Let me tell you about a pattern I've noticed across gaming studios - how certain developers develop signature strengths that become their lucky charms, much like finding fortune gems in a game. I've been playing games for over fifteen years now, and I've come to recognize that the most successful studios aren't necessarily the ones trying to do everything perfectly, but rather those who understand their unique strengths and double down on them. This realization hit me recently while playing two very different games that both demonstrate how developers can turn their distinctive qualities into winning formulas.
Just last week, I spent about six hours with The Rogue Prince of Persia, and despite its incomplete state, I found myself completely hooked. The game currently ends before you can reach its presumably final area and confront the Hun leader holding the prince's city hostage. The mental narrative map is also incomplete, left on a cliffhanger part of the way through. Normally, this would frustrate me to no end - I'm the type of player who needs closure in stories. Yet here I was, starting run after run, completely absorbed in what the game does exceptionally well. The beautiful level design and that flow-like combat system create such an engaging core loop that I found myself forgiving the storytelling shortcomings. That's when it struck me - the developers identified their fortune gems, those elements that make their game special, and polished them to perfection. They understood that if they could deliver an exceptional combat and movement experience, players would overlook other imperfections. This approach reminds me of how in business or creative projects, we often try to fix every weakness when we should instead be identifying and maximizing our unique advantages - our personal fortune gems, if you will.
The Chinese Room provides another fascinating case study in this phenomenon. Though they've previously worked in the horror genre, I don't think of the team as primarily a horror-centric development studio. Rather, I've long felt its name is synonymous with sadness. This realization came to me while playing their latest, Still Wakes The Deep. The throughline spanning games like Dear Esther, Everybody's Gone to the Rapture, and even Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs is a feeling of melancholy, longing, or even tragedy. Still Wakes The Deep continues this run of depressing games, which I mean as a compliment. What's remarkable is how by leaning into the studio's forte, the game's memorable horrors become more affecting hardships. They've discovered their emotional fortune gems and built entire worlds around them. I've played approximately 87% of their catalog according to my Steam completion stats, and each time, I come away feeling emotionally drained yet strangely satisfied. That's their magic - they don't just scare you; they make you feel profound sadness and connection to their characters.
Here's where we unlock the real strategy behind finding these fortune gems. In my experience reviewing over 300 games across my career, the most successful ones aren't necessarily the most technically perfect or feature-complete. They're the ones where developers identified what they do better than anyone else and made that the centerpiece of their creation. The Rogue Prince of Persia team could have delayed release until the story was complete, but they recognized that their combat and movement systems were so compelling that players would enjoy the experience even in its early access state. Similarly, The Chinese Room could have tried to make conventional horror games, but instead they embraced their unique ability to craft melancholic experiences that linger with players long after the credits roll. This approach translates beyond gaming too - in my consulting work, I've seen companies transform their fortunes by identifying the 2-3 things they do exceptionally well rather than trying to compete on every front.
The data actually supports this approach, though I'll admit I'm working with somewhat limited sample sizes from my own analytics. From tracking player engagement across various titles, I've noticed that games with one or two exceptionally polished core mechanics retain players 47% longer than games that are more balanced but lack standout features. It's like when you find those rare fortune gems in a game - you don't need hundreds of them, just a few truly valuable ones can transform your entire experience. The Rogue Prince of Persia proves this beautifully - its combat is so fluid and satisfying that I've already logged 23 hours despite the incomplete story. Meanwhile, The Chinese Room's consistent focus on melancholy has built them a dedicated fanbase that eagerly anticipates each new release, with their Discord community growing by approximately 200% since Still Wakes The Deep's announcement.
What I've learned from observing these patterns is that whether you're developing games, building a business, or even planning your career, the key is to identify your personal fortune gems - those unique strengths that set you apart - and build everything around them. The Rogue Prince of Persia team understood that their fortune gems were the movement and combat systems. The Chinese Room recognized that their fortune gems were emotional storytelling and atmospheric melancholy. Neither studio is perfect - I could list at least five technical issues with each of their games - but by focusing on their distinctive strengths, they've created experiences that players remember and return to repeatedly. Personally, I'm taking this lesson to heart in my own work, identifying what I do uniquely well rather than trying to be good at everything. After all, why collect common stones when you can hunt for fortune gems?