Three former execs at video games firm Ubisoft on trial in France
Three former top executives from French video game giant Ubisoft – the maker of games like Assassin's Creed and Far Cry - went on trial today.
Serge Hascoët, Thomas "Tommy" François and Guillaume Patrux appeared before the Bobigny criminal court on charges of psychological abuse, sexual harassment and attempted sexual assault.
The trial is due to continue until Friday. During the week, the judges will hear the accounts of six women and three men, as well as accusations made by two trade unions.
The defendants deny all the allegations against them.
The Ubisoft omerta began to break in 2020. Three years prior, a Ubisoft employee tried to report psychological harassment to his superiors. The response? 'You stop talking about this immediately. There's no problem at Ubisoft.'
But then came an in-depth investigation conducted by French publications Libération and Numerama. The examination revealed working conditions plagued by harassment, humiliation and discriminatory comments.
Ubisoft then launched an internal inquiry in 2020 after anonymous testimonies emerged on social media accusing the company of a toxic work culture.
Investigators spoke to dozens of witnesses during the probe, but "many refused to file a complaint for fear of reactions from the video game community.'
Still, the testimonies that poured in painted a damning picture of what went on behind the walls of the Ubisoft studios.
Serge Hascoët, 59, Ubisoft's chief creative officer and second-in-command, who resigned after the allegations, is accused of sexual harassment and bullying. He is also accused of making racist comments. He allegedly told staff that a senior employee was irritating because she did not have enough sex and that he should have sex with her in a meeting room in front of everyone 'to show how to calm her.'
Thomas François, 52, former vice-president of editorial and creative services, is accused of forcing a young employee he had just hired to do a headstand in the open-plan office while wearing a skirt. He is also alleged to have often watched pornographic films in the open-plan office and, at a 2015 office Christmas party, he allegedly tried to kiss a colleague on the mouth as his other colleagues restrained the woman. She said she managed to break free and felt 'traumatised' by the incident.
Former game director Patrux, 41, has been accused of psychological harassment and was dismissed for serious misconduct. He is alleged to have mimed hitting staff, cracked a whip near colleagues' faces and drawn swastikas on a woman's notebook as he sat near her in a meeting.
Other examples which allegedly took place under the complicit or indifferent eye of Ubisoft management include shameful examples of public humiliation. For instance, a young Muslim member of staff allegedly found her screensaver changed to an image of a bacon sandwich, while sandwiches were thrown at her during Ramadan.
Other women alleged to police that sexual comments were made regularly, that they were called 'sluts' and told to wear shorter skirts. One woman who wore a coat with red lining was allegedly told by an executive: 'That's an invitation to rape.'
This week's trial is a pivotal moment for the gaming industry, one hailed by some as a #MeToo moment in the video games "boys club". Indeed, the male-dominated video game publishing industry has been scrutinised for years over its treatment of women and minorities, as well as the way these groups are depicted in games.
However, there are those who feel that this week's trial is not enough.
'This trial could have been exemplary,' according to Marc Rutschlé, union delegate at Solidaires Informatique. He told L'Humanité: 'It wasn't three isolated individuals who created this atmosphere of widespread harassment. Their impunity was organised. There are no defendants and many victims. The whole structural aspect has been evacuated.'
Indeed, Ubisoft is taking great care to keep out of the trial as neither the human resources department, nor any representative of the company as a legal entity or its CEO Yves Guillemot, will be making an appearance in court.
Guillemot allegedly previously referred to some of the accusations as 'generational differences of opinion' and 'creative friction'.
The trial continues in Bobigny until Friday 6 June.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Fashion Network
3 hours ago
- Fashion Network
Elsewhere in Milan menswear: Ralph Lauren, Brioni, Corneliani, Church's
Easily the most elegant accessory display in Milan this weekend was at Church's, which welcomed people into the Piccolo Teatro Studio Melato, an avant-garde brick theatre with soaring tubular galleries. Pride of place went to a 1929 Shanghai model, first acquired in Cincinnati and donated to the brand by the son of a grateful customer. Designed as a halfway house between a tasselled golf shoe and a brogue, the original Shanghai No. 1 — carefully protected in a Perspex box — even had Church's logo cut-out soles. A look that helped inspire a great new selection of devilishly aged versions of the Shanghai for today. The key to any great pair of Church's is the brand's famed factory in Northampton, the shoemaking capital of the UK. Recently renovated, the plant is also the source of new shoes made in singular pieces of leather — where the pattern of wingtips is etched by lasers. Few shoe marques anywhere can provide the patina of a pair of Church's — a fact underlined by two gents hand-finishing some classic wingtips on the stage of the theatre. One trimmed the side with small sharp knives and sandpaper; the other applied French polish and mirror gloss from Saphir. Asked how best to shine a great pair of shoes, one gently explained: 'Actually, it's best to use old white T-shirts that have been washed plenty of times. The roughness and impurity are gone, and you get a great finish.' The perfect patina in the perfect Piccolo Teatro Studio Melato. Good to learn something useful every day.
Fashion Network
3 hours ago
- Fashion Network
Elsewhere in Milan menswear: Ralph Lauren, Brioni, Corneliani, Church's
Easily the most elegant accessory display in Milan this weekend was at Church's, which welcomed people into the Piccolo Teatro Studio Melato, an avant-garde brick theater with soaring tubular galleries. Pride of place went to a 1929 Shanghai model, first acquired in Cincinnati and donated to the brand by the son of a grateful customer. Designed as a halfway house between a tasseled golf shoe and a brogue, the original Shanghai No. 1 — carefully protected in a Perspex box — even had Church's logo cut-out soles. A look that helped inspire a great new selection of devilishly aged versions of the Shanghai for today. The key to any great pair of Church's is the brand's famed factory in Northampton, the shoemaking capital of the UK. Recently renovated, the plant is also the source of new shoes made in singular pieces of leather — where the pattern of wingtips is etched by lasers. Few shoe marques anywhere can provide the patina of a pair of Church's — a fact underlined by two gents hand-finishing some classic wingtips on the stage of the theatre. One trimmed the side with small sharp knives and sandpaper; the other applied French polish and mirror gloss from Saphir. Asked how best to shine a great pair of shoes, one gently explained: 'Actually, it's best to use old white T-shirts that have been washed plenty of times. The roughness and impurity are gone, and you get a great finish.' The perfect patina in the perfect Piccolo Teatro Studio Melato. Good to learn something useful every day.
France 24
5 hours ago
- France 24
Tracking down the pianos looted by the Nazis from Jewish families in France
In April 1945, having recently returned from Stalag II-B, a prisoner-of-war camp in Hammerstein, Germany, Benjamin Cohen learned that pianos stolen by the Nazis during the war had just been repatriated to France by the Allies. He immediately wrote to the office responsible for the restitution of looted property:"Having just been informed that there is now a service for the restitution of pianos looted – as well as furniture owned by Jews – during the Occupation, I have the honour of informing you that, as a Frenchman and prisoner of war, my apartment was completely emptied of its furniture on June 8, 1944. My wife, who was a piano teacher, had a piano made of a dark wood, which I believe to be mahogany, made by Pfeiffer." "I would like to add,' Cohen wrote, 'that I am awaiting the return of my wife, who was arrested on July 11, 1944. I can't imagine her coming home and not finding her piano." The looting of apartments This story is one of dozens that historian and archivist Caroline Piketty includes in her latest book, " Harmonies volées" (Stolen Harmonies), published by L'Archipel in May. While Piketty was working as a member of the Mattéoli Mission, which was set up in 1997 to study the despoliation of French Jews, she came across a file on pianos stolen by German occupying forces. "I was very surprised. I knew about the looting of apartments in broad terms, but I had no idea that the restitution service had done such a great deal of work on these instruments.' By going through the letters written in the spring of 1945 by French citizens making claims for looted property, Piketty was able to trace some of the extraordinary journeys taken by these pianos. They began being seized in the autumn of 1940 when a special commando unit, the " Sonderstab Musik", made up of eminent German musicologists, was tasked with locating instruments. From 1942 onwards, another unit responsible for plunder, "Möbel Aktion" (Furniture Action) began the systematic looting of the homes of arrested Jewish families. In France, more than 40,000 apartments were emptied of their belongings. "Rail freight cars loaded with ordinary pianos were shipped to Germany to replace instruments in homes damaged by air raids," Piketty noted. "Valuable pianos were often kept in Paris by the Germans, in hotels they occupied, while others were transported to Berlin for high-ranking Nazi dignitaries." A total of 8,000 pianos are believed to have been stolen. Some were taken from prominent personalities like former French Prime Minister Léon Blum, publisher Gaston Calmann-Lévy and equestrian Béatrice de Camondo, while others were stolen from ordinary citizens with a passion for music. A vestige of the good old days At the end of the Second World War, as the Allies advanced into German territory, some of these instruments were found. Around 2,000 of them were sent back to Paris, where they were stored in various locations, including the basement of the Palais de Tokyo and the greenhouses of the Jardin d'Acclimatation. On April 11, 1945, the leading Paris dailies published a short notice for victims of Nazi theft to come forward and reclaim their property. "It was just as the first deportees were returning,' Piketty noted, pointing out the stark contrast between deportees who were like the 'living dead' and 'the massive instruments returned to the despoiled". For many survivors of the war, these pianos were much more than just an instrument. Maurice Boumendil, an amateur musician and former prisoner of war at Stalag X-A, said in a letter that he 'had the joy of being reunited' with his wife and daughter, deported to Bergen-Belsen, adding that his piano represented "a vestige of our happier times". 'After five years of persecution, these pianos represented a poignant memory,' said Piketty. 'They revived memories of moments when people gathered around this instrument." In the basement of the Palais de Tokyo or at the Jardin d'Acclimatation, survivors of the Holocaust crowded in to try to recover their precious pianos. But the situation was chaotic as there were thousands of instruments to examine. Some people managed to get their hands on pianos that had retained a serial number or some other identifying mark. In her letter, Myriam Levi wrote that she still has the key to her piano, and that she believed she left a photograph of her husband under the key lid. But it was only when she noticed her cat's scratches carved into the back of the instrument that she recognised it at the Jardin d'Acclimatation. Overjoyed, she couldn't resist immediately playing a few notes from her favourite opera, Handel's 'Alcina'. Others managed to find a substitute keyboard. Composer Mireille Berl hunted for her ivory-lacquered Gaveau grand piano. She found one with the same number, but it was blue – no one could say if it was in fact hers. The only trace More than 1,300 instruments were returned to their owners in this way. For some families, the instruments were the only trace of a missing family member. Arrested in November 1943, Émile Weill never returned from Auschwitz. After the war, his daughter Marcelle was able to recover the family's Pleyel piano. Eighty years later, this relic has been preserved by Weill's descendants: "His granddaughter is thrilled to be able to play a few notes on her grandfather's piano. It's exceptional,' says Piketty. Other families who had relatives in the camps were not so lucky. Unclaimed pianos were sold by the state from 1948 onwards. After retiring from her job at the national archives, Piketty continued to be fascinated by the story of the stolen pianos. She still sometimes helps families file claims with the commission for the restitution of property stolen during the war (CIVS). "It's still very topical. There are still individual claims," she said. In Germany as in France, the looted pianos continue to be tracked down. Some have already told their stories, while others are waiting to return home.
