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Videogames: In the Beginning
evanak (Evan Koblentz) writes "Last year, at the PhillyClassic videogame event, I noticed a teenager wearing an ironic t-shirt. His shirt showed an original Nintendo controller and said 'Know your roots.' Sadly, it's not just modern youngsters who are unaware of their technological roots -- sometimes even we self-proclaimed adult über nerds are equally unaware. Regarding videogames, this is especially true, and now industry pioneer Ralph Baer is trying to rectify the situation. His attempt takes the form of a sincere autobiography, although with mixed results. The book is titled Videogames: In the Beginning." Read on for the rest of Koblentz's review.
Videogames: In the Beginning
author
Ralph Baer
pages
260
publisher
Rolenta Press
rating
8
reviewer
Evan Koblentz
ISBN
0964384817
summary
Autobiography of the inventor of home videogames
According to Rolenta publisher Lenny Herman (the author of Phoenix: The Fall & Rise of Videogames), Baer became interested in documenting his own experiences a few years ago, when the mainstream media began heaping praise with increasing frequency on Atari founder Nolan Bushnell.
Baer begins his story as expected: a detailed explanation of why he, not Bushnell, should be called the father of videogames. Baer, as Slashdot readers probably know, invented the prototype console that eventually became the Magnavox Odyssey. He explains that he suggested building a game feature to differentiate Loral Electronics' high-end televisions in 1951, but that his idea was declined by management; that he got serious about the idea and built his first prototype while working at defense contractor Sanders Associates in late 1966; and that Bushnell attended a demonstration (and signed the guestbook) in 1972 before founding Atari and consequently building his own version of Pong.
That's fair, and if Baer were to conclude the first chapter with the book's subtitle -- "the inventor of home videogames" (note the qualifier of "home" vs. "all") -- then it would be an acceptable story. However, he takes the argument into a different and surprising direction. He asserts that everything before his time -- such as Willy Higginbotham's 1958 oscilloscope-based tennis game at Brookhaven National Laboratory and MIT hacker Steve Russell's Spacewar from the 1960s -- were not "real" games simply because they used non-standard screens and weren't commercially viable. (But so what? They were no less entertaining. By common sense, and not a console purist's definition, a "videogame" is a game played on a video screen, period. I'm sorry if Bushnell gets credit for the invention of practical, home videogames where Baer rightfully deserves it, but that's no reason to indict the whole history of creative computer science.)
Happily, the Baer drops the matter after the first chapter, and continues telling the story of his adventures working with Sanders and Magnavox. Better yet, it turns out that these adventures are fascinating and worth reading no matter when or what Baer originally invented. Among the technologies he helped to develop were methods for delivering game content over cable television networks, the use of cartridges for storing game data, interactive videotape and videodisk systems, instant-replay features for sports games, and methods for drawing on the screen. He also invented the famous electronic Simon toy. For most of this time, he made a living by designing military simulators for Sanders Associates. In addition, for most of these issues, Baer includes not just prose about the how and why, but also detailed and full-color technical notes, illustrations, and even schematics. There are also sections focusing on the business issues he faced while trying to get Magnavox and other large corporations (such as Coleco and Nintendo) interested in his unproven ideas, which of course were correct, or else you wouldn't be read this. Another section of the book deals with lawsuits involving Bushnell.
Baer has two more treats for us before closing his autobiography. First, he includes eight appendices, focusing on the Simon and other toys; a television games chronology; a Magnavox timeline; notebook entries from 1966-1972; patents; schematics and experiments; timelines of all of his projects sorted by date and category; and a bibliography. Second, for hands-on readers, there is an optional CD available for $10, which includes the necessary information for building your own Brown Box prototype and with video of Baer demonstrating how to play it. (My review copy didn't include the CD, so I'm basing this on what's stated in the book and on an email from the publisher.)
Overall, I recommend checking out this book. There are other videogame histories, but none so thorough from the perspective of a pioneer who actually lived it. If you can get past the controversial first chapter, you will find a great tale of ingenuity, persistence, ambition, and justice, along with some very cool technological insights. Or, as summarized by Steve Wozniak on the back cover, "I can never thank Ralph enough for what he gave to me and everyone else." Game on!
You can purchase Videogames: In the Beginning from bn.com. Slashdot welcomes readers' book reviews -- to see your own review here, read the book review guidelines, then visit the submission page.
According to Rolenta publisher Lenny Herman (the author of Phoenix: The Fall & Rise of Videogames), Baer became interested in documenting his own experiences a few years ago, when the mainstream media began heaping praise with increasing frequency on Atari founder Nolan Bushnell.
Baer begins his story as expected: a detailed explanation of why he, not Bushnell, should be called the father of videogames. Baer, as Slashdot readers probably know, invented the prototype console that eventually became the Magnavox Odyssey. He explains that he suggested building a game feature to differentiate Loral Electronics' high-end televisions in 1951, but that his idea was declined by management; that he got serious about the idea and built his first prototype while working at defense contractor Sanders Associates in late 1966; and that Bushnell attended a demonstration (and signed the guestbook) in 1972 before founding Atari and consequently building his own version of Pong.
That's fair, and if Baer were to conclude the first chapter with the book's subtitle -- "the inventor of home videogames" (note the qualifier of "home" vs. "all") -- then it would be an acceptable story. However, he takes the argument into a different and surprising direction. He asserts that everything before his time -- such as Willy Higginbotham's 1958 oscilloscope-based tennis game at Brookhaven National Laboratory and MIT hacker Steve Russell's Spacewar from the 1960s -- were not "real" games simply because they used non-standard screens and weren't commercially viable. (But so what? They were no less entertaining. By common sense, and not a console purist's definition, a "videogame" is a game played on a video screen, period. I'm sorry if Bushnell gets credit for the invention of practical, home videogames where Baer rightfully deserves it, but that's no reason to indict the whole history of creative computer science.)
Happily, the Baer drops the matter after the first chapter, and continues telling the story of his adventures working with Sanders and Magnavox. Better yet, it turns out that these adventures are fascinating and worth reading no matter when or what Baer originally invented. Among the technologies he helped to develop were methods for delivering game content over cable television networks, the use of cartridges for storing game data, interactive videotape and videodisk systems, instant-replay features for sports games, and methods for drawing on the screen. He also invented the famous electronic Simon toy. For most of this time, he made a living by designing military simulators for Sanders Associates. In addition, for most of these issues, Baer includes not just prose about the how and why, but also detailed and full-color technical notes, illustrations, and even schematics. There are also sections focusing on the business issues he faced while trying to get Magnavox and other large corporations (such as Coleco and Nintendo) interested in his unproven ideas, which of course were correct, or else you wouldn't be read this. Another section of the book deals with lawsuits involving Bushnell.
Baer has two more treats for us before closing his autobiography. First, he includes eight appendices, focusing on the Simon and other toys; a television games chronology; a Magnavox timeline; notebook entries from 1966-1972; patents; schematics and experiments; timelines of all of his projects sorted by date and category; and a bibliography. Second, for hands-on readers, there is an optional CD available for $10, which includes the necessary information for building your own Brown Box prototype and with video of Baer demonstrating how to play it. (My review copy didn't include the CD, so I'm basing this on what's stated in the book and on an email from the publisher.)
Overall, I recommend checking out this book. There are other videogame histories, but none so thorough from the perspective of a pioneer who actually lived it. If you can get past the controversial first chapter, you will find a great tale of ingenuity, persistence, ambition, and justice, along with some very cool technological insights. Or, as summarized by Steve Wozniak on the back cover, "I can never thank Ralph enough for what he gave to me and everyone else." Game on!
You can purchase Videogames: In the Beginning from bn.com. Slashdot welcomes readers' book reviews -- to see your own review here, read the book review guidelines, then visit the submission page.
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There is nothing like classic video games and pinballs. MAME is great, but still can't capture it completely. I am glad I got to grow up during the great era of arcades.
My beliefs do not require that you agree with them.
Woosh!
By the way, that quote is from Marcus Brigstocke.
If your experience halts upon the screen's surface, you need a little coaching.
0 0002HIK/ref=pd_bxgy_img_2/103-5231162-9433400?v=gl ance&s=music) at 50% the normal speed. You begin to see and appreciate all the "fun" interactions between the bits. The experience has time to dawn on you, and that makes all the difference.
Turn your attention to the interaction between screen elements (sprites) and their sounds. That's where the gameplay happens.
(You might have to get a real 2600 for this to work properly, but it's easy now, with the 2600 & more available at Wal-Mart & such)
The thing that makes new machines great - even the NES, is the incredibly simplistic graphics on the old systems. Inversely, the thing that makes the older systems *good* in the first place, is how inventively and captivatingly they work within the contraints of a tiny memory space, 2-axis, 1-button controls, and 480 lines of 60Hz video.
What your mind experiences as "gameplay" is a combination of the feedback from your hands/fingers on the control, the visual triggers from that blocky pixel bouncing into/around/over the static area. When the "blocky pixel" becomes a biplane-shaped sprite, and the static area a vaguely "barn-shaped" color area, and you have to use this little stick with one button to manoeuvre the "biplane" through the "barn", you have a Game.
Making the game "Fun" is another challenge altogether. You have a single channel, voltage controlled synthesizer with which to generate happy sounds, mean sounds, ambient sounds, and triumphant sounds. You have the stick with button. You have hardware limits in storage, code execution speed, etc. Line up alll those pieces, and because you had to make sacrifices, each interaction becomes something meaningful.
The best analogy I can come up with would be to listen to any of the meatier tracks on "I Care Because You Do" or "Drukqs - Disc 2" (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/B0
Why don't children play golf?
Because compared to blocks & mud, it's no fun. Why? Because there are too many rules and roadblocks, and paraphernalia. Freeze tag, go-fish, war, jumprope, hopscotch, etc, all have extremely low entry ceiling.
Fun games all have that quality - whether based on the meat-plane or in Cyberspace.
The ability to GET IN AND PLAY is what keeps your play center titillated. Q3 Deathmatch: Prime example. Ms Pacman, Donkey Kong, Mario, Poke(shudder)mon, Kirby, and the Prince in Katamari Damacy all know this.
you're not a real gamer until you use EVERY key on the keyboard to perform vital functions... Netrek knew that all too well.. oh yeah and it was low quality graphics, high quality gameplay... team play and intelligent thought required... what a concept.
Don't anthropomorphize computers: they hate that.
Computer games don't affect kids. If Pacman had affected us as kids we'd be running around in dark rooms, munching pills and listening to repetitive music. -- kristian wilson, CEO Nintendo 1989
Well, because the C64 games were made by a wide variety of developers instead of one company - the atari packs are atari games, the namco packs are namco games... C64 had a plethora of game companies. EA and Activision were a few of the bigger ones... but where's Broderbund now?