I make "queer" games, both in the literal and more broad interpretation. Obviously, that means characters that are gay telling gay stories, but for me that runs a bit deeper.
I'm very against the idea of mass media that targets "everyone". For me, the more you try to appeal to this non-existent "everyone", the more your Self is lost in the art you make. You have to gut the parts advertisers won't like, chop off the bits that you think might be embarrassing, declaw and de-tooth it, shave off any apparent imperfections that would make people point and laugh because [other] media looks much prettier, to the point you're saying nothing at all. Then, ultimately, you have watered down mush that brings nothing of artistic value to the world. It's not human anymore; it's mass-produced and offers nothing different than all the other mass-produced trends that came before it.
On the flip side, by fully devoting yourself to a weird and fucked up idea, to put your entire faith into a story you want to tell, to never apologise for it, you suddenly make something interesting. It's now an earnest and alive Thing, and something that no-one else can make, because you didn't compromise on the Self that's now part of it. And, consider the adage of: "Holy shit, a cake without frosting!" This approach means you miss out on some people, but so what? Humanity isn't a monolith, and trying to treat it as one is one of the great faults of new creatives. Because humanity is not monolithic, you can produce practically anything, and someone will love what you've done.
Paradoxically, by never caring about whether or not what you make is Other'd or "queer", you do create something that can (hypothetically) appeal to everyone, by nature of it being so earnest and speaking to human empathy. It's a bit like the Chris Fleming school of comedy. That being, you can make a joke so hyper-specific to one sort of person that it wraps around on itself and kills the entire room.
So, that's my brand. Games for exactly 3 people to lose their minds.