After months of speculation, suspicious tweets, and oddly consistent LinkedIn profiles, it turns out Sweet Baby Inc. never existed. That’s right—no offices, no employees, not even a hastily Photoshopped logo slapped onto a WeWork door. It was all a beautifully executed fiction, like the moon landing or balanced game design.

The Ghost in the Narrative Machine

Industry insiders began noticing something odd earlier this year: every time a major studio released a game with, let’s say, “narrative choices that make Reddit implode,” Sweet Baby Inc. got mentioned. Almost like a whisper campaign or the narrative design version of Kaiser Soze. But after a few too many “collaborated with Sweet Baby” credits and zero sign of payroll, someone finally asked: where is this company?

Turns out, it’s nowhere. The address listed on their website leads to a parking lot in Montreal. The company’s phone number routes to a 24-hour hot dog stand in Winnipeg. And every person claiming to work there? Actors. Or in some cases, developers who swore they just “liked the aesthetic.”

Games Are Real. Sweet Baby Is Not.

Here’s the kicker: the games Sweet Baby was supposedly attached to? Very real. Very shipped. Some were even good. But when devs were pressed on what the mysterious company actually did, answers ranged from “consulted on tone” to “helped us understand our protagonist’s emotional arc through interpretive dance.” So yeah, nothing that couldn’t be done in a spirited Slack channel at 2 a.m.

So What Was the Point?

If you ask us (which you didn’t, but you’re here), Sweet Baby Inc. was performance art. A metacommentary on how games are made, credited, and mythologized. Or maybe it was a marketing experiment that spun out of control. Either way, it’s gone now—deleted faster than a controversial patch note.

In its place? A lingering sense of confusion, a dozen unfinished think-pieces, and a new genre of video essay: “The Curious Case of a Studio That Never Was.”