Let me say something that most people in the Australian game development community think but won’t say publicly because they’re worried about burning bridges: the grant system is broken.

Not completely broken. Grants have kept studios alive. They’ve funded games that went on to win awards. The Digital Games Tax Offset (DGTO) and various state-level programs have done genuine good. But the system as it currently operates has serious problems that nobody in government seems interested in fixing.

The paperwork problem

The amount of bureaucratic overhead required to apply for, receive, and acquit an Australian game development grant is staggering. I’ve spoken to studio heads who estimate they spend 15 to 20 percent of their working time on grant administration. That’s time not spent making games.

Small studios — the ones who need grants the most — are the worst equipped to handle this. They don’t have a dedicated business manager or grant writer. They’re three or four developers trying to make a game and also figure out how to file quarterly milestone reports in a format that satisfies a public servant who may never have played a video game.

The irony is thick. The grants exist to help small studios compete. The process to get them actively disadvantages small studios.

Who actually benefits

Here’s the pattern I keep seeing. Studios that are good at writing grant applications get grants. Studios that make great games but can’t navigate bureaucracy don’t. These aren’t always the same studios.

There’s a whole cottage industry of grant consultants now. People who charge thousands of dollars to help studios write applications. That’s money being extracted from the development ecosystem to pay for the privilege of asking the government for money. It’s absurd.

The DGTO is better in some ways because it’s a tax offset rather than a competitive grant — you just need to meet the criteria. But the qualifying spend threshold means it’s mostly useful for mid-sized to large projects, not the small indie games that often punch above their weight creatively.

The timing problem

Government grant cycles don’t align with game development realities. Funding rounds open and close on bureaucratic schedules. If your studio needs money in March but the next round doesn’t open until July, you’re either burning personal savings or you’re out of luck.

Game development is iterative and unpredictable. A six-month project can become twelve months when you hit a design problem. But try explaining that to a government program manager who needs the milestone report on the date you promised it nine months ago.

State-level chaos

Then there’s the patchwork of state programs. Victoria has Film Victoria’s games funding. Queensland has Screen Queensland. South Australia, NSW, and others have their own versions. The criteria, timelines, and reporting requirements are different for each.

If you’re a studio in Melbourne, you’re fine — Film Victoria runs one of the better programs. If you’re in a state with weaker games industry support, your options are limited. The federal programs are supposed to fill this gap, but they’re oversubscribed and slow.

What would actually help

Honestly? Three things.

Simplify the application process. A game studio shouldn’t need a consultant to apply for a $50,000 grant. Make the forms shorter, the criteria clearer, and the turnaround faster.

Create rolling applications. Instead of two funding rounds per year, let studios apply when they need the money. This is how many international programs work. It’s not radical.

Fund operational costs, not just project costs. Most grants only cover specific project expenses. But what kills small studios is the gap between projects — when there’s no revenue and no grant to cover rent and salaries. Operational funding keeps studios alive long enough to make their next game.

I’m not anti-grant. I’m anti-bad-process. Australian game developers are making world-class games. The least the system can do is not waste their time while trying to help them.