Exactly one month ago, towards the end of summer, I looked at my website and realized something was off. The page was filled with words like "we", "our team", "studio." As if I were running some big corporate operation with a large team. But the reality was completely different: I was just one person trying to make games at home, late at night, fueled by coffee.
In this post, I want to share what I've experienced over the past year, how I went through a transformation, and why I decided to stop being a "studio" and just be myself.
The Beginning: A Leap in the Dark
It all started in July 2024, when I left behind my 17-year white-collar career. Actually, this wasn't really the beginning; it was more like the moment I finally found the courage to chase a dream I'd been postponing for far too long. When I officially announced Pixcodream in September 2024, I didn't know exactly what I was doing. I just had this fire burning inside me: I wanted to make games.
Pixcodream was born from the idea of gathering my individual game projects under one brand. Just like Film Deirmeni (The Film Mill), which I use for my film and animation projects. An umbrella, an identity. But at the start, I didn't quite know how to express this. Maybe deep down, I felt pressure to "look serious." After all, the game industry is all about studios, publishers, teams... How would a single person appear among these giant gears?
Back then, I lacked technical knowledge. Programming, 3D modeling, animation... It was all foreign to me. But right at that moment, the AI revolution was beginning. And I rode that wave, learning and experimenting as I went.
A Tiny Space Adventure: A Six-Month Journey
The six months from fall 2024 to February 2025 were among the most intense periods of my life. During the day, I took care of my daughter. At night, I'd put on my cape (metaphorically, of course) and dive into game development. Sleep? Well, it didn't seem that valuable at the time.
The story of A Tiny Space Adventure was very special to me. It was born from my son Doruk's imagination. A tale of a little boy searching for his lost sister in space... Writing it, shaping it together with him, and finally turning it into a game was an incredibly emotional journey.
AI truly became like a "team member" during this process. Visuals, music, some coding problems... It helped me with everything. But this "convenience" also brought an unexpected storm.
Criticism and Lessons Learned
When I published the game on Steam in February 2025, I felt a mix of great excitement and a little fear. I had clearly stated on every platform: "This game uses AI-assisted visuals." I wanted to be transparent. Because I knew that if I had enough time and equipment, I would have drawn everything by hand. But at that moment, it wasn't possible.
The visuals were appreciated. The story was appreciated. But questions started coming: "Why did you use AI?", "Didn't you support real artists?", "Is this ethical?"
These questions were hurtful. They made me feel like I'd committed a crime. But I was just someone trying to create my dream game with limited resources. How was I supposed to learn to animate characters, design scenes, and compose music all by myself? Nobody asked "don't you have a studio?", but the question "why did you use AI?" kept coming.
One day, I saw a streamer on YouTube playing my game. They were playing with their kids, laughing, trying to predict moments in the story. I watched that video with Doruk. When I saw the sparkle in his eyes, all the criticism faded away for a moment. This was real success for me.
Facing Reality
Honestly, the game wasn't as commercially successful as I'd hoped. Sales on Steam were slow. There was almost no movement on the Microsoft Store. A small community formed on itch.io, but that was it.
I thought a lot about the reasons:
- Renpy-style visual novel games have quite a niche audience
- Targeting 7-12 year olds is challenging from a marketing perspective
- The game could have had more and varied puzzles
- I had no idea about marketing
But in the end, the game was out there. The sparkle in my son's eyes was real. And I had learned something.
Website: Identity Crisis and Rebirth
In mid-2025, I looked at my website one day and felt alienated. "We are passionate", "Our studio", "We believe"... Who is this "we"? I was alone. Working late at night, taking care of kids during the day, chasing my dreams. Why was I trying to hide this?
I started looking at other independent game developers' websites. Terry Cavanagh, Arvi "Hempuli" Teikari, Tom Francis, Nicky Case... They all said "I". They all told their own stories. Not corporate, but personal. Authentic.
That's when I decided: Pixcodream wasn't a studio, it was my game-making journey. And I should celebrate this instead of hiding it.
The Power of Being Individual
Saying "I" instead of "we" felt scary at first. As if I would appear smaller, less significant. But the opposite happened. When I said "I work alone," people found it more genuine, wanted to hear my story, celebrated my successes more, and were more forgiving of my mistakes.
Being solo wasn't a shortcoming; it was a story. And everyone has their own unique story.
Also, my connection with the community grew stronger. I met game developers on LinkedIn, asked questions, got ideas, shared experiences. If I had been "a studio," I probably couldn't have been this authentic.
Looking to the Future
I have plans for the coming year, but I won't go into too much detail. Because game development is a journey full of unexpected turns. But I can say this:
- A new game I'm working on (too early to say more)
- Mini-games on the website; small experiences visitors can play directly
- More stories; I'll continue storytelling in my games
- Community; I want to listen to you more, share more
I also have a crazy dream: Maybe someday, maybe in a few years, taking this to a more professional level in another country (I'm researching Estonia). But for that, I first need to have a really strong game in my hands. I'm aware of that.
Final Words
If you've read this far, thank you. Really.
Pixcodream isn't a studio. It's a dream. My dream. Pixel-code-dream. (Yes, that's what the name means)
Thank you for being part of this journey, for playing my games, for your feedback. My successes are more meaningful with you, my mistakes more instructive with you.
If you want to get in touch with me, visit the new design on my website. Maybe play a mini-game, maybe leave a message.
After all, life is a game too, isn't it? Insert Coin to Continue...
Erhan
Pixcodream - Solo Game Developer
P.S. I want to thank my son Doruk. Without his imagination, A Tiny Space Adventure wouldn't exist. And that moment we watched that YouTube video together reminded me why I do this.