I Never Met Vince Zampella, But Here’s The Thank You I Would Have Wanted to Say to Him

It’s no exaggeration to say I wouldn’t have the opportunity to hold this job without Vince Zampella. Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare transformed how I played games, connected with others in the community, and made me reconsider level and mission design in ways I never had before. I was fifteen when it launched in 2007, and while I’d loved gaming since childhood, nothing gripped me like the rhythmic pulse of Modern Warfare’s original multiplayer. For hours, I’d sprint through Vacant’s abandoned office corridors with a shotgun, or cower at one end of Crossfire, praying someone would sprint into my sniper’s crosshairs. Up until then, I’d been firmly anchored in single-player experiences—raised on point-and-click adventures and Grand Theft Auto (at far too young an age)—but COD 4 opened my eyes to an entirely new side of gaming I’d come to cherish.

Thousands of hours of my life have since vanished into Call of Duty, Rainbow Six Siege, and Overwatch, and I owe it all to Vince Zampella.

Of course, no single person builds a game the size of Call of Duty alone—but there’s no denying Zampella’s profound influence on that series and the shooter genre over the past two decades. Long before Modern Warfare, unbeknownst to me, he had already been shaping my taste in games. As lead designer of Medal of Honor: Allied Assault, he steered EA’s flagship WW2 shooter during a time when cinematic ambition was still emerging in the medium. Inspired by Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan, I’ll never forget my first run through the Normandy landing on Omaha Beach—how it plunged me into the raw terror of that moment with startling clarity.

That same philosophy would later define the series Zampella would forever be tied to: Call of Duty (which, in his own famously blunt words, exists because “EA were dicks”). Its early entries were brilliant, with Call of Duty 2 being a particular favorite of mine back in 2005. I’d always been drawn to that era—my dad flooded my childhood with WW2 films: The Great Escape, The Longest Day, The Dambusters, A Bridge Too Far. Every Sunday afternoon, I’d sit in front of them (again, likely far too young), so it was only natural that by my teens, I wanted to step into those battles myself.

I’ll admit, I was skeptical about Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare before it dropped. I’m naturally resistant to change, and the idea of swapping my trusted M1 Garand for an M16 felt like betrayal. I couldn’t have been more wrong—it became my all-time favorite campaign almost instantly, with Titanfall 2, a later Zampella project, the only one to come close. The way it carried those cinematic ambitions into the modern day was breathtaking, shifting focus from my father’s war films to discoveries of my own—Ridley Scott’s Black Hawk Down, Body of Lies. The immersion was unlike anything I’d experienced, from the heart-pounding opening of Crew Expendable to the explosive climax of Shock and Awe.

And then there’s All Ghillied Up—turning the campaign’s core ideas on their head midway, and still standing today as one of gaming’s most iconic levels. It’s not hyperbole to say this mission reshaped how I saw game design, revealing what’s possible when ideas are set free and built upon. It’s a meticulously balanced masterpiece that runs like clockwork, even when you try to break it. The silent crawl through haunting Pripyat is a masterclass in level design, and credit belongs to Zampella, who was Studio Head at Infinity Ward then, for nurturing and championing that creativity.

Modern Warfare’s campaign stands as a landmark in its own right—among countless other achievements, it features one of gaming’s most unforgettable blockbuster moments—but when you add to it what was arguably the most revolutionary multiplayer shooter before Fortnite, you get the genesis of a franchise that would dominate the world. Call of Duty 4’s multiplayer was the first time I truly engaged with online gaming. I didn’t own an Xbox then, so I missed the Halo wave. But Modern Warfare became my entry point—I devoured everything I could to get better, watched clips of players whose skill I knew I’d never reach. I studied meta builds, which felt like a novelty back then, and pored over wikis and guides on sites like IGN, never dreaming I’d one day write for them. The simple, addictive loop of leveling weapons, unlocking attachments, then prestiging to start again filled my after-school hours. I couldn’t stop—and didn’t want to.

Zampella’s impact on me lasted long after his time on Call of Duty ended. With Respawn, his work on Titanfall saw its 2016 sequel reach—and some argue surpass—the heights of Modern Warfare’s campaign. The fluid movement, the exhilarating chaos of piloting its mechs, and levels like Effect and Cause and Into the Abyss remain benchmarks in single-player shooter design. From that universe came Apex Legends. My battle royale of choice still captures Titanfall’s mobility and pairs it with a weapon arsenal that few can match. And then there’s Star Wars. Jedi: Survivor in 2023 became one of my favorite recent games, fulfilling the promise of its predecessor with stunning clarity, making me feel like I was playing a new Star Wars film—just like the original trilogy my dad used to show me between WW2 epics. I’d been mulling over replaying Survivor over the holidays. Now I know—I definitely will.

As I said earlier, no one person builds a game the scale Vince Zampella helped create. But there’s no denying the legacy of the legendary developer behind Call of Duty, Battlefield, Medal of Honor, Titanfall, and Star Wars Jedi. He wasn’t just a pioneer of first-person shooters—he relentlessly pursued cinematic experiences that have shaped the medium for decades. Personally, I’m deeply grateful. Not only because these games have been among my favorites to play, but because the depth they brought me likely made it possible for me to write about them for a living. To Vince: thank you. I may never have met you, but I’ve loved every moment spent in the worlds you helped build—just as millions of others have, too.