The world loves Indonesia’s story-driven games. Why don’t we support them?
What the government can do to support the creative economy we are actually good at
This op-ed reflects the author’s own analysis and views and does not necessarily represent those of The Reformist.
In 2023, Mojiken Studio’s A Space for the Unbound, a pixel-art narrative game set in 1990s Surabaya, transported players around the world into Indonesian high schools and warungs (food shops); full of humor, melancholy, and resilience. Hailed as “a deeply human story” by reviewers, it later got nominations at the prestigious Game Awards.
But the game’s success revealed a sobering truth: Indonesia’s gaming market is worth more than USD 1.7 billion, yet local developers capture less than 1 percent of that revenue. We are avid consumers (even amongst the world’s top 15 gaming markets), but rarely creators.
Games like Coffee Talk and A Space for the Unbound prove that Indonesian stories resonate globally. But are local creators equipped to build the tools to tell more stories?
High score, low share
Millions of Indonesians are glued to their phones wherever you look; maybe on a crowded Lebak Bulus bound MRT, dozens are playing Mobile Legends or PUBG.
By numbers alone, we are one of the world’s most vibrant gaming nations. But almost all the revenue flows outward. These blockbuster titles, designed around endless micro-transactions, enrich studios abroad. Despite the USD 1.7 billion market, Indonesian developers take home less than 1 percent.
Why is that? Indonesian talents have released globally recognized titles. Other than A Space for the Unbound, Toge Productions’ Coffee Talk (a talk-simulator game where humans and orcs talk about love and loneliness over coffee) also gained international acclaim. However, these narrative-driven games (the kind we excel at) struggle to compete in the Indonesian market because they don’t promise predictable profit.
If Indonesia is to be seen as more than a consumer market, this imbalance must be confronted head-on. Because, each time a studio abandons an Indonesian story because “it won’t sell,” we lose an opportunity to define ourselves.
This is where the government could step in (potentially).
Perpres no. 19 is a start, but not the solution
Last year, the government issued Presidential Regulation (Perpres) No. 19 of 2024 that finally recognized games as part of Indonesia’s creative economy. It promised coordination across ministries, integration into education, and better access to finance. This breakthrough was long overdue; the industry had long been depending on crowdfunding or being someone’s “passion project”.
But the Perpres is no silver bullet. If anything, it’s a “version 1.0 patch.” It only provides the hardware (the institutions and rules), but not the software to unlock real change.
The problem with Perpres 19/2024 is that it focuses on loans and investor facilitation. But again, investors are drawn to safe and monetizable projects like mobile shooters, not risky stories about Surabayan adolescence.
That means the very sector that has carried Indonesia’s cultural voice abroad, like Coffee Talk and Unbound, would remain unsupported. Yes, these narrative games were not designed to maximize revenue per user. But they defined Indonesia to the world. Under today’s framework, they would still struggle to find backing.
Government support is needed to distinguish cultural value from commercial value. A game’s resonance, its ability to tell Indonesian stories, may far exceed short-term profits. Perpres 19/2024 is a milestone, but unless it evolves into direct investment in narratives, it risks becoming a half-measure.
The strategy guide: Lessons from Canada and Korea
Indonesia is not the first to grapple with this problem. The country can learn from how Canada and South Korea support their cultural missions.
Canada funds projects through the Canada Media Fund (CMF). Eligibility depends on cultural content: a project earns points for every Canadian aspect it brings: it could be writers or teams comprising Canadians; or perhaps the game sets in Canadian cities. The more Canadian cultural aspects the project is depicting, the more support it gets.
This rewards cultural specificity, ensuring creators are not forced to imitate, say, Hollywood. In 2022, the CMF invested over CAD 366 million in 1,400 projects, fueling billions in exports.
Korea, through the Korea Creative Content Agency (KOCCA), built a complete ecosystem: direct support for indie projects, mentorship programs, global marketing campaigns, and regional hubs. The agency has propelled the Korean Wave. The country successfully made cultural content its second-largest export sector, worth over USD 13 billion in 2021.
The lesson is clear: creative economies are not accidental. It’s engineered. Canada funds culture. Korea builds ecosystems. Indonesia, by contrast, still relies on loans, leaving narrative-driven indies to fend for themselves. To turn rare hits into a sustained wave, ‘Indonesianness’ itself must be treated as an asset.
Expanding the map
Conversations about Indonesia’s creative economy too often stop at Jakarta. But creativity has never been the capital’s monopoly. A resilient games ecosystem requires Yogyakarta, Bandung, and Surabaya as anchors.
Yogyakarta blends tradition with experimentation: wayang and gamelan live alongside indie collectives and film festivals. A game incubator here could channel that energy into interactive storytelling.
Bandung, with its universities and tech culture, has long mixed technical skill with creative rebellion. Just as its indie rock scene once defined an era, Bandung could become an engine for game production.
Surabaya has already proven itself. Mojiken Studio, rooted in local culture, brought Surabaya’s adolescence to the world. Imagine what a supported cluster could achieve.
A Jakarta-centered industry risks flattening stories into a narrow lens. A multi-hub model ensures diversity. Imagine Sundanese folklore, Javanese traditions, East Javanese sensibilities; all woven into global-ready games.
Leveling up soft power
Why invest in games when Indonesia faces so many urgent needs? Well, because games are not “just play.” They are frontline tools of nation-building in the 21st century. Here’s how:
Future-oriented jobs
Game development creates networks of programmers, artists, writers, composers, marketers, and lawyers. Skills spill into animation, advertising, and tech. For a young, digital population, this is meaningful work.
Infinite scalability
A barrel of oil can be sold once. A hit game can be sold endlessly. Sweden transformed itself with Minecraft. Poland rebranded itself with The Witcher 3. Intellectual property is the real goldmine.
Cultural diplomacy
Games shape how the world sees a nation. Japan has Pokémon. Korea has K-pop (and League of Legends esports!). Indonesia has glimpses: Coffee Talk introduced Jakarta’s café culture; A Space for the Unbound made Surabaya adolescence part of global imagination.
Cost efficiency
One kilometer of toll road costs more than dozens of indie titles. The cultural return on investment far outweighs the expense.
The choice is stark: do nothing and remain eternal consumers, or invest and claim narrative sovereignty.
Press Start: A two-part plan for Indonesia’s next level
If Perpres 19 was the “version 1.0 patch,” what we need now is the expansion pack. Two deliberate interventions could transform isolated successes into a national strategy:
I. National Game Development Fund
Modeled after Canada’s CMF, this would provide grants (not loans) for culturally significant games. Eligibility would be points-based: Indonesian writers, themes, or settings raise a project’s score. Support must extend beyond development to marketing, localization, and global expo participation. By making ‘Indonesianness’ an asset, the fund ensures resonant stories (albeit risky) have a real chance.
II. Decentralized Creative Hubs
Inspired by Korea’s KOCCA, hubs in Yogyakarta, Bandung, and Surabaya could offer mentorship, training, and pathways to exposure. Linked to the national fund, they would ensure resources and ecosystems reinforce one another.
But neither works alone. A fund without hubs scatters money; hubs without funding become hollow. Together, they create conditions for a true industry where talent can thrive, fail safely, and scale globally.
This is not subsidizing hobbies. It is a strategic investment in soft power. In a world where culture travels faster than trade, narrative sovereignty matters as much as economic sovereignty. We can’t remain consumers of other people’s games. We should seize the chance to be creators in our own right.
When the framework exists and the tools are ready, what Indonesia needs now is the courage to press start.
Nadhif Haykal is a writer on media, arts, and culture. He graduated from Universitas Gadjah Mada’s International Relations program.
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