In the wake of devastating layoffs, a group of former ZeniMax Online developers is rising from the ashes to forge their own path in the gaming industry. But here's where it gets controversial: Is this a story of resilience and innovation, or a stark reminder of the precarious nature of the gaming world? Let’s dive in.
In July 2025, Quentin Cobb, the principal gameplay designer at ZeniMax Online Studios, found himself among the thousands laid off during Microsoft’s sweeping cuts across its gaming division. Like many others, Cobb struggled to find another role in a job market that had grown increasingly hostile. So, he made a bold decision: “Why don’t I make my own game?” he recalls. By December 2025, Ironroot Games was born—a new independent studio staffed entirely by veteran AAA developers who had been laid off. Cobb now serves as CEO and creative director, determined to turn adversity into opportunity.
Ironroot isn’t alone in this endeavor. Another studio, Sackbird Studios, emerged in October 2025, founded by former ZeniMax Online developers who worked on The Elder Scrolls Online and the canceled Project Blackbird. But here’s the part most people miss: These studios aren’t just about survival; they’re about reimagining what game development can be. Cobb and Sackbird co-founder Doug Carroll have been sharing advice and support, while ZeniMax Online founder Matt Firor has offered informal guidance. “He’s been very encouraging and super helpful,” Cobb notes.
This trend isn’t new, though. Over the past four years, the gaming industry has seen a wave of layoffs, particularly in the AAA sector, leaving even experienced developers struggling to find work. The natural response? Going indie. Studios like Airlock Games, Last Arrow, and Giant Skull have sprung up, led by AAA veterans seeking creative freedom. But is this a sustainable solution, or just a temporary bandage on a deeper industry wound?
The environment for new studios is undeniably harsh. The industry faces a funding crisis and a discoverability challenge, with countless games vying for attention each year. Yet, there’s a silver lining: the rise of mid-priced and indie games like Clair Obscur and Peak proves that original ideas can still break through. But here’s the question: Can these smaller studios truly compete in a market dominated by AAA giants?
For Ironroot Games, the focus is on collaboration and creativity. “We’re exploring things we’d never be able to in AAA,” explains Elaine Gómez, principal gameplay designer and studio culture lead. Cobb echoes this sentiment, relishing the freedom to “creatively spread our wings” in a collaborative environment. “You’re not just a cog in a machine,” Gómez adds. This people-first approach is at the heart of Ironroot’s philosophy, aiming to create a healthy, respectful workspace where everyone’s voice is valued.
But here’s where it gets even more controversial: Cobb plans to revolutionize the studio’s payment structure, advocating for full financial transparency and revenue sharing. “The people who make the game should earn the money the game makes,” he asserts. While this sounds idealistic, it raises questions about scalability and practicality in an industry where profit margins are razor-thin.
Ironroot’s first project remains under wraps, described only as a “personal” indie game with a small budget. “We’re aware of the budgetary challenges,” Cobb admits. The studio operates part-time, with contributors paid based on their work’s scope or on a deferred basis. Gómez, who also leads Midnight Hour Games, dedicates 10–15 hours weekly to Ironroot, acknowledging the team’s ebb and flow as members balance other commitments. Is this a sustainable model, or a recipe for burnout?
Despite the challenges, Ironroot’s founders remain optimistic. They’re not just building a studio; they’re creating a community where developers feel valued and heard. But before any of that can happen, they need funding. “Trying to fundraise in this environment is super challenging,” Cobb admits. And this is the part most people miss: The struggle to balance artistic vision with financial viability is a tightrope walk every developer faces.
The stories of Cobb and Gómez are a stark reminder of the industry’s volatility. Gómez recalls the “traumatizing” shutdown of Worlds Untold, while Cobb is still processing the cancellation of Project Blackbird. “You wrap your identity up into your work,” he reflects. “It’s tough for that to get flushed down the toilet.”
So, what’s the takeaway? Starting a new studio in today’s gaming landscape is undeniably difficult, but it’s also a testament to the resilience and creativity of developers. Is this the future of gaming—smaller, more collaborative studios prioritizing people over profits? Or is it just a temporary reaction to an industry in crisis? The answer may lie in the success of studios like Ironroot, but one thing is certain: the gaming world is changing, and these developers are at the forefront of that transformation. What do you think? Is this a movement worth supporting, or a risky gamble in an uncertain market? Let’s discuss in the comments.
