Pitching a game for funding works a lot like pitching a movie: a studio brings a concept, some proof that it can be built and will be fun, and a plan for what it costs and how long it takes, to whoever is being asked to pay for it — and "greenlit" just means that party said yes before the actual game exists to point to.

The pitch itself is rarely just a written description. Most greenlight decisions today rest on a "vertical slice" — a small, fully polished section of the actual game, built to final quality, that demonstrates what the finished product will look, play, and feel like, rather than a concept document or a rough prototype. Funding a whole game off a written pitch alone is the exception, not the rule, precisely because a document can promise anything, and a playable slice can't fake nearly as much.

Who says yes depends on how the studio is funded in the first place. A publisher-funded studio pitches to that publisher, who provides the budget in exchange for a share of revenue and creative oversight throughout development. A self-funded or venture-backed studio may pitch directly to a platform holder — Sony, Microsoft, Nintendo, Valve — for a marketing deal, a timed-exclusivity arrangement, or direct funding, without necessarily giving up as much creative control as a traditional publisher deal requires. Crowdfunding and early-access sales are a third, much rarer route: pitching directly to future players instead of to a company with a checkbook.

Whoever the greenlight ultimately comes from, the actual decision being made is a bet on risk: funding a game means committing years of salaries and overhead to something that generates zero revenue until it ships, if it ships at all, which is exactly why a polished, playable vertical slice — proof the team can actually deliver, not just describe, the thing being pitched — carries more weight in that decision than any other part of the pitch.