Starting in 2018, game developers have participated in Manifesto Jam. A recurring game jam that doubles as an opportunity for indie makers and zinesters alike to get a few things off their chest. Needless to say that in 2026 there is no shortage of tough talks and hard truths to exhume. So far in its third outing, the most popular submissions are proving to be especially bitter pills for an independent artist to swallow.
“I’m sick of takeaways and I’m sick of talking around games and never dipping below the surface,” writes this year’s host cecile richard in the Manifesto Jam manifesto. “The manifesto, in my imagined alternative, is the ugly smear on the polished surfaces of conference keynotes, aspirational #bizdev posts and job-ready portfolio pieces. The manifesto is awkward, clunky, impractical, confronting, uncompromising, defiant: all qualifiers undesirable in an increasingly professionalised, corporatised game making ecosystem. These traits are what makes the manifesto beautiful.”
As of this writing, notable indie devs such as Rami Ismail, Robert Yang, droqen and Anna Anthropy have already uploaded their entries. richard’s own entry, Against Gratitude, takes umbrage at the algorithm and the humiliation rituals one will do to prune their own art for an imagined audience. The most popular manifestos so far take similarly hostile approaches to the magical thinking that surrounds game making and digital publishing models. Making the most rounds is Mike Cook’s NO-ONE IS GOING TO BUY YOUR GAME, a sufficient one-pager which posits that nothing is stifling the medium as much as the illusion of making a hit.
Not all the entries are about monetizing your hobbies. A number of entries this year attempt to pick apart the trend of calling anything “slop,” e.g. friendslop, qualityslop, and the contradictory nomenclature around the trend. Elsewhere, one of my favorites is a quick zine merely taking solace in the wisdoms of Coach McGuirk, Jon Benjamin’s surly soccer coach from Home Movies.
Manifesto Jam runs until June 14th. You have a day to mount your soap box and hiss some honesty to change the world. Not me though. I write for Kotaku. I can do that any weekend I want.