
A Canadian hockey fan took a career in audience data into the gaming business. At Livewire, Indy Khabra is working on a deceptively practical question: how does a brand earn a place where people come to play?

Before millions of players recorded their virtual lives, AJ “Dr Doom” Shewki wanted people watching at home to understand the game. His years building LIV reveal how much work goes into making a camera feel ordinary.

He helped turn a desktop messenger into Tencent. Then he backed the teams that built its mobile future. For Ma Huateng, staying useful has meant giving the next idea room to grow.
Before co-founding Ampverse, Charlie Baillie worked in music and advertising. His next audience came with its own rules, local heroes and a well-developed ability to ignore a sales pitch.

She helped build games, then built Sanlo to help their makers finance the next move. Olya Caliujnaia’s career follows the work that happens after a good idea meets a difficult system.
A mouse mat paid for an early advertisement. A snowflake helped inspire a brand. Hannes Wallin built Fractal Design by paying attention to small things, then handed over the CEO role to focus on the company’s future.
She learned communications on Capitol Hill and at Yahoo, then built JSA+Partners around candid advice. After the Los Angeles fires, Jennifer Stephens Acree put those relationships to work for businesses trying to begin again.

His family built in bricks and mortar. Herman Narula chose virtual worlds, raised $502 million in one funding round, and discovered that getting people into a world is only the beginning.

Overwolf began with a gamer’s small annoyance and a founder’s rather large to-do list. Uri Marchand’s next move was to let other people do the building - and help them get paid.

A Singapore law graduate built Razer around the things he wanted to play with. Two decades later, Min-Liang Tan is testing how far that instinct can travel - from gaming mice to an AI companion on your desk.

Five brothers turned a Breton family business into Ubisoft. Forty years later, Yves Guillemot is testing whether the instincts that built a games publisher can help him remake it.
Before Roblox, David Baszucki made software for physics lessons. The students had other plans - and their improvisations helped point him toward a world built by its players.
A New York sports fan took his advertising career to Asia, then helped build Ampverse. His wager: gaming teams need stories, local roots and a business that lasts beyond the next win.

A Rhodes Scholar, poet, and Orca co-founder follows a stubborn question from Oxford to Minecraft: how much work should stand between an idea and the people who want to try it?

Before Bodybuilding.com became a business approaching $500 million in annual revenue, it was a costly domain and a garage operation in Idaho. Ryan DeLuca built a place for people to gather, tried retirement, and came back with a virtual world.

A burrito conversation helped launch World Golf Tour. Two decades later, YuChiang Cheng is running Hero Bread, still asking how a good product becomes part of somebody’s ordinary day.
A game before launch. A factory visit before a cheque. Inside the Turkish venture-fund umbrella that treats the next milestone as the real pitch.
A missing reward. A locked account. A player reaching for the exit. Helpshift puts support inside the game, then asks whether that small intervention can protect a much larger relationship.

A childhood wish to take apart a thrift-store computer became a channel with millions of viewers. The more interesting build may be the company, crew, and curious world around it.

He started with a Hunger Games world inside Minecraft. Now he helps internet creators turn attention into objects people can hold, wear, read, and play.

The Genies co-founder built a career behind the curtain as his company moved from cartoon doubles to digital fashion to AI characters. The product kept changing; the operating wager did not.
Twice, Jason Citron set out to make a game. Twice, the useful thing turned out to be the room where players talked. That recurring mistake became a career, a company, and a new piece of internet furniture.

Before Discord connected millions of players, its CTO was a teenager wiring together forums, voice chat and friendships for a Final Fantasy XI guild. The scale changed. The problem did not.

A programmer won his first fortune with code, made another in games, then discovered that bottled drinks obey a harsher clock. Tang Binsen's second act is a study in ambition, inventory and the difficult art of becoming patient.

The five-time taekwondo champion became an actor, a studio founder and, eventually, Overwolf’s CMO. His latest act is helping players turn the urge to change a game into a profession.

A failed chat app, a rejected exit and a stubborn interest in how people express themselves led Akash Nigam to spend nearly a decade building digital characters. Now Genies is trying to give artificial intelligence a face, a wardrobe and somewhere to play.

Before Solsten could model an audience, its founder had to connect psychotherapy, powder days, Fortune 500 UX and one consequential cold email. The result is a career-long argument for looking past the click to the person making it.
Sony spent decades assembling a strange collection of consoles, cameras, songs, films and sensors. Now the collection is becoming a system - and its smartest lesson is knowing when the pieces truly reinforce one another.

After learning the language of metrics at EA and Zynga, Bradley Ross built Captain.tv around a social idea: a livestream audience should be able to play, not merely watch.
A $66 million debut fund is putting first checks into space refueling, biometric firearms and board games - on the theory that the world's hardest problems are made of atoms, not apps.