Marty Brickey has spent his career spotting value in overlooked ideas and turning them into functioning businesses across media, gaming, and technology. Now he applies that same lens to veterans mental health, believing technology can extend care to those who might not otherwise ask for help.
Marty Brickey grew up moving. His father’s job took the family across the country, from one state to another, often with little warning. Colorado for a few years, where he learned to ski in the mountains. Arkansas, where he finished high school. Somewhere in between, the realization that being the new kid meant learning to read a room quickly, to adapt without announcement, to notice what others might not.
He describes the experience as formative. Not in the way that produces nostalgia, but in the way that teaches a particular kind of attention. You learn to spot patterns. You learn that what looks settled to some might be shifting for others. And you learn that opportunity often hides in places people aren’t used to looking.
That sensibility followed him to Missouri State University, where he earned a Bachelor of Science in Management, and then into a professional life that has never quite followed a single line.
A Publishing Model That Didn’t Exist Yet
In 2002, Brickey founded Layne Morgan Media with a straightforward premise: people learn better when they are engaged, and storytelling paired with visuals can make complex material more accessible. Educational graphic novels were not widely used in formal education at the time. Textbook publishers were not asking for them. But Brickey believed the model could work.
Layne Morgan Media began producing educational graphic novel content, and within a few years, the company had become the sole producer of such material for The McGraw-Hill Companies. The work validated the concept and allowed the business to scale. Brickey describes the process as one of iterative testing rather than grand vision. He started small, proved the idea, then expanded. It was not about making content for its own sake. It was about making learning stick.
The success of Layne Morgan Media gave Brickey capital and credibility. It also gave him a platform to ask what else might be possible if you approached storytelling as a tool rather than an art form isolated from function.
Expanding Into Interactive Media
Games, Brickey realized, were another form of storytelling. But they were interactive, which changed the relationship between creator and audience. He founded Flyover Entertainment, which eventually encompassed three studios: Secret Lair Studios, Grumpy Ninja Studios, and Studio Chi’n, the last of which operated in China.
The studios built games and interactive content, and they did so at a time when few Western developers were establishing production operations in China. Brickey describes the experience as one that forced him to think globally before that was a common expectation. Cultural differences, regulatory environments, time zones, language barriers—all of it required adaptation.
Vivendi Universal eventually acquired Flyover Entertainment. The studios became part of the foundation for Sierra Online and contributed to what would grow into Activision Blizzard’s Chinese division. Brickey exited the deal with a track record that now spanned two industries and two continents.
He also served as a board member for Gas Powered Games, which was later acquired by Zynga. His role there was advisory, drawing on years of operational experience and a familiarity with the pressures of scaling creative companies in competitive markets.
A Shift Toward Veterans Mental Health
Brickey’s recent work has moved into a different domain. He has become an outspoken advocate for veterans mental health, particularly around PTSD, anxiety, and suicide prevention. The issue, he states, is not distant. It affects people who have given everything in service, and the systems designed to support them are not sufficient.
He has been involved in developing technology tools aimed at supporting veterans dealing with trauma. The approach mirrors his earlier work in some ways: identify a problem, build something simple that works, then refine. But the stakes are different. Technology, he emphasizes, is not a replacement for human care. It is a way to extend it, to reach people who might not walk into a clinic or ask for help in a traditional setting.
He describes the first step as often the hardest. If an app or a platform can lower that barrier, even slightly, it can make a tangible difference. He also stresses that this is not only a systems problem. It is a community issue. Friends, family, coworkers—people need to pay attention and be willing to have difficult conversations.
In 2026, Brickey launched a personal pledge aimed at raising awareness and encouraging everyday action. The pledge does not require special training or resources. It asks individuals to take small, consistent steps: check in on veterans they know, learn the signs of distress, share information about available support. The message is direct: real change does not always require large institutions. It can start with one person deciding to act.
On Simplicity and Execution
Brickey is a pilot with over 4,000 flight hours. He talks about aviation the way he talks about business: as a discipline that rewards preparation but punishes overthinking. You follow checklists. You make decisions with incomplete information. You do not freeze.
His advice to other entrepreneurs reflects that mindset. Start small. Do not try to build the whole thing at once. Look for the simplest version that proves the idea works. Most people, he says, make things too complicated. Simple ideas, executed well, beat complex ideas that never launch.
He also admits he spent too much time overthinking decisions early in his career. You learn more by doing than by waiting. That lesson, learned through multiple exits and rebuilds, now shapes how he approaches consulting work.
Consulting and What Comes Next
Today, Brickey works as a consultant based in Orlando, Florida. His clients span industries, but the work typically involves strategy, scaling, and operational design. He draws on decades of experience leading companies through growth, acquisition, and restructuring.
He continues to invest in and advise startups, often in technology and media. But his public focus has shifted toward veterans issues. He has used his platform to highlight gaps in mental health support systems and to advocate for technology-driven solutions that can reach people where they are.
The work is personal in a way his earlier ventures were not. He speaks about it with urgency but without sentimentality. The problem is clear. The solutions exist, at least in part. What is needed now is action, not just from institutions but from individuals willing to pay attention and show up.
The Through Line in Marty Brickey’s Work
There is a common thread in Brickey’s career, though he does not always name it explicitly. It is the belief that the most valuable opportunities are often the ones others overlook. Educational graphic novels were dismissed until they worked. Interactive media in China was risky until it scaled. Veterans mental health technology is underfunded, but that does not mean it is unworkable.
Brickey has built a career on moving toward problems that do not yet have obvious solutions, testing ideas that seem impractical, and proving that simple execution can outperform complex theory. He has done it in publishing, gaming, and now in advocacy. The industries change. The approach does not.
He remains based in Orlando, where he continues to consult, advise, and advocate. The next chapter is not yet written. But if his history offers any indication, it will involve something others are not yet paying attention to. And it will work because he will make it simple enough to launch, and disciplined enough to sustain.
