The Chinese online gaming business is one of the world’s fastest-growing forms of interactive entertainment. Every year, the industry releases more than 200 new gaming titles. In China, certain successful video game characters have become cultural icons.

The sector continues to attract new enterprises as the market environment expands. China’s online gaming sector is rapidly catching up to that of South Korea and the United States.

Local media entrepreneurs are now developing games to satisfy local consumer demand, which is growing in this market. In the worldwide economy, the sector has evolved into a rival akin to online gaming media behemoths. China’s regional dominance — and the country’s rising impact on global events — has been the subject of a near-biblical torrent of publicity.

Take, for example, the Xinjiang cotton dispute, which saw global and Western merchants steadily withdraw from the region as more brands sought to avoid Xinjiang cotton owing to allegations of forced labor.

Brands, on the other hand, find it difficult to break free from these constraints; after all, many are afraid of losing access to a potential market of 1.4 billion people. Similarly, China’s regional domination can be seen in its massive gaming market, which currently has a whopping 325.4 million PC gamers, making it the world’s largest.

Even for an industry that prides itself on being staunchly apolitical — that is, until recently, most big developers avoided expressing any overtly political messages in their games — the global games industry has seen its fair share of contentious incidents, as China asserts its sovereignty over countries like Taiwan and Hong Kong.

These aren’t just ripples that spread across the business; they’re clashing waves that leave fractures in their wake. The infamous Blizzard controversy in 2019, in which the publisher banned Hong Kong esports player Blitzchung after he expressed support for the Hong Kong protest during BlizzCon 2019, drew widespread condemnation from the industry.

“We can’t say anything that disobeys or dishonors them,” said Vincent, a Taiwanese developer who asked to remain anonymous to avoid consequences for speaking out on such sensitive topics. In fact, except for one developer, most Hong Kong and Taiwanese developers I’ve spoken to are hesitant to go on the record.

“We must either acknowledge Taiwan as a Chinese province or remain silent. It’s not the first time something like this has happened in the gaming industry. It may be seen in the firms that have been singled out for refusing to utilize cotton from Xinjiang.”

Then there are cases like the later removal of Cytus II, a music game developed by Taiwanese company Rayark Games, from mainland Chinese stores when mainland Chinese players discovered a pro-Hong Kong message encoded in morse code inside a song written by its music director Wilson Lam.

The song was only published to his personal Sound cloud account and isn’t included in Cytus II. In an attempt to deflect criticism from his Rayark colleagues, Lam publicly resigned from his position at the studio a few days later.

Rather than being the result of a Chinese government-imposed internal command, this event was discovered by mainland Chinese gamers themselves, a pattern that April (pseudonym), a Taiwanese developer, considered concerning.

“I believe this is a systemic problem in which they are censoring… the designer of a game — but not just the game’s content. Even if the information is withdrawn or people are forced to quit, it is not the Chinese government’s initiative; rather, it is the shadow of self-censorship that has created this “she continues.

Discussions about Taiwan’s political status are already contentious; one incident, April remembered, featured an eager player at a Shanghai games event who inquired if her studio’s game was a local one.

Recognizing their dangerous predicament, her teammates merely answered that they were from Taipei, only to have another player overhear the exchange and point out that their game is a local product, implying that Taiwan and China are inextricably linked.

Of course, the player-initiated backlash isn’t exclusive to the Chinese gaming community; it’s also common in the West. But what sets this apart is the cautious and curious attitude that Western and regional publishers have toward Taiwanese games.

This has been especially true since the outcry surrounding Red Candle Games’ horror title Devotion, which featured an unfavorable allusion to Chinese President Xi Jinping that was found by mainland Chinese gamers.

“We’ve spoken with three to five Chinese publishers, all of which publicly express their worries regarding Taiwanese games. So that’s a major thing for a lot of us “a Taiwanese coder named David (pseudonym).

In summary, as David stated, it’s an accessibility issue compounded by language hurdles, at least among Taiwanese studios: “Because not everyone can communicate in English with Western publishers, many independent companies must seek out local or Chinese-speaking publishers. Some of them are limited to speaking with only five [publishers], and they have never received a response from them.”

This implies that some Taiwanese and Hong Kong game creators would have to adapt and revise their games’ material for the Chinese market, particularly because Chinese publishers are more strict about content concerns in Taiwanese games.

This is all to comply with an enigmatic license approval procedure that even China’s largest studios, such as Tencent, have failed to master in the past, and which is riddled with unclear rules and ever-changing laws.

In summary, as David stated, it’s an accessibility issue compounded by language hurdles, at least among Taiwanese studios: “Because not everyone can communicate in English with Western publishers, many independent companies must seek out local or Chinese-speaking publishers. Some of them are limited to speaking with only five [publishers], and they have never received a response from them.”

This implies that some Taiwanese and Hong Kong game creators would have to adapt and revise their games’ material for the Chinese market, particularly because Chinese publishers are strict more about content concerns in Taiwanese games.

This is all to comply with an enigmatic license approval procedure that even China’s largest studios, such as Tencent, have failed to master in the past, and which is riddled with unclear rules and ever-changing laws.

At the same time, the recent launch of Steam China has further added to the uncertainty around licensing. Steam has been functioning in China in an unofficial capacity for some time, but many indie developers who rely on this grey version of Steam to sell their games in the nation are concerned that the official version’s release would cut off their access to the Chinese market.

Vincent emphasized the country’s popularity of games based on Chinese history and palace plays, a genre that has been progressively phased out as a result of the rules.

“Because these imperial-harem contending storylines [are believed to] have a detrimental influence on the viewer, we hardly see it now. This limitation has an impact on not just topic selection but also narrative “he stated “Consider the subject of crime.

It’s simple to anticipate the outcome if you’re a Chinese content creator or your major market is China: the police and government are always nice and will always prevail in the end. If not, this narrative must take place in a made-up universe.”

Adam (pseudonym), a Hong Kong independent developer who also freelances with gaming firms, was one of the developers that spoke with me. He spoke about a project he worked on that portrayed the tale of Taiwan’s history, and how his team was advised not to use yellow in their assets — a color associated with the Umbrella Movement, when yellow umbrellas became a powerful symbol of protest.

“The original piece of art featured some yellow scarves on hand, which were ordered to be replaced because, you know, there was that event in Hong Kong back in 2014,” he said. “Contents have been modified to avoid discussing that sensitive occurrence, such as yellow scarves on [their] arms or handkerchiefs,” says the author.

Many independent developers are already trying to make ends meet, so making modifications like these are time-consuming. “It would cost us time, money, and development work,” April stated, “since changing the game to delete one or another component of the game [may disrupt] the game flow.”

Even yet, April stated that her studio cannot afford to ignore the mainland Chinese market, which is presently her company’s second-largest income source. This decision goes down to the simple necessity of putting bread on the table, even if doing so compromises publication and artistic independence in the long run.

“We will not abandon the Chinese market since we are still a tiny studio trying to make ends meet,” April explains. “There is still a chance that we can exist for longer if we can break into the market.” “If we’re thinking about producing a game for the Chinese market, we’ll either self-censor or delete the plot, or try to modify it for a new China special version.”

We have a story in the game that we are attempting to get a license for, but the story there [contains elements of] government indoctrination… and we are already prepared to rip the story out and make it a basic rhythm game if the government reviewer says the story isn’t acceptable.

These changing rules also impact independent game creators in Southeast Asia, albeit to a lesser extent. Pendopo Studio’s MT Akbar, an Indonesian developer, expresses his concerns about how they may influence their development and income.

Rendezvous, a cyberpunk dystopian game in development by the company, may not comply with the criteria for getting a license due to its themes.

“Apart from broad political problems, we still don’t know what some of the prohibited items are. We’re being cautious in terms of development since we don’t want to ‘convey’ some issues too publicly, but the material is still in the game “Akbar declares.

“So, right now, the issue is more of a language barrier than a lack of connection, since I believe that many young people nowadays are unable to communicate in Chinese. Even though I speak Chinese at home every day, coming there is a different ball game, and speaking [in] all the game technical terminology is also different, so it took me a while to get used to the way they talk “, he explained.

He pointed out the many words used to refer to something as simple as potatoes, much less more technical phrases used in-game production, when discussing his studio’s flagship mobile title, Holy Potatoes. “All of this is something we’ll have to pick up along the road.”

However, some Hong Kong independent developers are unconcerned with the rules — not out of folly, but rather out of practicality and a desire to look outwards to the global games industry.

According to Johnson Siau, a Hong Kong-based developer who used to work in a local mobile games company, there are two types of developers in the region: those who see game production as a financial endeavor and others who see it as a creative outlet. The former, for example, seems unconcerned about these changes; to them, they are just another stumbling block to overcome.

“So, to me, it’s… for the older generation, I don’t believe it affected them much in the sense that they were already on the decrease, and they’ve been striving to adjust,” Siau explained.

“So this is yet another stumbling block for them… I believe they perceive it as another stumbling block on their way. I don’t believe they consider any current developments to be exceptional. They’re like, if they don’t find anything out, something will go wrong.”

These restrictions, he believes, will have a greater impact on the latter, younger generation; nevertheless, many of them are already accustomed to responding to the fast changes that regulate the regional and worldwide gaming industries.

“I don’t think they’re as concerned.” From what I understand, it’s simply that they were attempting to spread out everyone they approached. So it’s not only mainland China… it’s also Southeast Asia, Western Asia, and even portions of the United States. They were already attempting to broaden their appeal.

“To them, it’s like, sure, it’s a hassle, but it’s also not their primary source of money,” he added. “I don’t believe it bothers them too much,” says the author, “since they’re used to needing to adapt and shift so rapidly.”

“Because we are purely indie, I am more concerned about the business model that is very mainstream not only in China but almost everywhere — game development and publishing rely heavily on capital investment and buying traffic,” Mary (pseudonym), another Hong Kong-based developer, told me about the state of indie game development in Hong Kong.

The indie scene now is nothing like it was ten or fifteen years ago. Everyone has to play the Steam game, and as an arty label, we’re more worried about competing against huge studios in the US, China, and elsewhere, because they have far more power at every step of production and marketing.”

Rather than the complexities of China’s game-making rules, she believes that the local game production sector has greater difficulties, such as the fact that Hong Kong never truly had the infrastructure to support game creation in the first place.

“In general, I feel that the difficulties of creating games in Hong Kong are due to a lack of industrial infrastructure at this time. Unlike Taiwan and China, Hong Kong has never had even a small studio, let alone a large one like SoftStar [a AAA games company located in Taiwan] or Tencent.”

Other Hong Kong independent developers, such as Adam, are taking a more severe approach: they are refusing to cooperate with any teams with links to mainland China. The anti-extradition campaign that began in Hong Kong in 2019 was a watershed moment for him, he said, citing the first fatality that occurred during the demonstration.

Marco Leung Ling-Kit, a 35-year-old protester who died after falling 17 meters from scaffolding, was a watershed event for many Hong Kong demonstrators. Nonetheless, Adam was aware of the region’s reliance on the mainland Chinese market, and he recognized that this wasn’t a failsafe strategy.

“I avoided firms that… have a tight relationship with Chinese developers or funding.” “However, if they do, which I may or may not be aware of, I will be unable to avert it,” he stated. “Another piece of information that I may be able to share is that the firm for which I’ve been working has switched its focus from Taiwan to China.” And it’s self-evident, and it’s reasonable to assume that the Chinese market accounts for the vast bulk of their revenue.”

According to Siau and the Hong Kong developers, the largest impact from this entire mess will most likely be a brain drain, with Hong Kong talent leaving the nation to pursue their game creation aspirations. In reality, due to a lack of possibilities on home soil, some of them have already relocated abroad.

“I can imagine them going out of Hong Kong as a means to continue if their product is severely harmed by the recent developments,” Siau explained. “I can see them just moving out, especially between mainland China and Hong Kong… even before the entire political difficulties, and so forth, we didn’t have a lot of talent staying in Hong Kong.”In comparison to Hong Kong, the grass was usually greener virtually everywhere.”

At the end of the day, the developers I spoke with appeared wary of China’s growing political power in the area, perhaps even cornered by it. When I inquired if this would influence any plans he had, Adam just chuckled, his voice tinged with resignation.

He doesn’t see anything changing for at least a decade, implying that studios in this region can only “play by the rules” unless a larger market arises that is far more amenable to creative freedom.