The press room was a pressure-cooker. Phones buzzed; a single question cut through the noise. I watched John Buckley answer it with an almost dismissive shrug.
I want you to feel how simple that moment was. You can hear the skepticism in the room — and you can hear the decision being made on a stage that matters to players and creators alike.
The demo hall went quiet at Summer Game Fest — Pocketpair’s plain refusal of generative AI
At the heart of the noise was Pocketpair, the studio behind Palworld, a surprise hit that arrived from nowhere and held players’ attention. When GamesRadar asked communications head John Buckley whether Palworld used AI assets, he didn’t hedge.
His line was blunt: “Gamers don’t want it… If the gamers don’t want it, I guess that’s it, right? Not much of a conversation to be had.” Then: “We have a lot of artists in-house. They like doing stuff themselves. There’s no reason to get rid of them for the sake of an AI doing it. Just seems pointless.”
A reporter leaned in at the podium — why Buckley’s “no” matters for dev culture
The line wasn’t just PR posture. It’s a statement about labor, pride, and consumer trust. I work with teams who sweat over character rigs and environments; when a lead says their artists “like doing stuff themselves,” it’s loyalty spoken plainly.
Pocketpair’s stance hits a nerve because generative tools such as Midjourney, Stable Diffusion and other OpenAI-powered services can create art at speed. That speed translates to cost savings for some studios — but it also risks alienating players who spot a visual mismatch or feel creativity has been hollowed out.
Did Palworld use AI in its art assets?
Short answer: Pocketpair says no. Buckley framed the decision in terms of player tastes and in-house pride. You don’t need me to tell you that public trust is fragile; one misstep and the community’s goodwill snaps.
A queue formed outside the booth — the industry’s mixed messages on generative AI
Across the industry the lines are messy. One day a studio publicly experiments, the next day a well-known creator balks — think Hideo Kojima’s on-again, off-again flirtations with the tech.
Platforms disagree, too. Steam now requires disclosure when generative AI is used in a game’s content, while the Epic Games Store has pushed back against that type of labeling. Those policy swings make it hard for studios to pick a simple path.
Why would studios use generative AI in game development?
Studios chase efficiency, prototyping speed, and the ability to iterate. Tools can generate concept art, textures, or even dialogue variants faster than a single artist could. But speed is a trade-off against control and, according to Buckley, player affection.
A developer wiped sweat from their brow after a long crunch — what this means for players and creators
When you strip everything back, this debate is about taste and trust. Players notice when art feels off; artists notice when their work is devalued. The community’s response to generative outputs — suspicion, mockery, or outright rejection — has real consequences.
AI became a double-edged sword in public perception: a tool that can sharpen work or cut the trust in two.
So where does that leave us? You’ll see studios that fold AI into pipelines quietly, others that publish elaborate guardrails, and a few — like Pocketpair — that plant a flag and say the human hand stays. For players who worry about authenticity and for devs who value craft, that stance carries weight.
Which side will the rest of the industry choose when players demand art that feels human — and are companies willing to pay the price for that promise?