In game development, I have heard a recurring line from producers and managers:
“You’re not here to learn, you’re here to make games.”
At face value, this may sound like a call for focus and productivity. But in practice, it reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the craft. Game development is learning. To deny this is to deny the very process that keeps both people and projects alive.
Game development is not assembly-line work. It is a creative-technical discipline that demands constant adaptation. Every project brings new problems:
To pretend we can “just make games” without learning is to pretend these problems don’t exist. In reality, making and learning are inseparable. We make games by learning, and we learn by making games.
One of the least smart mindsets is believing you “already know everything.” That belief is not intelligence — it is fragility.
Knowledge is always partial:
Neither theory nor practice is the “golden egg.” Real growth comes from combining the two, and from admitting there is always more to learn.
At one studio, curiosity was treated as waste. Developers were told to stop asking why and just ship.
The outcome? Every game felt like a reskin. Morale dropped, innovation stalled, and players noticed the sameness.
In another studio, learning was part of the workflow. Time was set aside for “tech spikes” and experimentation.
When an animator struggled with blending, an engineer researched state machines, prototyped a new system, and shared it across the studio. A small learning exercise became a studio-wide improvement.
The result? Games that felt fresher, stronger systems, and a team motivated by curiosity rather than drained by repetition.
The industry moves fast. Engines deprecate features. Hardware generations change performance budgets. Players expect new experiences.
A team that does not learn falls behind — not in a decade, but in a year. Research supports this: organisations that foster continuous learning are more innovative, adaptive, and resilient (Garvin, Edmondson, & Gino, Harvard Business Review, 2008).
Rejecting learning is not efficiency. It is stagnation.
If you’re not thinking, you’re not evolving. If you’re not evolving, you’re not growing.
Game development demands growth because each game is different. The smartest teams are not the ones that “already know” — they are the ones willing to learn.
“You’re not here to learn” belongs to a production-line mentality that does not fit creative industries. In reality, learning is the work. The best games — and the best teams — are those that never stop growing.