of decisions made under conditions of constant change. Without a fixed reference point, even smart people with good instincts will get roughly half of those decisions wrong, simply because there are too many shifting variables to track without something to align toward.
With a clear creative constraint established, decisions become faster and more coherent. You hold each choice up to the lens and ask whether it fits. The decisions that do not fit get cut or reworked. The decisions that do fit reinforce the game’s identity. Over time, that coherence is what separates games that feel intentional from games that feel like a collection of features that never quite added up to something.
He was careful to say this does not require having every detail planned out in advance. The constraint is not a detailed design document. It is a high-level understanding of what the game is and what experience it is trying to create. Everything else can remain exploratory, as long as exploration keeps returning to that anchor.
How to Think About Game Festivals When You Are Just Starting Out:
A question came in during the live session from a small studio about to show their first game publicly. They asked whether it made more sense to start with smaller regional festivals to build credibility before approaching larger ones like IGF, or whether it was worth targeting the bigger events directly.
Alexandre’s answer was honest about the limits of general advice here: both approaches can work, and the right answer depends on the specific game, what the studio has to show, and what outcome they are trying to create. He has seen studios go the regional route and build momentum gradually. He has also seen studios go directly to a major festival and create real noise with their first appearance. Neither path is universally correct.
His actual recommendation was to trust your own instincts more than external frameworks. The developer who built the game knows the game better than anyone giving advice from the outside. The quiet internal voice that is already leaning toward one answer or the other is usually reading the situation more accurately than the louder voices of received wisdom about what the correct strategy should be.
What Alexandre Would Tell Developers Starting Out Today:
- Remember that you are making games for a living, and that means fun is not optional. When pressure builds, when money gets tight, when things are not going the way you expected, the developers who keep a connection to why they got into this work in the first place tend to navigate those periods better than those who lose it.
- Know your creative constraint before you go deep into production. You do not need to have every system mapped out. But you do need to know what your game is at a fundamental level, what experience it is creating and for whom. That clarity will protect you from a significant amount of rework and help your team make consistent decisions even when you are not in the room.
- Accept that exploring novelty means accepting iteration. If you are genuinely trying to create something that has not been done before, you will have to try things that do not work and redo things that seemed right but were not. That is not a failure of process. It is what the process of finding something new actually looks like. The goal is not to avoid that iteration but to use your creative constraint to make sure the iteration stays pointed in the right direction.
Want more insights like this?:
Join us for our IndieGameBusiness Deep Dive, taking place on May 27th from 9am – 5pm Eastern or hop into the IndieGameBusiness® Discord to connect with Alexandre and other industry pros.
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