Ex-Take-Two CEO on the Future of Games and the Intersection of AI and Creativity
Ben Feder’s résumé reads like the closing credits of a gaming documentary. Former CEO of Take-Two Interactive during the golden age of Grand Theft Auto and Red Dead Redemption. Former President of International Partnerships at Tencent. Board member at Epic and Bad Robot. A veteran of Wall Street, Hollywood, and Silicon Valley, the creative, the corporate, and the philosopher.
And yet, at this stage of his career, Feder has decided to start again. This time, respawning as a venture capitalist.
Not because he has to, but because he wants to.
“I realized that eventually, as an operator in a creative business, I would age out,” Feder told me. “But investing is something I can do for the rest of my career. But I don’t see myself in the venture capital business. I’m in the mentoring business. I just monetize it through venture capital.”
His new(ish) firm, Tirta Ventures (founded in 2022 by Ben and his co-founder Justin Yuan), is a fund focusing on the intersection of AI and gaming, a place Feder calls “the most exciting corner of technology today.”
But with so many funds chasing gaming, why another one?
Why Another Gaming Fund?
Feder’s answer is disarmingly simple: operational experience.
Most gaming-focused VCs are financial engineers, ex-bankers and consultants with models, but without the calloused hands. Few have actually built a game, run a P&L, or watched a launch implode in real time.
“When I sit on a board, I’m usually the only person who’s actually built or run a company,” Feder said. “Everyone else is finance. Some don’t even speak. Entrepreneurs notice that. They crave operational judgment.”
In an industry where investors’ “value add” has been watered down to introductions, Feder’s version means something different. It means telling a founder what not to do because he’s made that mistake himself.
And unlike the mega-funds with $500 million to deploy and expensive in-house marketing, talent and corporate development teams that act like mini-publishers, Tirta’s ambition is narrower but sharper:
Find founders who understand that the next revolution in games will be about intelligence. Not pixels and platforms.
Venture Capital vs. Private Equity
Feder has lived on both sides of the table. He ran a private equity portfolio. Now he runs a venture fund. The difference, he says, is about the spirit rather than the stage.
Private equity buys certainty; venture capital bets on potential.
“Venture capital looks like gambling from the outside,” he admits. “But the good ones aren’t guessing, they’re thematically driven. We know what we’re looking for.”
Tirta focuses on three buckets: content, tools, and infrastructure, all increasingly intertwined with AI. And Feder’s view is clear: the coming decade will reward investors who are directionally right, not microscopically precise.
“You don’t need to hit the bullseye,” he said. “You just need to be in the right zip code.”
That “zip code” at the intersection of AI and interactive entertainment is where he believes the next multi-billion-dollar companies will emerge.
But the AI Bubble?
Is AI a bubble? Feder laughs at the question.
“A bubble is about valuation, not opportunity,” he said. “Yes, it’s expensive. But for the kind of founders we back, it’s a gift. Hundreds of billions of dollars are being spent by the hyperscalers, and startups get to use that technology for free.”
That, he argues, is the greatest arbitrage in history: massive corporate R&D subsidizing the dreams of small teams.
Feder sees AI’s impact on games as analogous to the invention of photography in the 19th century.
“When cameras arrived, painters asked, ‘What do we paint now?’ And that question gave us modern art.”
AI, he believes, will do the same for games.
Which Countries Are Hot, and Which Ones Are Cooling Off
Feder is bullish, but not naïve. He knows not every studio can adapt to this new era.
“The question is whether incumbents can embrace the change faster than startups can gain distribution,” he said. “There are structural reasons why they can’t.”
In other words, the disruptors are coming, and many will be born outside the traditional hubs.
Roughly a third of Tirta’s portfolio is international. Feder points to Turkey, Australia, and emerging markets like Pakistan and Brazil, regions where hunger outweighs comfort.
“In the U.S., failure is survivable,” he said. “In some of these countries, it isn’t. This is their one shot. They work harder. The next great studio could come from anywhere, because talent is now global.”
He’s also candid about which regions are cooling off: mature Western markets where high salaries and low urgency have eroded the creative edge.
“It’s almost impossible to build a AAA game in the U.S. cost-effectively anymore,” he said. “AI might offset some of that, but not enough.”
The Next Wave of Breakout Studios
If Feder is right, the next great studios will look nothing like the last.
They’ll be smaller, faster, and deeply technical, a hybrid of artist and engineer.
He’s already seeing prototypes: single-player MMOs populated by intelligent NPCs that can simulate millions of human players. Virtual worlds that no longer require humans to fill them.
“We think of it as the video game Turing test,” Feder explained. “Can you tell an NPC from a human? The time when you can’t is around the corner.”
This, he says, will create entirely new categories of experience, not just games, but interactive worlds that compete directly in the attention economy.
Philosophical Musing: The Myth of “Operational VC”
After I chatted with Ben, the idea of operational lingered in my head much more than his optimistic take on the AI (I actually agree with that).
You see, back when I was raising funds for my startup, I turned down an investment from a prominent fund because the partners were positioning themselves as operators who’d be “in the trenches” with me. That sounded like getting a bunch of Californian executives. Having had some, I wasn’t excited for more.
That particular fund doesn’t advertise itself as an operator anymore. They’ve grown out of it. And I presume that the same will happen to TIRTA as well.
The way I see it, every new venture fund begins with the partners stepping onto the stage, sleeves rolled up, promising they’re different. They’re operators. They’ve been in the trenches. They’ll bring “real value,” not just capital and introductions. And for a while, it kinda works.
The partners are fresh out of successful exits or high-profile exec roles, still carrying the adrenaline of product launches and quarterly battles. They remember the chaos of building, and they want to stay close to it.
But the laws of scale always catch up. One fund later, the calendar looks different. Thirty portfolio companies, a hundred monthly updates, five thousand Slack pings, and a steady stream of fundraising emails. Every founder wants input. Every company needs time. After all, that’s what you promised them.
At that point comes the evolution for every single successful fund. The pitch deck slides change from “we’re an operational fund” to “we back exceptional founders.” Not because they’ve lost the will to help, but because that’s the model that actually scales. You can’t operate what you don’t control, and meddling in what you don’t fully see is more likely to create chaos than clarity. The best founders don’t need a shadow COO; they need conviction, capital, and space to execute.
If you ask me, the trenches should be reserved only for those who actually fight in them.
