The video-game industry's geek workforce has something to say to Hollywood actors: Get in line for your share of the industry's profits.
"I'll back (the actors) when game programmers and artists get residuals first," said Mark Long, co-CEO of independent game-development company Zombie Studios.
Based in Seattle, Long's 12-year-old company is behind such titles as America's Army and Shadow Ops: Red Mercury.
"(They're) nuts if they think they deserve residuals for a half-day of voice-over work," said Long. "A development team (might) slave away for two years to produce a title."
The Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists recently contacted members who have worked as game voice-over actors to request authorization of a labor stoppage against about 70 game publishers. The unions argue that actors who voice game characters should be entitled to a share of the industry's skyrocketing profits.
But the actors' demands have sparked renewed protest in tech circles that game workers deserve better treatment, too. If actors deserve residuals, the argument goes, then so do the people who write the code, build the characters and make things blow up.
Unlike the Hollywood practice of providing a cut of profits to actors whose onscreen work makes movies come alive, there is no standard of profit sharing in the gaming industry.
"Why should we pay actors royalties when programmers and artists don't (get any)?" asked game designer and programmer Ron Gilbert. "Hollywood is driven by the 'points' that everyone gets, (but) the games industry is not. It's a very different economic model."
Beyond profit sharing, many game workers say they have even more basic needs that have long gone unaddressed.
"Quality of life" issues have become an increasingly contentious matter for game-industry workers in the United States, as corporate profits rise in tandem with pressure to outsource labor overseas.
In November 2004, the International Game Developers Association issued an open letter to the gaming industry protesting "horrible working conditions" and calling for more "mature and responsible human resource and production practices."
A study conducted by the association in 2004 found that "crunch time" is common for game workers: Roughly 35 percent of respondents said they worked 65 to 80 hours a week. And according to the survey, a "crunch work week" for 13 percent of respondents totaled more than 80 hours. Nearly half of survey respondents reported that overtime was generally not compensated.
Some game workers have taken their complaints about working conditions to the courts. In July 2004, Electronic Arts animator Jamie Kirschenbaum filed a class-action lawsuit claiming that EA failed to comply with California labor laws requiring the company to pay its workers for overtime.
A widely circulated letter penned by a person identifying themselves as an "ea_spouse" detailed the subjective experience of crunch conditions.
"The stress is taking its toll," wrote ea_spouse in the now-infamous 2004 letter. "After a certain number of hours spent working the eyes start to lose focus; after a certain number of weeks with only one day off fatigue starts to accrue and accumulate exponentially. There is a reason why there are two days in a weekend -- bad things happen to one's physical, emotional and mental health if these days are cut short."
Another element in the present conflict between game publishers and Hollywood talent unions is that of hourly pay rates for voice-over artists. Currently, the standard fee is $275 per hour for voice sessions; SAG and AFTRA want more.
Those numbers may sound unfair to game-industry developers expected to work long hours under extreme pressure conditions to crank out code.
But voice-over artists don't have it easy, counter working actors like Wil Wheaton, who has voiced characters in games including Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and the forthcoming Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six title.
"Yeah -- $275 an hour would be a huge amount if actors did that kind of work several times a week," said Wheaton, "but the average, working-class actor is lucky to get four of those jobs a year."
Wheaton, a member of both unions as well as a former member of the SAG board and of the Television and Theatrical Negotiating Committee, voted to authorize the strike.
"It's unpleasant, but it's a necessary negotiating tool," Wheaton told Wired News.
Peter Babakitis of San Anselmo, California -- a freelance creative director who has worked on both game and conventional entertainment projects -- thinks the strike is a good idea. He argues that in the long run, a SAG/AFTRA labor stoppage could benefit game developers who are not represented by a union.
"What's wrong with profit participation by actors, musicians, artists, programmers and anyone else connected with a game title?" asked Babakitis. "The development of the unions in the film industry has allowed for a very prosperous business that has the stamina to continue exporting media to the rest of the world, unlike the game market, where we are importers.
"When gamers think that actors are out of line for asking points, then you are also preventing programmers, writers, level artists and everyone else from asking for participation," Babakitis told Wired News. "When actors get points, then perhaps programmers, artists and writers might not be that far behind -- and game production might suddenly become competitive internationally again."
Whether or not SAG and AFTRA get the profit-sharing agreements they demand, one outcome of the strike threat is clear: Game-industry workers are devoting renewed attention to the possibility of creating a union of their own.
Results of the talent unions' strike vote are expected to be tallied on June 7.
