The Interview
“Yihan. How was the interview?”
“I-It wasn’t much…”
I’ve been doing interviews all day today, and I haven’t liked anyone. ‘Did I write the recruitment ad too sloppily…? Portfolios are supposed to be the bare minimum, after all.’
I wrote it with the startup vibe—welcoming newbies who want to grow together—but it seems to have been the poison.
Someone who applied as a programmer but doesn’t even know how to code. A guy with no experience demanding big-company salary, completely clueless about the real world. And another who showed up in a sleeveless shirt and shorts, wearing slippers. ‘The HR team… I miss them.’
“So, no one got hired today?”
“Y-Yeah… no one who caught my eye.”
As a president instead of just an employee, I felt a strange kinship with the saying my father always repeated: ‘A good employee makes good business.’
Before the interviews, I’d had a tiny flicker of hope that I’d find a genius like Daniel who was still waiting to shine. But I gave up on that entirely.
“I should revise the ad.”
Like any small company’s recruitment post, I added “preferred for candidates with experience” and made portfolio submission mandatory. I changed the salary figure of around 3.3 million to “to be negotiated later.”
Most importantly, I wanted the post to give the impression that our company is small but not easy. Even though it’s not yet big in Korea, I made sure to highlight that “Dot Hero” had achieved number one real-time popularity on the two major markets. That our company’s work. ‘Applying to a company that’s done nothing and applying to one that’s already shipped a game are two different things.’
When I updated the ad, the number of applicants jumped meaningfully. First, proper programmers started showing up.
“A-Annyeonghaseyo. I-I’m Kim Jae-min.”
He avoided eye contact, his shirt collar was askew, and his posture was all wrong, like his neck was stiff. ‘You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but… I’m hopeful.’
For another company this would’ve been a sure fail in the interview, but for programming it was the perfect first impression. A stiff neck is a proud injury programmers accept, and the nerdy fashion told me he was far from cool. ‘Social skills seem lacking?’
Programmers come first. ‘Programmers can lack social skills.’
I smiled warmly at him. “Mr. Kim Jae-min. I read your resume carefully. You graduated from computer science, right? From a prestigious university. You could’ve gone to a big company. Why did you apply to ours?”
“T-That… t-to be honest, if I just submit the papers, they usually get through, but I keep failing interviews…”
I understood perfectly. No matter how good your grades, who would hire someone who stutters that badly?
“So our company is new and easy to work with?”
“N-No! I mean… because it’s the company that made Dot Hero, I…”
“Oh! Have you played Dot Hero?”
“Y-Yes! It was really fun. Even though the casual style hid it, I think the game is technically amazing. Especially the optimization…”
“Huh…”
He nailed exactly where I’d struggled the most. ‘Games interest you a lot?’
Not every programmer who works in games loves them. Lots of people just take a job in the industry and go with the flow. But loving games matters for job satisfaction, even if it doesn’t directly equal skill. ‘Even if he played Dot Hero just to check before applying, that’s still a plus.’
Contrary to my worries, he spoke fluently. “Y-Yes…! From a young age I played every genre. Console games like Nintendo and PlayStation, and even on the new platform Storm, I’ve played all kinds. Let me explain a bit…”
“That’s enough. I get it. I can feel how much you love games.”
“A… really?”
My intuition as a developer who’d lived fourteen years in the industry told me he was real. “Mr. Kim, let’s do well together.”
“A-Are you hiring me?”
“It won’t be easy. My goal is always to make good games, and good games take a lot of work—that’s my philosophy. It might mean overtime. Still, will you join our company?”
“G-Good games… I’ll work hard…”
I hired one programmer.
Next was Kim Min-ji, who seemed ordinary compared to the last guy. “Um… Mr. Hwang Seok-ho. Your major is unrelated to programming, and you learned coding at an academy?”
“Y-Yes! I learned C/C++, Python, Java, JavaScript—everything!”
“Hmm. Any game-engine experience?”
“No! But if you give me the chance, I’ll learn as fast as possible!”
“You like games?”
“Yes! I’ve been playing Eternal Tail since the open beta!”
Until now he’d been stone-faced, but the name caught my interest. “Eternal Tail. That’s a fun game. Have you played others?”
“Um… sorry. Only Eternal Tail. I get hooked on one game and stay there.”
When interest flagged, Mr. Hwang suddenly panicked. “I may not have experience or know the industry well, but I’m confident in my work ethic!”
“Okay. The result will be sent by text later—”
“Y-Yes! I can take one day off a week! I’m confident in my stamina!”
“Oh. Really?”
Unlike the first candidate, Mr. Hwang had no strong academics and no big love for the game industry. But I saw his desperation. “Who would rather do overtime and give up weekends?”
A strong desire for the job. I liked him. He was better than the rest. ‘Coding skill will grow with overtime.’
Except for a few geniuses, coding improves after long hours and extra work. “Mr. Hwang, please take care.”
“T-Thank you! I’ll work hard!”
I hired both programmers. Neither had experience, but I wasn’t worried. ‘I only have a few juniors I trained myself.’
After rolling them around a bit, they’d be able to do one person’s work quickly. Next was art. Two graphic designers to implement graphics with the engine, and one illustrator for concept and illustration. “When do we ever get a break…”
I squinted at the flood of resumes and portfolios. Art had way more applicants than programming. Programmers have more demand than supply, but pictures have the opposite problem. ‘Art is the field where supply always exceeds demand.’
“Daniel. Time to work. Go through these and tell me which ones are okay.”
“I’m not great with art?”
“Look with ordinary eyes. If it passes a normal person’s judgment, you’ve got at least basic skill. But don’t skim.”
“Got it.”
Daniel filtered first. I went through the remaining portfolios carefully. ‘This guy has too much self-copy tendency.’
The work looked good and detailed. At first glance he seemed talented, but that was the trap. “Anyone can draw what they know best. He’s just doing the same kind of pictures because he lacks in other areas.”
‘Pass.’
Next was someone unusual. No distinctive personality. The characters and poses felt familiar. But the portfolio was incredibly diverse—animals, people, backgrounds. Curiosity rose. ‘No creativity, but skill seems fine.’
In game development, if the art team ignores director instructions and only follows their own artistic ego, disasters happen. This guy gave off no artistic ego. Just a machine that follows orders.
I realized my hunch was right when I interviewed her. “I’ve read Miss Kim Min-ji’s portfolio. It’s good, but… individuality? I couldn’t feel much of that. What do you think?”
“I know my 3D models and illustrations lack individuality. I got a lot of feedback in school. But I’m confident in speed.”
“You work very fast.”
“Yes. All the pieces in this portfolio were made this year.”
“All of them?!”
It might have been a lie to pass the interview, but I trusted her. Lack of individuality or creativity wasn’t a big problem for a graphic designer whose main job was 3D modeling. Concept and detail were mostly handled by the illustrator. “Please take care going forward.”
“Yes, President.”
“I’m a bit uncomfortable with ‘president.’ Just call me director.”
“Yes, Director.”
A steady person. I liked her. Next, the graphic designer I hired was unusual. “The portfolio was really impressive.”
“Thank you…”
“But, Mr. Jeon Seong-bae, can I ask why there’s nothing but creatures?”
Mr. Jeon’s portfolio was amazing. Solid basics, details down to every hair, and wild creativity in making creatures I’d never seen. But it was all monsters. “A-Hahaha. I love creatures so much I only draw them…”
“Hmm…”
“I-I do other things well! It was a mistake— I only showed my favorite creature works.”
“Really? Then you can show other works?”
“Y-Yes…”
He had a clear creature strength, and the other works were just a little lacking. But not bad. “Mr. Jeon, let’s do well together. I’m planning a game and your skills will help a lot.”
“Of course! I knew you’d notice! Creature lovers recognize each other…! I was especially impressed by the creatures you made in Dot Hero!”
“Eh?”
“Especially the hand-head boss at stage five gave me chills. A giant hand where the head should be…! The pixel art was a shame, but that’s just the game concept.”
“I-It was?”
“Yes! The eerie yet restrained parts were especially striking. How did you imagine something so perfect?!”
“E-Um… we’ll figure it out while we work.”
“Great!”
A little weird, but skill was enough. ‘I’ve hired all the graphic designers for 3D modeling… now it’s just an illustrator.’
In game development, who isn’t important? But illustrators are especially crucial. A director extracts the vision from his head through words—scripts and meetings. But can others fully understand the director’s imagination? Even after reading the script and hearing it in meetings, it’s not easy.
That’s where the illustrator comes in. Not just drawing pictures, but translating the director’s vision into something the art team can easily understand. The difference is words and pictures, but the point is easier communication. In that sense, creativity matters. The director can say crazy things, but the illustrator must understand and draw the concept instantly. “This one seems good.”
I looked critically and found one standout. ‘Cha Ju-hee… her name matches the person I knew.’
In the past, a subordinate with the same name had worked with me. She had a strong sense of duty—always willing to work late. I remembered her clearly. ‘It can’t be the same person.’
She was a programmer. I sent a text asking her to come for an interview, thinking it was just a coincidence since Korean names are common. “Hello! I’m C-Ju-Hee!”
“E-Um… Miss Cha Ju-hee? An illustrator… right?”
“Yes? Was there a mistake? I’m an illustrator, not a programmer…”
I still couldn’t understand why the programmer I knew was here for an illustrator interview.