7 Hard Truths I Learned Running a Gaming Community for 13 Years

TL;DR: I started a gaming community in a dorm room in 2013. It grew to thousands of members, but I made massive mistakes. Here is what I wish I knew about leadership, culture, and burnout before I started.

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I started my journey in 2013 in a college dorm room. Grand Theft Auto 5 had just released, and the online component was a mess—full of toxic teenagers and griefers. I didn’t want that to ruin the experience, so I started my own group.

What began as a small GTA crew blossomed into a full-fledged community hosting thousands of people, events, podcasts, and live streams. I’ve run this gaming community for over 13 years, and despite the hurdles, it is still kicking and thriving.

However, the road wasn't smooth. There were massive setbacks. If I could roll back the hands of time, here are the 7 major things I wish I could tell my younger self.

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1. People Will Come and Go 👋

Sometimes members leave because of something you did. Other times, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. They get bored, they have a falling out with another member, or life just gets in the way.

This was the hardest lesson for me in the beginning. I would develop genuine friendships with members. Then, I’d wake up one day, and—poof—they were gone. No explanation, no warning.

💡 The Lesson:
As a leader, you have to take a step back. Don't become so entangled that a departure ruins your morale. Not everyone is in it for the long haul. If someone wants to leave, let them go. Never coerce someone into staying.

2. Community Leadership is a Thankless Job 📉

When things are running smoothly, people won’t say much. They will join, assimilate, and have fun. But if one thing goes wrong? Be prepared for a barrage of comments telling you exactly how you should be doing a better job.

I have spent an unfathomable amount of hours building, tweaking, and perfecting everything from video promotions to game servers. People will often join, take what serves them, and bail. You will be lucky to get so much as a "thank you."

Case in point: A few years ago, a couple met on my server and eventually got married in real life. They lived in my area. I didn't get a "thanks for creating the space where I found the love of my life," nor was I invited to the wedding. It sounds pessimistic, but it is human nature. They are there for the utility you provide, not necessarily to celebrate the builder.

3. Everyone Thinks They Can Do It Better 📢

Over the years, I’ve seen members take the blueprint I built to start their own groups, only to fail. I’ve had members lie to sabotage my reputation so they could poach members. I’ve heard statements like:

"If I ran this community, I would do X, Y, and Z."

People always underestimate how hard running a big community actually is.

💡 The Lesson:
Don’t let armchair quarterbacks convince you that you’re doing a bad job. If they could do it better than you, they would already be doing it.

4. Recognize "Consumers" vs. "Producers" Early ⚖️

You can generally break your members down into two categories:

• The Consumers: They are here for a good time. They show up to events and participate in chat, but they are generally there to take value from the community.
• The Producers: These people naturally help out. They go out of their way to welcome newbies. They find ways to contribute value without being asked.

Recognize the Producers FAST.

I dropped the ball on this in the genesis of my community. I was so wrapped up in being friends with the guys I played with—choosing people I liked over people who contributed—that I ended up with 15 staff members who were just there for the vibes. This completely backfired later on.

5. Have an End-Goal (And Align Your Staff) 🎯

I started my community as a GTA Online Crew with no real vision other than "I want something greater." I spun my wheels for years trying to capitalize on new niches just to keep it all going.

Because there was no ultimate goal, my staff had nothing to work toward. It was an aimless, and sometimes reckless, journey.

💡 The Lesson:
Always ask yourself: What do you want this community to become? What should it produce? Without a North Star, you are just drifting.

6. Culture Matters: You Set the Energy ⚡

The biggest mistake I made was not paying attention to the energy I was projecting.

At one point, I became bitter about the gaming landscape. I was pessimistic, and that bled into my interactions. I remember saying, "I don't bother welcoming new members because they will just leave anyway."

Guess what happened? The members adopted that mentality. The group became unwelcoming and cliquish. New members would join, get ignored, and leave.

It got so bad that I felt like an outsider in my own group. I eventually had to take the nuclear route—I wiped my staff completely and let chaos ensue to reset the culture. It was an extreme measure that could have been avoided had I cultivated positivity from the start.

7. Ask Yourself: "What Am I Getting Out of This?" 🤔

I poured time, money, and energy into this group for 10 years before I realized that everyone was benefiting... except me.

If you are building a community, you need to be selfish for a moment. Why are you doing this? What is your return on investment (whether that's joy, money, connections, or career growth)?

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Moving Forward 🚀

Today, I am rebuilding. This time, I am intentional. I have clear objectives, a defined culture, and I know exactly why I am doing it.

If you are planning on building a group, learn from my 13 years of mistakes so you don't have to repeat them.

If you are curious about what we are building now, check out The Vice Community.