MindsEye's Collapse: Layoffs, Sabotage Claims, and the Unraveling of Build a Rocket Boy

From Rockstar Dreams to Catastrophic Launch

Build a Rocket Boy launched with a pedigree that commanded attention. Leslie Benzies’ departure from Rockstar Games in 2016 was shrouded in a bitter legal dispute, and BARB was his chance to build a new empire. The studio’s dual-project vision—Everywhere as a creative platform and MindsEye as a premium, story-driven action-adventure within it—was audacious. Hype built over years, fueled by the team's legacy and teasers of a visually stunning, AI-driven world.

However, behind the sleek trailers, reports from former developers suggested a project straining under its own ambition. The bifurcated focus between building the foundational Everywhere platform and the bespoke MindsEye game reportedly led to scope creep, constant feature shifts, and significant technical hurdles as the team worked on a new engine simultaneously. This turbulent development phase set the stage for what was to come.

The reality of MindsEye’s launch in June 2025 was devastating. The game was immediately panned by critics and players alike. Reviews described a "catastrophic disaster," riddled with game-breaking bugs, nonsensical AI behavior, severe performance issues, and a litany of technical failures. The launch was so troubled that sponsored marketing streams were canceled at the last minute. The player response was brutal, cementing MindsEye as one of the most high-profile flops of the year.

The direct consequence was swift and severe. Within weeks, BARB initiated its first major round of layoffs, letting go of roughly 300 staff from its UK offices. The dream had crashed into reality, and the first wave of human cost was counted. The studio’s grand ambition had resulted in a product that was fundamentally broken at launch, a failure from which it would never recover.

The CEO's Conspiracy Theory

As the dust settled, CEO Mark Gerhard began constructing a counter-narrative. Instead of internal post-mortems, the studio’s leadership pointed an unwavering finger outward. Gerhard and Benzies have persistently claimed that MindsEye’s failure was the direct result of "organized espionage and corporate sabotage."

The allegations, while persistent, have been notably vague and unverified. In a May 2025 Discord interaction, Gerhard suggested negative reactions to early footage were financially backed. Later, in an internal meeting, he allegedly claimed a "very big American company" paid UK-based Ritual Network over $1.1 million in 2025 to sabotage the launch. In January 2026, the rhetoric targeted a YouTuber, Cyber Boi, with a cease-and-desist letter accusing him of "media manipulation, espionage, [and] sabotage," allegedly via leaks from BARB employees.

The narrative reached a new peak with Gerhard’s March 2026 statement. He claimed the studio now possessed "overwhelming evidence" of criminal activity, gathered with external partners and legal advisors, and that the matter was "moving toward prosecution." Notably, no entity has been publicly named, no evidence presented, and no charges filed. As part of this internal hunt, management reportedly installed monitoring software on employee PCs without prior notification—a move that speaks to a climate of deep internal suspicion.

Internal Strife and Management Controversy

The sabotage narrative stands in stark contrast to accounts from former staff and observable management patterns. Multiple reports from ex-employees describe a studio plagued by micromanagement, enforced crunch, and a toxic work environment. The handling of the initial 2025 layoffs was itself a point of controversy, described by some as poorly managed and insensitive.

The March 2026 layoffs, for which an exact number was not confirmed, were framed by Gerhard as a response to the "difficult launch" and a tough industry climate. However, to many observers, it represented a continuation of a pattern stemming from the game’s own failings, not external actors.

Compounding the studio’s crises are the serious, unrelated allegations against founder Leslie Benzies. Named in the released Jeffrey Epstein files, an unnamed alleged victim accused Benzies of sexual assault in an email—an accusation he has denied. As of early 2026, Benzies is on "well-earned temporary leave," leaving Gerhard as the sole public-facing leader.

The development community’s reaction to Gerhard’s public statements has been largely critical. His LinkedIn post announcing the latest layoffs while reiterating sabotage claims was labeled by peers as "incredibly rude" and "delusional," seen as blaming shadowy forces rather than taking responsibility.

The Aftermath and an Uncertain Future

The current state of MindsEye is a monument to the disaster. Despite post-launch support, including a free starter pack trial, the game is effectively dead. Steam player counts tell the story: as of early 2026, reports showed peaks as low as 11 concurrent players, with a 24-hour peak of just 39. For a AAA-level production, these numbers are functionally zero.

This reality makes the studio’s recent actions seem paradoxical. BARB has announced a "new phase of ongoing development" for MindsEye and continues to issue updates for a game with no audience. This dissonance raises serious questions about strategy and resource allocation.

The sustained sabotage narrative creates a toxic cycle. For remaining employees, it fosters a climate of paranoia and deflects from addressing core developmental issues. For potential investors or partners, it presents a leadership team that attributes catastrophic failure to external conspiracies rather than execution. The studio’s ability to recruit top talent and secure funding for future projects—including the still-theoretical Everywhere platform—is severely compromised.

The ultimate question is whether Build a Rocket Boy can survive this compounded fallout. It faces the commercial corpse of its first game, successive talent exoduses via layoffs, a founder embroiled in separate serious allegations, and a CEO whose public stance is increasingly viewed as unhinged by the industry it needs to engage with.

The primary narrative of Build a Rocket Boy's collapse is one of managerial missteps, a profoundly flawed product, and a toxic cycle of blame. The sabotage claims, lacking public proof, function as a dramatic shield against the hard truths of development overreach and operational failure. The real cost is human: hundreds of careers disrupted and talent scattered. The saga of BARB serves as a stark, human-cost reminder: in an industry obsessed with revolutionary platforms and metaverse dreams, the oldest failures—mismanagement, overreach, and a refusal to accept accountability—remain the most devastating.