Sometimes big egos are more than self-evident, but it’s not always easy to tell if someone has one just by speaking to him for a while. If he is decent at communicating with others, he usually knows how to hide his ego behind a veil of modesty. So if you meet someone at an industry function or an interview, and they seem very down-to-earth or thoughtfully self-critical, this shouldn’t be taken as an indication that they aren’t also in possession of a giant ego. The real test is when you have to get work done with him or by him: then, the truth is usually in plain view.

Japanese developers often seem more modest than Western developers, but this is a cultural artifact that shows up when their comments are translated literally. Orson Welles always signed out of his radio shows saying “I remain as always, obediently yours,” and while nobody complained that he was lying, everyone clearly understood that he was not obedient at all, nor was he anyone’s: the phrase itself was just a grandiloquent formality. In the same way, one of the cornerstones of Japanese tradition is modesty, such that it is built into the language. In Japanese one always assumes a certain self-deprecating idiom for talking about one’s own work, and a different, more respectful one for the work of others. It does not have to be sincere– it simply has to be used.

Why do we have such big egos? I think it's because we realize worlds, in both an artistic and technical sense. When a game is played, its world is brought to life, and the player, for most intents and purposes, exists there. Games allow us to build a world where the opinions we hold are irrefutably true, even though these issues in the real world may be up for confusing and frustrating debate: if we believe that working together is better than working alone, we can create worlds in which loners can never be as successful as those who work in organized groups. A player might feel powerful after he masters the game, but the developers are the ones who decide how to grant such power. In other words, we get to act something like gods.

I think we are driven by the same impetus that inspires men to architect buildings, write novels, put on plays and compose music, but game developers are the only ones who create works that regularly frustrate the ambitions of those who simply seek to experience our creations. And when our game is large and detailed, and thousands upon thousands of players throw themselves at our discretion, it is frighteningly easy to lose one’s head inside of it all. We look inward, and rarely elsewhere.

Lucky for us that the egotistical act of creation can be so profound.