New Microsoft Gaming Boss Poses as a Gamer, but the Internet Immediately Sees Through the Primitive Deception
Steven Sharif Even Betrayed His Own Brother: A Fresh Investigation Based on Testimonies from Fired Ashes of Creation Developers
It seems Steven Sharif has fewer and fewer chances to justify himself in any way. While he is exchanging lawsuits with investors, a high-profile investigation has surfaced online, shedding light on what was truly happening behind the closed doors of Intrepid Studios.
The author of the video, hiding under the pseudonym NefasQS, published exclusive material based on dozens of interviews with former studio employees—programmers, artists, and managers who decided to tell the truth about the chaos that reigned inside the company.
The picture that emerged from their anonymous testimonies is striking in its absurdity and cynicism. Instead of the promised "family atmosphere" and open developer streams, behind the facade flourished dictatorship, financial machinations, and a complete lack of strategy for releasing the game.
The story is full of details that sound like a plot for a satirical series: from a personal chef who for years cooked lunches only for the two executives at their private home, to the mass layoff of the entire studio via emails filled with Latin legal terms, signed by the mysterious pseudonym Nihil Dicit.
Developers describe the workflow as extremely chaotic, where Steven Sharif, who allegedly had no real management experience, behaved like a capricious child playing at being a game creator. He could disappear from the office for weeks, paralyzing decision-making, yet demanded personal approval for every trivial matter, throwing tantrums when firing employees.
The CFO, John Moore, also apparently failed to handle his duties, ignoring questions about salary delays and focusing only on buying snacks, while developers had to chase him down in the hallways to pay for critical software. Salaries, which were supposed to be paid twice a month, were regularly delayed, and promised bonuses were never paid. Meanwhile, Steven publicly reassured the team with fabricated stories about selling his personal cryptocurrency to cover debts.
The illusion of the studio's financial independence shattered when employees learned about the existence of a secret board of directors, which, in their opinion, forced the dubious early access launch of the game to attract investments at any cost.
A special place in the investigation is occupied by stories of manipulation that even affected Sharif's inner circle. For instance, it turned out that his online gaming buddy, hired into the studio through personal connections, received a salary twice that of his colleagues in the testing department. Moreover, Steven managed to deceive his own brother, Tim, convincing him to invest money in producing game merchandise, as a result of which Tim himself became a victim of the scam and suffered losses.
The culmination of this story was the sudden closure of the studio and Sharif's resignation, citing health problems. As a result, over two hundred highly qualified specialists, many of whom came from leading industry studios, found themselves on the street without severance pay or health insurance. According to the investigation's author, some of them are now forced to live in their cars, unable to pay rent, and survive only thanks to a spontaneously organized mutual aid network of former colleagues.
Against this backdrop, suspicions are growing louder that the multi-stage development with endless alpha and beta tests was merely a smokescreen designed to collect money from trusting players for as long as possible, and the game was never meant to see the light of day.