When all was said and done, it worked amazingly well. Shadow Complex was released in August 2009, and more than 200,000 gamers downloaded the 835-megabyte package at $15 each. The game didn’t work just because you had to eliminate hundreds of enemies. These sci-fi soldiers, guards, and robotic monstrosities were merely navigational roadblocks on a thrilling trek through the odd, ultraconservative world of evildoers called The Restoration. They were so archly to the right that they would have made Sarah Palin seem liberal. And as you progressed from room to room and from cave to cave and swam beneath that lake, you were enticed to continue because regular guy Flemming evolved in strength and confidence every step of the way, as you peeled back the world’s secrets like layers of onion skin. As you gathered an assortment of weapons and explosives, you began to learn more about a conspiracy that sometimes left you aghast. When you looked outside the window in real life, you might have thought, “Geez, is that guy on the street one of them? He looks so suspicious with that bulky ski parka. Is there a bomb under there? Crap. Is this guy the real Restoration? Is this the beginning of a new civil war?” You were grabbed by the balls by both story and play, neither of which would let go. Shadow Complex was that effective.
The ending, which was full of fire-filled explosions, an oversized spaceship, and a saw-that-coming-a-mile-away twist on the story of the protagonist’s oddly lipped girlfriend, was not as gripping as the game play leading up to the epilog. But oh, that game play. You could almost smell the pine trees and feel the mist that sprayed from the waterfalls. In an underground war complex, you battled all manner of well-armored creeps and angry knee-high robots shooting foam that made you immobile for seemingly endless seconds while a soldier took aim at your not-quite-tough-enough armor. But the true joy of Shadow Complex was searching the hidden recesses for little treasure chests after you finished the initial mission. They were hidden deep in mountain caves or at the very tops of ceilings on obscured ledges that were treacherous to get to, even with your jetpack. All the while you had to be wary of sudden mishaps, like stumbling upon a fast treadmill that pushed you into nuclear reactors. Zap: you were killed by burning. You became nothing but cinders and ashes.
Shadow Complex was the way of the future: a small game that made money for a big company. Epic executives estimated that Chair, after its success with Shadow Complex, was worth three to four times the amount Epic paid for it initially. And a giant megacorporation like Microsoft was proud to have Shadow Complex in its stable of downloadable games, because it added a cachet of brilliance beyond the usual fare. It was part of a master plan for Microsoft that ultimately paid off; in 2010, the landmark Xbox Live service on which multiplayer games are played became a billion-dollar-a-year industry in itself. The magic behind this new form of game was, of course, its new means of distribution. With downloadable games, a developer didn’t need a game disk, manual, box, or space on a store shelf. Such games would not see a Grand Theft Auto kind of return, but the monetary rewards weren’t chump change, either.
Whether next year’s or next decade’s games will have colossal or infinitesimal budgets, whether they’ll be mind-bogglingly high-tech or appear humbly in our browser windows, it’s undeniable that gaming has already changed our lives and our culture. Blockbuster TV shows and movies are influenced by the action sequences in videogames—every week. But beyond the braggadocio and hype, beyond being trivial playthings that are mere toys for some, there is real depth in about 10 percent of each year’s releases, and that’s akin to the best of our major movies and TV programs. Sony’s Heavy Rain proved that a serial killer story could be influenced by the subtler, sinister human emotions à la Raymond Carver. Uncharted 2: Among Thieves, with its nineteenth-century penny dreadful influence on a story surrounding Marco Polo’s lost treasure, let you feel as though you were in a melodramatic movie with all the spills and thrills of an Indiana Jones adventure.
So these are more than toys, as educator and game designer Ian Bogost suggests in his book Persuasive Games. Games can have their own kind of rhetoric—not oratory, but a procedural rhetoric that lures us into thinking and changing our points of view. So-called serious games with low budgets are used in politics, education, and medicine not to make money or to be played by millions. Rather, they attempt to convince stricken children, say, that a kind of cancer can be defeated with chemotherapy. One question to mull in the future, beyond ideas for technology like holographic play, may be whether serious games can become subsets of more commercial games. Could a game like Gears of War take time to slip in some of the makers’ inspirations from real war battles, kind of like a battle history–fueled featurette in a DVD? Could a portion of Madden take time in a mini-game or in coaching mode to help us better understand football plays themselves? And what if, in a series like Sony’s brilliant God of War, which waters down the Greek myths, there was a section in which you could enjoy snippets of Bulfinch’s Mythology? It sure would make games far more acceptable to the nabobs who say that they are throwaway ephemera. You could say, “Screw them, I just want to play,” and you would mostly be right; but adding such stuff in a seamless way might well make the game a deeper experience. In the opening scenes of Rockstar’s ambitious cowboy epic, Red Dead Redemption, you see John Marston, the game’s ultra-cool but scarred protagonist, who’s perhaps named after a fifteenth-century poet/satirist, board a train to a dusty, nowhere town. Quiet and alone, he sits listening to the nearby passengers, including bigoted old women who talk about politics. Then, a teen girl tries to school a Luddite preacher about the coming technology that includes airplanes. Man will never do that, replies the preacher. “Flying is for the angels.” It’s an understated history lesson of a time when the United States was in utter transition in everything from politics to religion to technology. And it doesn’t stick out painfully because it’s done with wit. It’s entertaining, but it’s delicately stirred into the Rockstar recipe of Palahniuk-esque anarchic energy and social commentary. And it all works better than similar scenes in, say, Martin Scorsese’s Gangs of New York, which tries to shoehorn history into the drama and often fails in the process. But game makers also have to stop falling back on the idea that the games industry is still in its infancy, a childhood that must be given a cultural pass even if its creations are full of cliché design and childish writing. The industry is not a baby anymore. Games have transformed from curiosities to a conquering form of mass entertainment. Do it thoroughly and thoughtfully or don’t do it at all.
As I write these words, many critics and pundits are rubbing their hands together in glee at reports that the videogame industry has been hit by the recent recession, and they are pouncing upon this news as another opportunity to denounce videogames as shallow playthings. But if you look at the history of popular art, this is hardly surprising. Novels were once forbidden and considered deleterious, leading Voltaire to pen a parody called “Concerning the Horrible Danger of Reading.” In the late 1800s, Anthony Comstock tried to ban everything from Whitman to Tolstoy, and critics were pooh-poohing the content within the popular penny dreadful novels. When movies became the sensation of the late 1800s, Maxim Gorky worried that in viewing them, “we will be increasingly less able and less willing to grasp the everyday impressions of ordinary life.” When movies were finally considered worthy of being called art, the movie critics disparaged pop music from the likes of Elvis Presley and the Beatles. And when videogames came to the fore, all those established critics—book, movie, pop music—ridiculed this growing form of expression. That’s what critics do—they sniff, they rail, they bellow and try to snuff out whatever it is they vehemently disagree with. But Transformation 2.0 is just around the corner as more and more developers elevate their games to something that’s beyond action. Soon, there will come a time when the pundits can no longer hold their noses and shake their heads. Soon, they’ll forget their concentration on the stupid shovelware games. As they look to the new diversity that will flourish, they’ll no longer be able to deny that
videogames are more than just toys.
Until then, those of you who love games will find the art of the game within yourselves. And until then, you’ll sure have fun playing, fighting ever more malevolent grues and traveling to new worlds on roller coaster rides that allow you quick and satisfying escape, and sometimes profound thought, and sometimes, as that non-gamer Coleridge wrote in 1817, the “willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith.”
Bring it on. Bring on more gems like Shadow Complex. Bring on 3-D without glasses. Bring on holographic gaming. Bring on the next generation of Will Wrights, Shigeru Miyamotos, and Houser Brothers—along with the startling, lambent genres they’ll create. Bring it on. Bring it on. As Nightmare growls so ravenously in SoulCalibur II, “My thirst is endless.”
* Epic had come a long way since its early days in London, Ontario. Then, the young Bleszinski (with Arjan Brussee) was focused on making a kind of Rambo meets Mario platform game called Jazz Jackrabbit. But the game featuring the warhawk bunny wasn’t Bleszinski’s real calling. Gears of War was.
* In fact, testing can get even creepier, with galvanic skin response testing. A company called EmSense specializes in wireless sensors to detect anything from sweat on the hands to increasing heart rate. They can measure your arousal level, your positive and negative emotions while playing, and the level of cognitive engagement with anything from the way you save games to your enjoyment of a harsh battle. If a gargantuan monster busts through a wall and the heart rate jumps twenty beats a minute, a developer might want to ratchet down the thrills to ten beats a minute for the sake of pacing. That’s really Clockwork Orange stuff.
I want to thank the highly intelligent and always witty Helen Pfeffer, who listened to me bitch about this book for nearly three years and helped me with the editing. My agent and pal Adam Chromy was in my corner even before this was a book proposal. Julian Pavia, my thoughtful, long note–penning editor at Random House, really gets games and pop culture. He truly understands writers. I also want to thank my good friend Steve Kent, whose Ultimate History of Video Games was an inspiration. To Trip Hawkins, the first who gave of his time, and to all the game makers who listened and opened up, and the publicists who helped to make many of the two hundred interviews happen, I am forever indebted. Jennifer Kolbe, Sam Houser, and Rockstar came through big-time in the end. To the New York Videogame Critics Circle and all the game writers and game players who believe that videogame journalism and culture are about more than shooting, next-generation technology, and leveling up, this book is for you.
All Your Base Are Belong to Us is based on approximately two hundred interviews, along with three years of writing and research.
INTRODUCTION
1 I’m referring to SoulCalibur for the Sega Dreamcast console, released by Namco in the United States in September 1999.
2 The videogame industry statistics cited are from the Entertainment Software Association, circa 2010.
3 The Pokémon-branded milk was from a Bangkok 7-Eleven store.
It was mixed with honey and tasted awful.
THE PRELUDE–FIRST BLIPS ON THE SCREEN
The chapter is based on twelve interviews conducted with William Higinbotham’s son, Bob Dvorak’s son, Ralph Baer, and past and current scientists and employees at Brookhaven National Laboratory.
1 The original Noughts and Crosses can be downloaded at http://www.adit.co.uk/html/noughts_and_crosses.html.
2 Goldman, Robert P., “Wonderful Willie from Brookhaven,” Parade, May 18, 1958, pages 15–18.
3 Higinbotham, W. A., The Brookhaven TV-Tennis Game, date unknown.
A SPACE ODYSSEY
This chapter is based in large part upon a full weekend spent with Ralph Baer at his home in New Hampshire. Baer’s basement was filled with memorabilia, including a toy shop and a working Odyssey. On the floor of his bedroom was a G4TV Legend of Videogames award.
The chapter is also informed by Mr. Baer’s autobiography, Videogames: In the Beginning (Rolenta Press, 2005) and by a second, currently unpublished, memoir.
Also interviewed for the chapter were Bill Harrison and Al Alcorn, along with three others who spoke on background.
2.
SO EASY, A DRUNK COULD PLOY
AND
3.
HIGHEST HIGHS, LOWEST LOWS
Long interviews for these chapters were conducted with Al Alcorn, Ted Dabney, Mark Cerny, Todd Frye, Trip Hawkins, and others. An older interview with Nolan Bushnell was also used.
1 Loni Reeder’s three-page e-mail is dated December 28, 2005.
2 Bushnell’s memo was provided to me by Al Alcorn.
4.
OF MONKEYS, MARIO, AND MIYAMOTO
Based on three interviews conducted over the years with Shigeru Miyamoto, as well as interviews with Henk Rogers, Trip Hawkins, Al Alcorn, Minoru Arakawa, Howard Phillips, and five others who spoke on background.
1 The quote “to escape the cycles of worries I had” is from a Miyamoto interview done by Nintendo of Japan’s president, Satoru Iwata. http://us.wii.com/wii-fit/iwata_asks/vol1_page1.jsp
5.
FALLING BLOCKS, RISING FORTUNES
Based on long interviews I had with Henk Rogers, early Nintendo maven and spokesperson Howard Phillips, Alexey Pajitnov, and Minoru Arakawa, and conversations with Jason Kapulka and others who spoke on background.
1 Russia was not an easy place to live while Pajitnov was growing up. See Hedrick Smith’s The Russians and The New Russians, both landmark tomes, to read more about the tenor of the times during the Soviet Union’s heyday and what came after.
2 Vadim Gerasimov tells his side of the Tetris story at length at http://vadim.oversima.com/Tetris.htm.
6.
THE RISE OF ELECTRONIC ARTS
Based on interviews I conducted with Trip Hawkins, Ray Tobey, Mark Cerny, and Jason Rubin, as well as conversations with Steven L. Kent, Mike Harvey from Nibble magazine, the football players Ray Lewis and Daunte Culpepper, and others inside EA who spoke on condition of anonymity.
1 According to USA Weekend magazine (August 27, 2010), Madden NFL has earned more then $3 billion in revenue since 1988.
2 The New York Times’s Trip Gabriel estimated Hawkins’s financial worth in an article dated October 27, 1993.
7.
GRUES, MYST, AND THE 7TH GUEST
Based on interviews and follow-ups conducted for the book with Graeme Devine, Rob Landeros, Ken Williams, and others who requested anonymity, along with older interviews with game writer Michelle Em, Rand Miller, and musician George “The Fat Man” Sanger, and conversations with journalist Geoff Keighley.
8.
THE PLAYSTATION’S CRASH
Based on interviews conducted with Andy Gavin, Trip Hawkins, Mark Cerny, Jason Rubin, John Smedley, and various people at Sony who requested anonymity, as well as older interviews and conversations with Kaz Hirai, Ken Kutaragi, and Andrew House.
1 Though Kutaragi disdained the idea of a new mascot, the U.S. marketing team paid no attention. A New York Times article dated September 7, 1995, quoted a U.S. executive: “ ‘We’re going after males 12 to 24, too, with a skew toward the high end, so VMA is perfect for us,’ said William Herman, Sony Computer Entertainment’s vice president of marketing, referring to the awards show.” If Kutaragi had heard the age of twelve bandied about, he would have thrown a fit.
2 You can see the very mocking Crash Bandicoot commercial at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTi5EaocGaY.
9.
WHEN THE ADVENTURE ENDS
Based on long interviews with Ken and Roberta Williams. I also spoke with the PopCap guys, some of the Phantasmagoria team, and a few people who didn’t want to be named here. I also drew from older interviews with Roberta Williams and Al Lowe.
1 It wasn’t just Ken and Roberta who were fooled by CUC/
Cendant. Everyone believed the hype, from analysts who rated it a “strong buy,” to Forbes, which, in a May 23, 1997, headl
ine, called the company “The Procter & Gamble of Video Games.”
10.
EVERQUEST: ORCS, ELVES, AND A CAST OF THOUSANDS
Based on interviews with John Smedley, conversations with seven of my former Sony Online Entertainment compatriots, and an older conversation with Kelly Flock. I also talked briefly about EverQuest with the makers of World of Warcraft and two videogame analysts.
1 In the December 20, 1999, issue of Time, an unbylined “Best of Cybertech” story stated, “EverQuest’s superior software puts it sword and shield above the rest.”
2 Shawn Woolley’s sad story is dramatically portrayed by Lazlow (who would go on to work for Rockstar Games) in the May 2003 issue of Playboy.
11.
THE EVERQUEST KILLER
Based on interviews with Chris Metzen, Michael Morhaime, Frank Pearce, Rob Pardo, John Smedley, and others.
1 The complete WoW episode of South Park is still worth watching at http://www.southparkstudios.com/guide/1008.
12.
BIOSHOCK: ART FOR GAME’S SAKE
All Your Base Are Belong to Us: How Fifty Years of Videogames Conquered Pop Culture Page 32