The Game Developers Conference 2025
The view from the top of the Moscone Conference Center, San Francisco
“I am a sponge.”
After nearly 14 hours of traveling, I finally made it from my home in Maine to the bustling city of San Francisco. My desire to finally see the west coast of the United States wasn’t the only reason for my arrival; in fact, I was there for the Game Developers Conference: the go-to conference for anyone trying to navigate the gaming industry, boasting around 30,000 attendees spread across 5 days and 3 buildings.
My hands froze under the constant drizzle of rain while I clung to my phone anxiously. I was exhausted, and I had two lyft drivers cancel on me before the third arrived. I was too tired to make conversation. I just watched the city under the light of the cars that zoomed past us. It was my first time on a plane since COVID and the longest trip I had made since going to Ireland 8 years ago. Despite being a published writer and having launched a game before, I had a terrible sense of imposter syndrome. Who was I to be here?
“I need you to be a sponge,” my therapist said to me. “Just soak up the experience, keep an open-mind, and see what you can learn from it.”
The expo hall, featuring award-nominated and winning independent games
I spent many days being a sponge when I travelled across the state of Maine and as far as Europe to explore my archaeological studies. I was a sponge when I left my last job and pursued my writing. Being a sponge was familiar; California was not.
Yet, when I stood in front of the conference center, the warmth of the California morning sun felt as familiar as the Maine one. Everything was as simple as the swinging of the glass doors beneath the brightly colored banners. Every footstep was a commitment to my own curiosity, punctuated by the clicking of my boots against the tiled floor.
When learning is the objective, there is no chance for failure. The shackles of expectation shattered, and I was free.
I have always been particularly adept at identifying opportunities, and my flow carried my body towards them before any anxious thought could intercede. My gaze was active, recognizing names and faces from LinkedIn and studio names on sweatshirts. My ears were alert, listening for keywords like writing, narrative, and RPGs. My heart was open, as I swiveled on my feet and said, “Excuse me. I’d love to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”
The request was only ever for a conversation. Sometimes we shared our favorite games or our creative goals, but my intention was only to ever learn more about them and their experience. As I continue to have conversations with people I met at the event, the intention is the same. I find that people often respond well when this is the case, and I almost always learn something new.
Myself with Actor Neil Newbon and Creative Director Steve Kniebihly
Throughout the week, I had conversations on the grass of the Yerba Buena garden, the floor of the conference center, the high top stools in a bar, the vinyl booth of a restaurant. I had conversations with composers, artists, writers, programmers, designers, and more. We walked the expo hall together, where dozens of award-nominated and award-winning independent games stretched beneath the city street.
One of my conversations led me to the GDC concert, which I hadn't given much thought to beforehand, but I was so glad that I went. A live orchestra performed pieces from popular game soundtracks and some well-known composers in the industry were present as well. I was surprised and absolutely giddy with excitement over the finale song being my absolute favorite song in one of my favorite games: Raphael’s Final Act in Baldur's Gate 3. Later that week, I would meet one of the game’s award-winning voice actors, Neil Newbon.
Clip from the GDC concert of Baldur’s Gate 3’s Raphael’s Final Act.
I was seeing a lot of people recommending specific goals for events like GDC. To talk to a specific number of recruiters or to make a specific number of connections. My goal was being a sponge. I started my week worried that my goal wasn’t specific enough, but I ended the week knowing it was perfect for me. After countless conversations, I could see the connecting thread. We all just wanted to engage in a fun and creative space. I didn’t feel like an imposter anymore. I felt like I belonged.
Leaving San Francisco behind was bittersweet. I will miss the opportunities that were presented to me there, but I know I will find more opportunities as I continue to commit to being curious, to being open, and to being a sponge.