The Gaming Zeitgeist Is Shifting

(Where Winds Meet - Photo from: https://www.wherewindsmeetgame.com/) 

Over the past five years, I have started to notice a pattern in global gaming that feels too consistent to brush off as a coincidence. I am not presenting this as a proven strategy or a secret master plan. This is simply how things look when you step back and watch release schedules, studio behavior, and the kinds of games suddenly appearing at scale. From my point of view, it feels like the center of gravity in gaming is quietly moving.

For a long time, developers based in mainland China struggled to release games that could stand beside major Japanese and Western AAA titles. That never struck me as a lack of talent or funding. It felt more like there was little urgency to compete internationally. Over the last decade, that seems to have changed. I cannot point to a single policy that explains it, but it increasingly feels like large studios are being encouraged to think globally and treat games as long-term cultural projects rather than short-term products.

 (Genshin Impact - Photo from https://genshin.hoyoverse.com/)

The first time this really clicked for me was with Genshin Impact. Developed by miHoYo, now operating globally as HoYoverse and headquartered in Shanghai, the game launched in 2020 and was immediately compared to The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. The influence was obvious, but what stood out was the execution. Genshin Impact arrived polished, confident, and built to last. It also avoided pushing overt cultural themes at the start. In hindsight, that feels intentional. The game lets players get comfortable with a Chinese studio delivering top-tier quality before asking them to engage with deeper cultural elements later.

(Black Myth: Wukong - Photo from: https://store.steampowered.com/app/2358720/Black_Myth_Wukong/)

After that foundation was laid, the next wave felt far more direct. Black Myth: Wukong, developed by Game Science in Hangzhou, drew straight from Journey to the West and made no attempt to soften its cultural identity. Its combat design echoed modern action games like Devil May Cry, but its world, imagery, and tone were unmistakably Chinese. To me, Black Myth: Wukong felt like a test of audience readiness rather than technology. The global response suggested that players were more than willing to engage with Chinese myth as long as the production values met expectations.

(Marvel Rivals - Photo from: https://www.marvelrivals.com/media/)

Around the same time, Chinese studios began working more visibly with global intellectual property. Marvel Rivals, developed by NetEase in Hangzhou, stood out not just because of the Marvel license, but because of how it moved and looked. The animation, combat flow, and character motion leaned heavily into wuxia-inspired choreography. Rather than fully conforming to Western visual language, the game subtly reshaped it. Whether or not the project is hugely profitable, it feels important in terms of normalizing these aesthetics inside one of the world’s biggest franchises.

(Blood Message - Photo from: https://www.blood-message.com/en/)

What made the pattern harder to dismiss was the volume that followed. Blood Message, also from NetEase, adopts a cinematic action format similar to God of War but places it firmly within a medieval Chinese setting. Wuchang: Fallen Feathers, developed by Leenzee in Chengdu, takes the Soulslike formula and filters it through late Ming dynasty history and Chinese religious imagery. Phantom Blade Zero, developed by S-Game in Beijing, emphasizes fast, cinematic martial combat and is often compared to titles like Sekiro or Ghost of Tsushima, even though its creative roots clearly come from Chinese martial fiction.

(Wuchang: Fallen Feathers - Photo from: https://x.com/playWUCHANG/status/1922097985091252551/photo/1)

Where Winds Meet, developed by Everstone Studio under NetEase, feels like a longer play. Set during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period, it blends single-player storytelling with open-world and MMO elements. It is free to play, with mostly cosmetic monetization, and has been available in China since 2023, before its wider global push. That slow rollout makes it feel less like a gamble and more like deliberate positioning.

(Love and Deepspace - Photo from: https://loveanddeepspace.infoldgames.com/en-EN/home#0)

This shift is not limited to action games. Love and Deepspace, developed by Papergames, a Shanghai-based studio, shows the same confidence in a completely different genre. It is a high-budget romance game that targets a global audience without apologizing for its aesthetics or themes. Its success suggests that this broader movement is about occupying as much cultural space as possible, not just dominating one genre or type of player.

All of this is happening while Japan’s game industry appears increasingly constrained. Rising development costs, conservative leadership, and an aging workforce make large risks harder to justify. That does not mean Japanese studios lack creativity or skill. It simply feels like their margin for error is smaller. Meanwhile, major Chinese publishers like Tencent in Shenzhen and NetEase in Hangzhou seem willing to absorb losses, fund aggressive marketing campaigns, and sign long-term deals with streamers and creators, especially in Southeast Asia. Those choices make more sense if the goal is visibility and long-term relevance rather than immediate profit.

(Phantom Blade Zero - Photo from: https://store.steampowered.com/app/4115450/Phantom_Blade_Zero/)

What fascinates me most is how coordinated this all feels. Western and Japanese studios often move independently, sometimes even competing against each other within the same region. In contrast, Chinese studios appear to be advancing in parallel, covering different genres, audiences, and tones while reinforcing a shared cultural presence. Stories like Journey to the West or historical periods like the Five Dynasties era are showing up again and again, almost as if there is an effort to make them as familiar to modern gamers as any long-established setting.

I do not see this as a takeover at all. It feels more like a moment of opportunity being quietly seized. While much of the industry moves cautiously and in isolation, another part is willing to move faster, spend more, and think years ahead rather than quarters. Whether players actively notice it or not, something meaningful is shifting in games. And once that pattern comes into focus, it becomes almost impossible to ignore.