Minecraft: The Unlikely Tale of Markus "Notch" Persson and the Game that Changed Everything by Daniel Goldberg, Linus Larsson Page A
Authors: Daniel Goldberg, Linus Larsson
Tags: Technology, Building, Pop Culture, indie, gaming, minecraft, Mojang, blocks, Creeper, sandbox, gaming download, Minecon, survival mode, creative mode
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decides to track down the roots of the Swedish indie game scene, he or she will probably discover a programmer meet-up just like this one.
Twenty-two-year-old Erik Svedäng took the initiative and organized the first No More Sweden. He had been programming games for as long as he could remember, and for several years had wanted to attend the Independent Games Festival in San Francisco. However, it’s hard just to scratch out a living as an independent game developer, and in 2008 Svedäng was forced to accept that, once again, he couldn’t afford plane tickets to San Francisco that year. So he decided to organize his own festival instead. All he needed was a venue; finding enthusiastic game developers to fill it wouldn’t be a problem.
After the programming contest, in which everyone present got twenty-eight hours to create a game, there was an awards ceremony. Svedäng and his friend Petri Purho won in the categories “Most Next-Gen” and “Most Erotic,” with the creation You Have to Knock the Penis , a precision game they’ve described as a “feminist statement.” The prize for “Best Game” went to Jonatan “Cactus” Söderström, for Stench Mechanics . Since then, No More Sweden has taken place every year, and the number of participants keeps growing.
Both Erik Svedäng and Nicklas Nygren work full-time developing games and selling them on the Internet. In contrast, Jonatan Söderström gives his games away online and lives off donations. By indie standards, they are all successful. They don’t make big money, but all of them agree it’s better than working for a mainstream game company like DICE. Nicklas Nygren feels big game studios lead to creative stagnation.
“Walk into any game shop and look at the boxes. It’s the same thing everywhere, just macho men with big guns shooting at other macho men. It’s all stereotype and a real drag,” he says.
“Of course, there are big productions that break the pattern and do fantastic things, but for the most part, it feels like the whole industry is making games for teenage boys.”
All three identify the freedom to transform their own ideas into reality as their main driving force. Of course, sometimes it’s hard to make ends meet, but in exchange, indie developers have full control over their creations, from the graphics and sound, to design, to game mechanics. You have room to experiment and can complete a product in a relatively short time, without having to listen to the views of other developers or anxious publishing representatives.
“If you have a really clear idea of what you want to do, it’s no fun to compromise. I want to do my own projects, not just work on a small part of a huge game,” says Jonatan Söderström.
Most indie developers agree that interest in small, different, and innovative game concepts is growing. With the right conditions, it’s only a matter of time before more games rooted in the indie scene will reach a larger audience. According to Nicklas Nygren, “As the game industry grew, it left a hole in its wake. During the Nintendo era, there were no megasized development teams and budgets. I believe that many people long for the simpler and more experimental games of that time. That’s what makes indie games work so well today. We fill that void.”
The world of Nicklas Nygren and the rest in that basement in Skövde bears strong resemblances to the origins of the gaming industry, found in the early computer culture of the 1970s and ’80s, and especially in the very popular (at that time) demo scene. A demo is a kind of programmed piece of artwork, combining sound and moving images into a visually impressive demonstration. The purpose of a demo was mainly to showcase a programmer’s coding skills in creating visual effects. Back then, before user-friendly programs made it possible for anyone to create digital animations, such work was complicated and time-consuming.
Demo programmers would often work in
Twenty-two-year-old Erik Svedäng took the initiative and organized the first No More Sweden. He had been programming games for as long as he could remember, and for several years had wanted to attend the Independent Games Festival in San Francisco. However, it’s hard just to scratch out a living as an independent game developer, and in 2008 Svedäng was forced to accept that, once again, he couldn’t afford plane tickets to San Francisco that year. So he decided to organize his own festival instead. All he needed was a venue; finding enthusiastic game developers to fill it wouldn’t be a problem.
After the programming contest, in which everyone present got twenty-eight hours to create a game, there was an awards ceremony. Svedäng and his friend Petri Purho won in the categories “Most Next-Gen” and “Most Erotic,” with the creation You Have to Knock the Penis , a precision game they’ve described as a “feminist statement.” The prize for “Best Game” went to Jonatan “Cactus” Söderström, for Stench Mechanics . Since then, No More Sweden has taken place every year, and the number of participants keeps growing.
Both Erik Svedäng and Nicklas Nygren work full-time developing games and selling them on the Internet. In contrast, Jonatan Söderström gives his games away online and lives off donations. By indie standards, they are all successful. They don’t make big money, but all of them agree it’s better than working for a mainstream game company like DICE. Nicklas Nygren feels big game studios lead to creative stagnation.
“Walk into any game shop and look at the boxes. It’s the same thing everywhere, just macho men with big guns shooting at other macho men. It’s all stereotype and a real drag,” he says.
“Of course, there are big productions that break the pattern and do fantastic things, but for the most part, it feels like the whole industry is making games for teenage boys.”
All three identify the freedom to transform their own ideas into reality as their main driving force. Of course, sometimes it’s hard to make ends meet, but in exchange, indie developers have full control over their creations, from the graphics and sound, to design, to game mechanics. You have room to experiment and can complete a product in a relatively short time, without having to listen to the views of other developers or anxious publishing representatives.
“If you have a really clear idea of what you want to do, it’s no fun to compromise. I want to do my own projects, not just work on a small part of a huge game,” says Jonatan Söderström.
Most indie developers agree that interest in small, different, and innovative game concepts is growing. With the right conditions, it’s only a matter of time before more games rooted in the indie scene will reach a larger audience. According to Nicklas Nygren, “As the game industry grew, it left a hole in its wake. During the Nintendo era, there were no megasized development teams and budgets. I believe that many people long for the simpler and more experimental games of that time. That’s what makes indie games work so well today. We fill that void.”
The world of Nicklas Nygren and the rest in that basement in Skövde bears strong resemblances to the origins of the gaming industry, found in the early computer culture of the 1970s and ’80s, and especially in the very popular (at that time) demo scene. A demo is a kind of programmed piece of artwork, combining sound and moving images into a visually impressive demonstration. The purpose of a demo was mainly to showcase a programmer’s coding skills in creating visual effects. Back then, before user-friendly programs made it possible for anyone to create digital animations, such work was complicated and time-consuming.
Demo programmers would often work in
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