philosophy of life didn’t do much for the growth of
the department, Romero thought.
Romero confronted Al. “You told me that I would make big commercial games, and all
I’m doing is helping them out in the PC department. If things don’t change, I’m going
to leave and go work for LucasArts,” he said, referring to the new gaming company
launched by George Lucas, creator of
Star Wars.
Big Al didn’t like what he was hearing. Romero had proven to be one of his most valuable
employees. He admired the kid’s ability to focus. Whenever Al came by to check up,
Romero was sitting there with his big square glasses pressed up against the computer
monitor, working for hours on end. He told Romero he didn’t want him to go.
Romero said he had spent the last year studying all the PC games and felt they were
glaringly under par. Because the PC was still not as robust as the Apple II, the games
were lackluster—static little screens with crappy graphics, nothing approaching the
sophistication of the games being done for the Apple II. Now was the time to strike.
Al agreed and suggested they start a subscription disk dedicated to games, a monthly.
“Monthly?” Romero said, “No way, one month is nowhere near enough time.”
“Well, our subscribers are already used to a monthly disk,” Al said. “Maybe we could
do it every other month, but that would be pushing it.”
“I think we can do that. That’s still not a great amount of time, but we could probably
do something decent, but I’m going to need a team: an artist, a couple programmers,
and a manager, because I don’t want to sit there interfacing with management all day;
I want to program.”
Al told Romero he couldn’t have an artist; he’d have to farm out the work to someone
in the existing art department. But he
could
have a manager and another programmer; he just had to find them.
Romero ran back to the Apple II department to tell Lane and Jay the good news: “Dudes,
we’re fucking making games!” Lane would now be editor of Gamer’s Edge, Softdisk’s
new bimonthly games disk for the PC. All that remained was to get another programmer,
someone who knew the PC and, just as important, could fit in with Lane and Romero.
Jay said there was someone he knew who was definitely hard-core. This kid was turning
in great games. And he even knew how to port from the Apple II to the PC. Romero was
impressed by the apparent similarities to himself. But there was a problem, Jay said.
The Whiz Kid had already turned down a job offer three times because he liked working
freelance. Romero pleaded with Jay to try him again. Jay wasn’t optimistic but said
okay. He picked up the phone and gave John Carmack one last pitch.
When Carmack pulled up to Softdisk in his brown MGB, he had no intention of taking the job. But, then again,
times were getting rough. Though he enjoyed the idea of the freelance lifestyle, he
was having trouble making rent and would frequently find himself pestering editors
like Jay to express him his checks so he could buy groceries. A little stability wouldn’t
be bad, but he wasn’t eager to compromise his hard work and ideals to get there. It
would take something significant to sway him.
When Al met Carmack, he was thrown off.
This
was the Whiz Kid he’d heard so much about? A nineteen-year-old in ripped jeans and
a tattered T-shirt who, despite his muscles, seemed not to have reached puberty yet?
But Carmack did pack plenty of attitude. When Al spelled out the plan for Gamer’s
Edge, Carmack brushed off the tight deadline as no problem at all. He was brutally
honest in his criticism of the current crop of games, including those being put out
by Softdisk. Al showed Carmack to the other building, where Romero and Lane were eagerly
waiting. On the way, Carmack was impressed to see a stack of
Dr. Dobb’s Journal
s, the magazine for hackers, which grew out of the Homebrew
the department, Romero thought.
Romero confronted Al. “You told me that I would make big commercial games, and all
I’m doing is helping them out in the PC department. If things don’t change, I’m going
to leave and go work for LucasArts,” he said, referring to the new gaming company
launched by George Lucas, creator of
Star Wars.
Big Al didn’t like what he was hearing. Romero had proven to be one of his most valuable
employees. He admired the kid’s ability to focus. Whenever Al came by to check up,
Romero was sitting there with his big square glasses pressed up against the computer
monitor, working for hours on end. He told Romero he didn’t want him to go.
Romero said he had spent the last year studying all the PC games and felt they were
glaringly under par. Because the PC was still not as robust as the Apple II, the games
were lackluster—static little screens with crappy graphics, nothing approaching the
sophistication of the games being done for the Apple II. Now was the time to strike.
Al agreed and suggested they start a subscription disk dedicated to games, a monthly.
“Monthly?” Romero said, “No way, one month is nowhere near enough time.”
“Well, our subscribers are already used to a monthly disk,” Al said. “Maybe we could
do it every other month, but that would be pushing it.”
“I think we can do that. That’s still not a great amount of time, but we could probably
do something decent, but I’m going to need a team: an artist, a couple programmers,
and a manager, because I don’t want to sit there interfacing with management all day;
I want to program.”
Al told Romero he couldn’t have an artist; he’d have to farm out the work to someone
in the existing art department. But he
could
have a manager and another programmer; he just had to find them.
Romero ran back to the Apple II department to tell Lane and Jay the good news: “Dudes,
we’re fucking making games!” Lane would now be editor of Gamer’s Edge, Softdisk’s
new bimonthly games disk for the PC. All that remained was to get another programmer,
someone who knew the PC and, just as important, could fit in with Lane and Romero.
Jay said there was someone he knew who was definitely hard-core. This kid was turning
in great games. And he even knew how to port from the Apple II to the PC. Romero was
impressed by the apparent similarities to himself. But there was a problem, Jay said.
The Whiz Kid had already turned down a job offer three times because he liked working
freelance. Romero pleaded with Jay to try him again. Jay wasn’t optimistic but said
okay. He picked up the phone and gave John Carmack one last pitch.
When Carmack pulled up to Softdisk in his brown MGB, he had no intention of taking the job. But, then again,
times were getting rough. Though he enjoyed the idea of the freelance lifestyle, he
was having trouble making rent and would frequently find himself pestering editors
like Jay to express him his checks so he could buy groceries. A little stability wouldn’t
be bad, but he wasn’t eager to compromise his hard work and ideals to get there. It
would take something significant to sway him.
When Al met Carmack, he was thrown off.
This
was the Whiz Kid he’d heard so much about? A nineteen-year-old in ripped jeans and
a tattered T-shirt who, despite his muscles, seemed not to have reached puberty yet?
But Carmack did pack plenty of attitude. When Al spelled out the plan for Gamer’s
Edge, Carmack brushed off the tight deadline as no problem at all. He was brutally
honest in his criticism of the current crop of games, including those being put out
by Softdisk. Al showed Carmack to the other building, where Romero and Lane were eagerly
waiting. On the way, Carmack was impressed to see a stack of
Dr. Dobb’s Journal
s, the magazine for hackers, which grew out of the Homebrew
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