The Music Man
Dan Sullivan ’77 uses his engineering powers to make life more melodic.
Read StoryKate Olguin ’20 reaches the next level in video game design.
Almost half a century before Mario and Luigi became the world’s most famous plumbers, the Dutch historian Johan Huizinga explored the power of games to create new realities. “Inside the circle of the game, the laws and customs of ordinary life no longer count,” he wrote in his 1938 work Homo Ludens. “[In games] we are different and do different things.”
Game designer Kate Olguin ’20 sees that same magic at work every day in modern video games. “Games transport you to another world, with a new environment you can walk around in and interact with,” they say. “Even the rules you’re following don’t exist in reality. You can be anything.” Since discovering a passion for gaming as a child, Olguin has evolved from an explorer of digital worlds to a creator of them—and in so doing, has become a prominent voice in an industry that redefines how we experience stories, play, and imagination itself.
Olguin’s path to game development began in the arts, not in computer science. “I’ve always loved stories,” they explain. “The feeling of being transported to another world full of new experiences and environments is huge to me.” This love for storytelling drove Olguin to more traditional arts as a high school student. “I was an art kid. I played cello in the orchestra, did chorus and the school musicals—all of that,” they say. Although Olguin found creative fulfillment in these traditional means of storytelling, hours spent playing Pokémon and Zelda on their Game Boy Color revealed something unique to video games: the power of interactive narratives.
What set games apart for Olguin was their ability to immerse the player in a new world. “Imagine watching a movie like Star Wars, but when you turn your head, you can fully experience the characters and the environment they’re in,” says Olguin. While other media allowed Olguin to be an observer of stories, video games offered the chance to be an active participant in crafting the narrative.
This immersive quality helps explain why games have become one of the world’s most popular forms of entertainment, though Olguin notes that many still misunderstand the medium’s scope. “Games get a really bad rap because people think they’re mostly Grand Theft Auto or Call of Duty,” they say. “The difference between those games and an indie game like Butterfly Soup is like the difference between reading the Magic Tree House [children’s book series] and the Encyclopedia Britannica. They’re completely different genres and styles, for completely different audiences.”
It wasn’t until the crucible of their junior year in high school that Olguin began considering video games as a viable career path. “When I started playing Skyrim and the Stanley Parable, which are at opposite ends of the gaming spectrum, I realized, ‘Oh, people do this for a living,’” they recall.
Together, these two games showcased the ability of video games to simulate fantastic, but real-world environments—and tell a story in a deeply compelling way. The revelation gave Olguin a career to aspire to, even if their entry point was less clear.
A computer science class in high school introduced them to the basics of coding (“Literally, we learned the BASIC programming language.”) and Olguin built on that experience with a graphic design class that helped lay a foundation in digital art. However, these early experiences deepened their sense that technical skills were simply tools in service to an original love for storytelling. “I was coming at it from art and design, and I knew that I was learning to code so I could do game design—not just because I love debugging things,” they say.
Once Olguin had a sense of how their interests could be turned into a career in game development, they had to select a college that could get them there. WPI was the last on their list during a whirlwind spring break tour of Northeast colleges with their mother. “When we got to WPI, we looked at each other and just knew this was the best one.” Olguin was especially impressed by a one-on-one meeting with Joshua Rosenstock, then a professor in the Interactive Media and Game Development (IMGD) program, who became their academic advisor. Another key interaction was with Associate Professor V.J. Manzo in the Department of Humanities and Arts, with whom Olguin later worked for a music minor capstone.
During their four years at WPI, Olguin was immersed in the world of game development, both inside and outside the classroom. A guest lecture hosted by IMGD made it clear just how competitive the game industry was, and that breaking in would require far more than good grades. “The industry is really built around having a strong portfolio,” they say. “You have to work on projects outside of class to get more experience and deepen your network.”
Taking the guest lecturer’s advice to heart, Olguin became deeply involved in WPI’s Game Development Club Developers (now known as the WPI chapter of the International Game Developers Association), eventually becoming its president during sophomore year. While they continued to participate in other extracurricular activities—performing with the TechniChords a cappella group, and occasional cello gigs with the university’s theatre orchestra—Olguin’s primary focus was building their portfolio through “game jams,” intensive 48-hour sessions where participants create a complete game from scratch. “I did almost every game jam until senior year,” they recall, building a repertoire of more than 20 games. “They were all small projects, but each one taught me something new.”
With a portfolio of smaller games under their belt, Olguin was ready for their Major Qualifying Project: a fully produced game that would be publicly launched on Steam, an app that allows users to buy and play PC games. After building out their MQP team, with Olguin at the center as designer and primary artist, one pesky problem remained: finding a concept. Following a late-night brainstorming session, Olguin’s team landed on an undeniable conceit—a game featuring a suburban housewife whose home is invaded by the fictional monster Cthulhu. “We immediately knew that was the winner,” they say. Their confidence was shared by the project’s two IMGD faculty advisors, Associate Professor of Teaching Farley Chery and Associate Professor of Computer Science Gillian Smith, director of IMGD, who encouraged the group to move forward on what would become The Call of Karen.
Before the game even launched, fate intervened. Like all games on Steam’s platform, The Call of Karen would need to be uploaded several weeks prior to release—a period when potential players can add the game to their “Wishlist” to be notified when it becomes available. “In the world of game development, Wishlists make the world go around,” Olguin explains. Within a week, their team’s creation had been added to 10,000 Wishlists—a staggering number for an unknown game from an unknown developer. The source of this surge? A prominent Japanese gaming magazine had featured the game, setting off a chain reaction: As more players added it to their Wishlists, Steam’s algorithm increased the game’s visibility, leading to even more attention.
By the time the dust settled, The Call of Karen had been downloaded more than 100,000 times, with two YouTube playthroughs garnering over a million views each. “It was so crazy to experience this level of success from our MQP,” they say. “It felt unprecedented.”
After two internships, a portfolio of contract work, and an expanding network in the game development community, Olguin graduated from WPI in 2020 with great promise. The success of The Call of Karen had bolstered their confidence as they prepared to enter the industry, but the timing was complicated. While the pandemic had caused game sales to soar as people sought entertainment at home, studios remained uncertain about the trend’s sustainability—leaving Olguin to face their first real roadblock. It was Boss Level in the job market.
Before landing their first full-time job in game development, Olguin needed to choose between two paths: that of artist or designer. Artists create the individual elements of a game, while designers determine how players interact with those elements. “The artist creates the houses, rocks, and trees in a game—and the designer decides if the character can go in that house, pick up that rock, or chop down that tree,” they explain.
The artist creates the houses, rocks, and trees in a game—and the designer decides if the character can go in that house, pick up that rock, or chop down that tree.
Olguin initially pursued art positions until a frank conversation shifted their focus. “A professional artist sat me down and said, ‘Listen, you could get to a professional level, but you’re not there now,’” Olguin recalls. “But I was pretty sure that I was ready for design, so I started applying for those positions.” This pivot brought new challenges—design positions typically require extensive experience, and, as Olguin noted, “no one gets hired for design right out of school.” Yet, WPI’s IMGD professors had stressed that success in the competitive gaming industry demanded boldness and tenacity, and Olguin was brimming with both qualities.
True to form, Olguin approached their pandemic-era job search with strategic acumen. While studios remained hesitant to hire, Olguin pursued a two-pronged strategy: applying for every available position while simultaneously building a professional network. “I was nose to the grindstone in getting myself out there,” they say. They joined the board of Boston Post Mortem, the local chapter of the International Game Developers Association, and began organizing events and meetups—turning what could have been a waiting game into an opportunity to strengthen the region’s game development community and connect with potential employers.
Nine months into their job search, Olguin found their Easter egg in Other Ocean Interactive, a midsize Canadian game studio that was looking for a new designer. Unlike most companies that required years of experience, Other Ocean had a reputation for taking chances on promising talent.
“When I got hired, they told me they like to take risks on people and ask a lot of them,” Olguin recalls. The gamble paid off for both parties. In five years, they’ve gone from designer to lead designer on several high-profile projects.
At Other Ocean, Olguin was immediately entrusted with Project Winter, a multiplayer survival game that had already attracted more than 2 million players. Though released while Olguin was still in college, Project Winter was a live-service game—meaning it required constant updates with new levels, player abilities, and careful adjustments to maintain balance for its massive player base. The company gave Olguin significant creative freedom with these updates, validating their trust in a junior designer. Under Olguin’s direction, Project Winter continued to expand its audience, with critics praising its innovative take on the survival game genre.
Olguin’s success with Project Winter led Other Ocean to entrust them with an even bigger challenge: leading development of a game in The Walking Dead universe. “I couldn’t tell anyone about it at first, but it was so cool to walk into a comic store, see The Walking Dead on the shelf and think, “I’m working on that!’” says Olguin. When The Walking Dead: Betrayal launched in September 2023, players praised its distinctive design approach, even if it didn’t reach the audience size Other Ocean had envisioned. For Olguin, bringing their creative vision to one of entertainment’s most recognized franchises marked another milestone in their rapid rise from WPI student to industry leader.
Proof of Olguin’s impact on the gaming industry arrived one lazy morning in late 2023. “I was lying in bed, looking on my phone for something to encourage me to get up, and I saw an email that read, ‘Congratulations from Forbes,’” they say. Olguin had earned a spot on Forbes’ prestigious “30 Under 30 in Games” list—fulfilling a dream that had once seemed out of reach. “When I was in school, I’d think on very dreamy days, ‘Maybe one day I’ll get on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list,’” Olguin recalls. “Very pie in the sky.” But for someone who makes a living creating new worlds, dreams have a way of becoming reality.
Now that Olguin is a bona fide insider, where do they see the game industry headed next? While major studios chase ever-higher production values, Olguin envisions a future driven by smaller teams taking bigger creative risks. “I saw a Tweet recently that said, ‘I want smaller games that look worse and are made by people paid more to work less,’” they say. “That’s where I want to be.”
It’s all well and good to come up with an interesting concept, but it’s much more challenging to take that concept and fully commit to and execute on it in a way that is both practical and fun.
Their vision aligns with a growing trend in game development. “Indie games tend to be more experimental in both genre and gameplay,” they explain. “While commercial games at bigger studios are trying to figure out how to be the most profitable, indie studios can get a little more weird.”
This trend takes advantage of Olguin’s supersized sense of imagination, but it’s the balance between innovation and playability that has defined their career to date.
“Coming up with ideas comes fairly naturally to me, but the part that requires hard work is shaping those ideas into something workable for games,” they say. “It’s all well and good to come up with an interesting concept, but it’s much more challenging to take that concept and fully commit to and execute on it in a way that is both practical and fun.”
Whether creating a viral hit about a suburban housewife facing off against Cthulhu or bringing fresh ideas to a beloved franchise like The Walking Dead, Olguin says the magic of games isn’t in their budget or graphics but in their ability to transport us somewhere new. After all, inside the circle of a game, anything is possible.
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