Slipknot's Co-Founder: Building Games Like You Build a Band
Key takeaways by Jen Donahoe, founder of JadeInferno Consulting and host of the Deconstructor of Fun podcast, with one of metal's most creative minds on building Vernearth and what the industry gets wrong about working with artists.
When Shawn "Clown" Crahan joined the Deconstructor of Fun podcast, I expected to talk about Vernearth, his ambitious new multi-mode Minecraft realm. What I got instead was a masterclass in what the game industry fundamentally misunderstands about creative collaboration.
A quick introduction for those unfamiliar: Clown is the co-founder and percussionist of Grammy-winning metal band Slipknot, and the creative force behind the band's iconic masks and visual identity.
But here's what surprised me: his gaming credentials run deeper than most industry veterans. He was modding Quake when id Software released OpenGL in the 90s, building in Unity's early creator marketplace, and has been developing Vernearth for four years. This isn't a celebrity vanity project; it's the work of someone who's been in the trenches of game creation for three decades.
Takeaway 1: Stop Treating Artists Like They Don't Understand Business
"Anything worth doing is worth doing for money. Because none of what I'm doing is free. I think people would be very surprised if I told them what I have gotten into this."
There's a persistent assumption in the industry that creative types don't grasp commercial realities. Clown dismantles this: he asks "good questions," ensures "the business is good so it can stay open for everyone," and approaches development with the same rigor any studio founder would. All while also worrying about security, moderation, and sustainability.
The lesson: Artists who build their own projects aren't naive about money. They've often invested heavily both financially and emotionally. Meet them as business partners, not talent to be managed.
Takeaway 2: The "$25 Million Wall" Is Killing Innovation
"It's always the same story. They don't even want to talk about the idea unless I have $25 million and two years to get started... Hey, I agree. I know you're not wrong, but you didn't even want to hear the idea."
This barrier can filter out unconventional ones. The result? "You're going to go with something you think is going to win. Good luck with that. I'm not going to buy it because it's going to be like everything else."
The lesson: Create pathways for creative conversations that don't require artists to clear financial hurdles first. You might discover ideas that don't fit your existing categories, which is exactly the point.
Takeaway 3: Remove the Fences From the Creative Process
"The number one problem between the left and the right brain is the limits. Why do the fences go up? Is it that the artist is not focused, can't multitask... doesn't understand the fundamental object of money?"
He's not arguing against constraints. He understands deadlines and budgets. But he draws a clear line: "Get out of the consciousness and the subconscious of the color of the art, because it's what's driving the whole program."
The lesson: Separate creative exploration from production constraints. Let ideas develop before applying business filters. Let the artist breathe.
Takeaway 4: Revision Is Everything
"Revision, I use that word a lot. Not only does it get you right where you need to be, but it also keeps you loose to not having expectations of anything."
Nothing is precious. Everything evolves. This philosophy applies equally to game mechanics, visual design, and business strategy.
The lesson: Build iteration into your collaboration structure. Don't expect (or demand) final answers in early conversations.
Takeaway 5: Authenticity Is the Only Currency That Matters
Perhaps the most powerful insight came when Clown explained his relationship with Slipknot's fanbase and why it transfers to Vernearth:
"I don't make music for the culture. I don't make music for another band member or a label... We make it for ourselves. And because we do that for ourselves first... the culture learns very quickly they can trust us. Because I'm not doing anything for anybody else but me. And if I'm doing it for me, you can trust me."
This is why his culture "will turn their backs on the industry all the time because it's apparent what these certain people's criteria are. You can smell it."
The lesson: Fans, whether of bands or games, detect inauthenticity instantly. Collaborations that feel like marketing exercises rather than genuine creative partnerships will fail. The artist has to believe in it, or no one else will.
Takeaway 6: Be the Scout
Clown's most pointed critique was also his most actionable: "I wish the industry would send their scouts out. Doesn't EA have a scout that's supposed to knock on my door?"
In music, A&R representatives used to visit venues looking for talent. Gaming has no equivalent infrastructure for discovering creative voices operating outside traditional channels.
The lesson: Don't wait for artists to navigate your pitch process. Actively seek out creators who are already building interesting things in adjacent spaces.
Philosophical Musing: Faith and How to Earn It
What Clown ultimately exposes is a quiet contradiction at the heart of the modern game industry: we claim to value creativity, yet we tend to systematically design processes that neutralize it. We celebrate originality while demanding proof of scale before proof of soul.
His worldview is uncomfortable precisely because it refuses the false dichotomy between art and business. Creation, to him, is disciplined. It is revised, funded, defended, and protected from premature optimization.
The deepest insight here isn’t about Minecraft realms or metal masks; it’s about trust.
Trusting creators to understand consequences. Trusting ideas before spreadsheets. Trusting that authenticity, when given room to breathe, compounds in ways no deck can model.
In an industry obsessed with control, Clown is arguing for something far more radical: faith. And not a blind faith supported by an open checkbook and infinite timelines. But the type of faith that is earned, iterative, and grounded in the long arc of making things that actually matter.
I think we can all attest to that.
