Moshe Linke, creator of Fugue in Void
It was a real pleasure to talk to Moshe Linke, creator of unique experimental games such as Fugue in Void and Neo-Brutalism of Tomorrow. In this conversation, he discusses his unusual career path, his architectural and artistic influences, his intuitive vision of creation, and the place of video games in the world of contemporary art.
Point’n Think: How did you get into video games, and how did you then move on to more experimental games? Is there a particular moment that stands out in your memory?
Moshe Linke: When I was very young, my family often took me to art exhibitions. I was exposed to that world at an early age, and I think it had a profound effect on me. As a child, you don’t really understand the context of the works, you feel, you explore, you vibrate with what you see. Being in a museum as a child is an experience in itself. You’re very sensitive to the space, the atmosphere. The place becomes an experience in itself, sometimes even more than the works it contains. And I think that’s where my curiosity for things I don’t immediately understand was born. I’ve always had this need to explore, to understand. Contemporary art, modern art, all of that has always fascinated me.
And then as I grew up, I discovered the world of video games. That was huge for me because it offered me a form of escape, a very powerful distraction. Let’s just say it didn’t help me in school! I spent a lot of time playing and exploring games. Very early on, I was drawn to strange experiences, to games that were out of the ordinary. I spent a lot of time looking for what existed outside the mainstream, researching creators and studios. And during my last years of school, it became a real obsession. That’s when I discovered a game called NaissanceE. That game was what pushed me into development. It had everything I loved: architecture, art, philosophy. And above all, I discovered that it had been made by just one person. That’s what made me want to try it.
From there, I started looking into how games are made. I had no background in programming, no experience in development. I taught myself everything. From the start, I also tried to connect with other people, via Twitter, Discord… I even contacted the developer of NaissanceE. I asked a lot of questions, sought advice, a bit like mentoring. And little by little, I started creating my own things. I discovered that it was much more accessible than I thought. Of course, I didn’t necessarily have the technical skills to create complex gameplay, but those limitations opened doors for me. They allowed me to explore other paths. Very quickly, I realized that I didn’t want to make “traditional” games. What I wanted was to use the medium of gaming, the game engine, as an artistic canvas. A digital canvas.
And it worked pretty well. I discovered a scene of solo developers who were doing the same thing, often with a similar background to mine. At that point, I was so absorbed in creating that I wasn’t paying any attention to school anymore. I ended up dropping out. I left the school system, which was both scary and uncertain. I had no qualifications and no clear plan for the future. But at the same time, my work was starting to get noticed. I was getting very positive feedback and articles in the trade press. There were also more and more exhibitions around the world that were interested in these very specific, very experimental games. That helped me build a portfolio, establish a foundation, and start a career path that I could believe in.
So I decided not to go to college, not to stray too far from what was still a hobby at the time. I kept creating, putting out projects. And over time, a small community formed around my work. And then there was a project that changed everything, but I can’t say too much about it yet. But it’s a project that has attracted financial interest, and that’s partly what allows me to continue creating independently today. I’ve been working on it for several years now, and it’s clearly what has allowed me to turn my passion into a job, into a professional activity. I hope to be able to talk about it soon… but for now, it’s still a bit of a secret.
PnT: What you describe is exactly what I like: it’s not really a “video game” in the traditional sense, but more of an experience, a work of art. You use the same tools as video games, but for something else. I have a more general question: how do you approach a new project or creation? You seem to follow what you want to express, based on how you feel.
Moshe : Yes, I would say that for me, it’s something very spontaneous. There isn’t really any planning beforehand. I’m a big fan of improvisation, of following my instincts. Ideas usually come to me at any time, often during very mundane moments, like when I’m doing the dishes or taking a shower. Suddenly, an idea emerges. What I do then is write everything down in a big notebook. It might be a simple sentence or a longer piece of text. I keep everything, I collect it. And at some point, certain ideas start to connect with each other. That’s when I feel the need to transform them, to bring them to life in a visual form, to experiment with them.
There’s this very strong urge to take this mental image I have in my head and make it playable. This need to see the result as quickly as possible. Often, it only takes a few days. I’m pretty quick at turning an idea into a playable prototype. I always try to preserve this spontaneity in the way I work. I think that’s something that gets lost a lot in more traditional game development. Usually, when you make a “classic” game, you have to plan everything in advance. You have this pre-production phase where you lay out all the steps of the project.
And in a studio setting, that makes sense—making a game is expensive, so you have to plan. But even with all that planning, many games end up taking longer than expected. When you’re on your own, it’s different. You have the luxury of experimenting, of trying things out spontaneously. You can have an idea, even if you know it means erasing days of work… And you do it anyway, because it feels right.
It’s a luxury you can only afford when you’re a solo developer. As soon as you start working in a team, it gets more complicated. You have to explain your changes and keep everyone else informed. But I want to preserve that creative freedom at all costs. I think that’s what gives a project its personality. And that’s how I want to continue working on my projects.
PnT: I’d like to talk a little more about your artistic and architectural influences. What attracted you to brutalism in particular? What really spoke to you about it?
Moshe : I think that’s an important question to ask. There are many aspects that continue to fascinate me about this particular architectural movement, and also about how it’s translated into video games. I think I can break it down into several answers. First, it’s a very practical aesthetic to use. It works extremely well as level design, precisely because it doesn’t hide behind details or embellishments. Instead of masking the effectiveness of your level design with frills, it reduces everything to its most raw form: light, shadow, and the initial volumes that guide the player.
It forces you to focus on the essentials: how to offer the player an interesting journey using the simplest blocks possible. Everything takes on a new importance: verticality, variation in space, transitions between narrow, immense, oppressive, open… It almost becomes a painter’s palette.
And then there’s the aspect of brutalism in real life. What appeals to me is that many people find it “ugly.” And I’ve always been fascinated by what is considered ugly, especially in architecture. I love the contrast: a building that seems completely out of context, out of place, but which attracts the eye precisely because of that. Brutalism is also about showing the material as it is, concrete, without paint, without a facade. What other types of architecture hide, it exposes. It’s honest. It doesn’t hide its guts or its flaws. And for me, that’s a beautiful metaphor for what I try to do with my games.
I want to incorporate this philosophy into my work because it fits perfectly with my approach. And what I’ve just said is only a glimpse of everything that makes brutalism a recurring theme in my creations.
PnT: I saw in other interviews that you mentioned Blade Runner as one of your influences. I understand why, there’s an obvious connection, not only with brutalism, but also with the architecture of the city, the overall atmosphere…
Moshe: Yes, there’s definitely something going on underneath, a kind of effect that’s hard to explain, but that some people feel deeply. It’s that atmosphere, that feeling of being in another world, bigger than yourself. A monumental space, almost sacred, like a cathedral or a megastructure. It’s something that transcends the human. You can’t grasp its magnitude. You’re there, tiny in the face of something incomprehensible, immense.
PnT: You’re almost afraid of what you see. That’s a bit what you did with Neo-Brutalism of Tomorrow, exploring a futuristic vision of brutalism, even though this style already seems to come from the future, even if it’s often associated with the 1980s or the USSR. With this game, how did you imagine the evolution of this type of architecture? How could you make it even more futuristic than it already is?
Moshe: Yes, this project is directly related to what I was talking about earlier, my childhood memories of museums. Especially empty museums, when there weren’t many people around.
When you’re away from your family and find yourself wandering through the corridors. It’s a very strange experience, but a memorable one. I don’t know why, but it always made a deep impression on me. That’s exactly what I wanted to capture in Neo-Brutalism of Tomorrow. It’s not just the work on display that interests you, but the architecture itself, the space you’re exploring. It becomes the main experience. Every now and then you come across an installation, a work in this imaginary museum, and it stimulates your curiosity in a different way.
I called the game Neo-Brutalism because I wanted to move beyond the historical term brutalism. It’s a very loaded word, linked to 1960s modernism and Soviet architecture. And I think you have to be careful when you use it, there are a lot of layers, a lot of connotations. I’m not saying that this past isn’t important, but I’m not a historian or a researcher. My knowledge comes mainly from what I’ve read online. So I don’t have the legitimacy to delve into history with any precision. What I’m trying to do is preserve the atmosphere, the feel of brutalism, but in a new digital context. Give it another foundation, another home. Detach it a little from its history to give it a new form of existence.
PnT: Can you tell me a little more about Fugue in Void? How did the idea come about? What did you want to achieve with this project?
Moshe: It was my first “commercial” game in the sense that, for the first time, I put a price on it. Today, it’s free on itch, but when it came out, I published it on Steam with a price tag, which I had never done before. And that was an experience in itself, because the audience on Steam is very different from the audience on itch.io, for example. It wasn’t a shock, but it took some strength to read some of the reviews on Steam. But at the same time, I was ready. I think what I really wanted to accomplish with Fugue in Void was to set a kind of benchmark, for myself, but also for people interested in this type of experience.
Right from the start, the game begins with a very long cutscene with very little interaction. The images change slowly and require a lot of patience. It was a way of making a statement in the video game landscape, of opening the door to what I call “ambient games” or “slow games.” Games that, from the outset, ask you to slow down, to step out of the constant flow of information we’re used to.
That was really the main idea: to play with expectations, but also to bring something new to the landscape. And when you think about the content of the game, it can almost be read as a kind of creation story, a story of genesis. It starts with a singularity, and then it evolves, image after image, idea after idea, always connected to the same source: the artist.
I wanted to see who would resonate with that. And I deliberately avoided making the game accessible to everyone. I was trying, in a way, to naturally filter out the people who would recognize themselves in this type of experience. And it worked pretty well. There are people who can’t do anything with it and leave after a few minutes. And for me, that’s exactly what should happen. But on the other hand, there are those who are deeply moved. Even today, I still receive messages from people telling me how emotionally affected they were by the experience. And that’s what keeps me going. It shows me that these experiences speak to a very small audience, but that it’s precisely for them that I create them.
The entire game contains virtually no text, apart from the intro and the ending. It communicates in an emotional, almost transcendental way. It evokes heavy things, but leaves it up to each person to project their own interpretations onto it, in their own subconscious. And I think you can only really understand it if you’re on the same wavelength as me. And when those people come to me, we talk, they stay in my community, on Twitter or elsewhere, those are very precious moments. That’s exactly why the game was worth making.
PnT: You mentioned creating interactive installations or experiences for exhibitions. How is it for you, from a creative point of view, to see people interacting live with what you created at A Maze?
Moshe : It was very special. The A Maze festival in Berlin meant a lot to me. It’s one thing to interact online with people who are interested in this very specific type of game. But it’s another, even more powerful thing to meet them in real life, talk to them, and form connections. Some of them have become close friends. A Maze was a really important step for me. But I also had this dream of giving something back to the community. A Maze taught me a lot, not only about the community itself, but also about politics and what it means to exist in a very specific environment. All of that helped me grow and develop.
So I wanted to give something back. And I came up with an idea during the pandemic. It was at a time when the festival couldn’t take place physically. So we imagined an online space, a place where people could meet, chat, and hang out together despite the distance. That’s where the idea was born. And as is often the case in my work, it happened very fluidly, spontaneously. We connected with each other, everyone contributed their ideas. Everyone helped as best they could: some with the network programming, others in other areas. What I could contribute was the architecture.
When you design a space to accommodate people, you have to think about how they will move around, where they will meet, and how everything will flow. So it was a real testing ground for me, putting my knowledge of level design and architecture to the test in a context where several people are interacting at the same time. And what’s crazy is how much architecture in video games and architecture in “real life” have in common. What you learn in architecture school can be applied to level design, and vice versa.
So yes, it was a great opportunity. And also a way to step outside my comfort zone. Because in all my games, you’re alone. There are no characters to talk to, no social interaction. And here, on the contrary, I could move towards something more playful, even more positive, both visually and emotionally. It was very liberating to work on that. And I’m really grateful to have been able to participate in this project.
PnT: Do you think you’ll do this kind of interactive exhibition again in the future? Not necessarily with A Maze, but would you consider working with museums, for example?
Moshe : Yes. One of my biggest ambitions is to explore the medium of gaming more in the context of art. I’d like games to be more recognized as something you can also see in an exhibition. I think we’re still in the early stages: you sometimes see games in exhibitions, but it’s still rare. And I think there’s huge potential, but also a lot of challenges. First of all, in the art world, especially in galleries, a video game isn’t a physical object, it’s not a product that can be easily sold. With a painting or a sculpture, it’s simpler: collectors and wealthy people like to own things.
Another problem I’ve noticed, even at A Maze, is the time a game requires. Some are very calm, very contemplative… but in an exhibition space, you don’t always have time to experience them in their entirety. And if you really want to immerse yourself, you have to sit there for half an hour, which isn’t ideal in this context, especially if you want a lot of people to enjoy it.
So I think one solution would be to create specific works for the exhibition. Adapt the piece to the venue, to the situation. Not all games are made for this context. And then there’s also a barrier of understanding: in a traditional museum, many people who aren’t familiar with games can’t get into them, if only because of the controls. So to create a real symbiosis between art and play, we need to think differently about interactive experiences. We need to dissect the medium, understand what makes an experience memorable, what makes people want to play.
I would really like to collaborate more with exhibition spaces, or even organize my own installations in the long run. But for that, you need funding and time. And those are two things I don’t have right now. That said, it’s a goal that will always remain important to me, because making games is great, but it ties you to a desk. You don’t see people’s faces, you don’t feel their reaction directly. Exhibitions are different: you go out and meet a wide variety of audiences. You talk to people you would never have met otherwise. And at the end, you see their reactions, you see their faces. And I want more of that. It’s something I’d really like to develop.
PnT: In your opinion, what are the advantages and challenges of being a solo dev?
Moshe: I think anyone with a very strong vision inevitably has difficulty working with others. It’s hard to find a compromise between two visions. Learning to compromise has been a real learning experience for me. Today I work with other people, but it took me a long time to get there. It’s not just a question of creative stubbornness, but also of communication, knowing how to explain to others what you’re doing and where you want to go.
When you’re solo, you do what you want, you don’t bother anyone. But when you work in a team, you have to communicate a lot. It’s something I had to learn, but it also has a lot of advantages. Working alone gives you enormous freedom: you move at your own pace and do what you want. But working with others is also wonderful—especially when you find the right person, someone you trust and have a real connection with. It’s almost like a friendship.
And in that case, you can be completely honest. You bounce feedback back and forth like a game of ping-pong. I found this person, and it’s great to have frank exchanges, to point out things to each other that we would have missed on our own. So yes, I really appreciate both approaches. Working in a team teaches you a lot, things you would never learn on your own. At the same time, working alone is almost meditative. You’re alone in your own world, hyper-focused. It’s a balance that I really like.
PnT: From a more technical or organizational point of view, how do you manage your time when you’re working alone on a project? Do you use any specific tools?
Moshe: I’m very chaotic. When I work alone, I mainly use a notebook to jot down my ideas. I’ve tried sticking Post-its on the walls, but I can’t stick to it. When I work in a team, yes, I need a framework, tools, and structure, otherwise it doesn’t work.
But when I’m on my own, I really work on instinct. I work when I feel the need to, without any time constraints. I try to write everything down so I don’t forget, but my focus changes all the time. You get caught up in a small detail, you work on it for a few days, then you go back to your main project. And for me, being rather chaotic, tools that are too “professional” would put me in a box. And that box would prevent me from moving forward. What I do is based on an intuitive approach.
PnT: Is there a recent work, whether it’s a book, a film, or a game, that has particularly inspired you? Something you’ve discovered, seen, read, played… and in which you felt potential to feed into your work or a future creation?
Moshe: I’m a big movie fan. I watch a lot of movies, but in reality, what inspires me most isn’t necessarily movies… It’s more works of art, artists. When something interests me, I tend to dive right in, wanting to learn everything about the person, the artist behind the work. Recently, I’ve been really interested in the minimalist movement of the 1960s, especially in New York. I think there are a lot of parallels with the experimental gaming scene: a movement that’s a bit hidden, but very connected.
Artists like Donald Judd inspire me a lot, not just their work, but also their way of thinking, their approach to the world. Judd, for example, tries to remove the context around his works, to get rid of labels. He made both furniture and sculptures, but for him, his sculptures were also architecture, because they are designed according to the environment in which they are placed, like a building.
His sculptures are always connected to light, to the conditions of the place where they are exhibited. And that has had a profound impact on me. There are always those moments when I discover an artist, a work, an exhibition, and I immerse myself completely in it. I love going to museums and seeing new things. I think it’s essential to step outside your comfort zone. And I think that’s something that particularly applies to game developers: we often find ourselves in a bubble where we mainly look at what other game creators are doing. But I’ve always found my greatest inspiration by looking elsewhere. By going to an exhibition, a concert, or a movie. Even if it’s not directly related to video games, it triggers ideas and gives you a whole new perspective. So yes, I really recommend stepping outside your comfort zone.