Today, game development "in-house" at a publisher has become the exception, not the norm; by most industry estimates, more than half of the titles published in 2000 (for all gaming platforms) we're "third-party" projects, created far beyond the walls of the company that funded, marketed, and distributed them.

As Dan Morris discussed in March 2001's Extended Play column, the spread of powerful, affordable development tools, coupled with the networking freedom of the Internet, has spawned a host of talented lone-wolf gamesmiths who have largely replaced the old company-nurtured project teams. The best of these enfants terrible boast highly marketable skills and fresh, creative ideas for and about games. But, as Sturgeon's Law reminds us, "Ninety percent of everything is crap." So, as Morris succinctly put it, " What's needed now is an effective way for publishers and large development houses to locate and identify amateurs with the potential to be big players…or better yet, to find crews that are ready to get the job done right now."

Just after that issue went to print, we learned about an ambitious new outfit that seeks to do just that. The company's name is R.E.D. (Representing Entertainers and Developers), and while the trademark may be new, the roots of the enterprise are surprisingly deep. The gentlemen who founded it - Paul Cunningham, together with his partner Jeff Brunner - are seasoned veterans when it comes to gaming.

Eight years ago, Paul was a recruiter for a headhunting firm that placed programmers with mainstream software giants such as Microsoft and Oracle. A passionate cross-platform gamer, Paul approached his bosses with a proposal for extending their activity to include videogame programmers. "They just weren't interested-they couldn't see any profit in that area." So in May 1993, Paul started a company called Interact, which specialized in placing game programmers, artists, animators, and designers.

Soon, Interact was handling teams as well as individuals. "Someone would call and say: "I've got three or four really good guys, we've already shipped a few successful games, and we want to form our own company. You guys already have the contacts and relationships, so could you act as our agents and introduce us to people who have projects and are looking for third-party developers?" "Okay," we'd say. "Get your resumes together and we'll make some calls, set up some meetings, and see if some companies want to fund a very talented core team."

Initially, Interact did such matchmaking on an experimental basis. Pretty soon, though, Cunningham had brokered enough successful matches to warrant dedicating a separate division to creative-team deals. This "Team Representation Division" of Interact eventually spun off to become R.E.D.

Instead of bouncing from gig to gig, R.E.D.'s develop clients receive guidance through the rigors of setting up long-range business-growth plans and strategies, so they can follow up on an isolated success or two with a growing portfolio of successful, fulfilling projects.

It works like this: Let's say that R.E.D. happens to know about four very talented developers who've done great previous work on a racing game, but who are poised to take a job with a company that doesn't even do racing games - just to keep bread on the table, or because somebody's brother-in-law asked them onboard. R.E.D. might know about another company that wants to do a racing game, or that might want to in the near future if they had access to the right talent. At this point, the stars come into alignment and R.E.D. takes action to bring the two parties - who otherwise wouldn't know about each other - into a mutually happy union. Ideally, this arrangement gives R.E.D.'s publishing connections more and better choices, and steers its developer clients toward jobs that are more rewarding to them, personally and financially. "We organize the talent to match the project," says Cunningham, "when both parties are ready."

"Say we know that an ace programmer - somebody who's coded a couple of best-selling roleplaying games - is going to be available at the same time as a terrific team of artist/animators and a guy with great chops as a level-designer or world-builder. And they're all big fans of the Gibbering Ghoul movies. We can take that package to the studio that owns the rights to those films and say: "These guys are committed to making a great game based on your property. Here are their credentials, and we can vouch for their track record. Are you interested in funding such a project?"

As a matter of fact, R.E.D. recently pulled off just such a coup by matching Heavy Iron Studios with THQ to develop games based on THQ's license for the wildly popular cult-classic Evil Dead films.

"Super agents" probably will have a significant role to play in the foreseeable future. But for some small and well-established companies, the whole concept-for the moment, at least-is moot. We talked to people in several such companies, and the president of one of them (who chose to remain anonymous) summed up their attitude thusly: "We already have plenty of good personal contacts through out the industry. If an agent comes to me and says, 'We have up-to-date files on 700 people and companies,' I would have to reply, 'That's fine, but based on our experience, only 10 percent of them would even be interested in the kind of games we make - and I already know who they are."

Still, new developers just getting off the ground may find R.E.D. very appealing, especially if they've yet to make contacts of their own. And the cost of R.E.D.'s representation? A very reasonable 10 percent. Everybody, at every level of each deal package - on both sides of the often-contentious developer/publisher relationship - enjoys more and better options, greater personal satisfaction, and improved financial prospects. At least, that's the theory. And in truth, it's a system that has worked well, more often than not, for authors, performers and sports celebrities. Why shouldn't it work just as well in the gaming industry?