Meet David Crane: Video Games Guru by Colin Covert Reprinted from 7WA A1Illxmodol' Mo{;;ozine with pennission ofthe author and publisher: copyright 19H:\ by Trans World Airlines, Inc. his is a story about a famous person whose the estimation of many people who know him, he's a name you've probably never heard. He is a genius. modern artist. His works adorn millions of Genius means something different in Silicon Valley T homes nationwide. They command the than it does to the south in Hollywood, where a "ge­ families' attention for hours on end every week. His in­ nius" is anyone whose latest film is making money. To come is astronomical. Yet only now are he and others computer professionals in Mountain View, Sunnyvale, like him emerging as significant figures in the public or San Jose, "genius" is an accolade that implies vast consciousness. technical expertise. Crane, a virtual Berlitz academy of Our subject is David Crane. He designs the most computer languages, is also a genius in the Hollywood popular video games in America. sense. His games are the nearest things to sure hits in At 29, Crane is an unlikely superstar, a gangly six­ the industry. foot-five coat rack of a guy with an all-American exte­ rior and a Scientifu American soul. Blond hair falls in Video games--once a sizable fad, then a swelling 'Straight bangs across his forehead, and he sports a craze-are becoming the dominant entertainment in­ sandy beard of recent vintage. The instruction bro­ dustry of the Eighties, a white-hot vortex of art, tech­ chure ofhis best-selling home video game Pitfall put his nology, show biz, and, above all, money. Atari paid a face before so many young players that people had be­ staggering $22 million to license Steven Spielberg's gun requesting his signature at the supermarket. "Peo­ character E.T. for a video game. Best-seller charts rank ple asked me for my autograph. I thanked them for the Top 15 game cartridges in Billboard magazine, giv­ asking," he says, bemused. That's when he grew a beard ing them equal status with the nation's favorite LP's. to change his appearance. Having become famous after And justly so. Between the arcade Cyclopes and the a fashion, Crane, who is shy at parties, is striving to go home versions ofvideo games, the industry may gross incognito. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. as much as $6 billion this year, according to Ronald His complexion is pale by California standards; de­ Stringari, a vice president of Atari Corporation. At that signing video games is an indoor occupation. The pitch plateau, video games will be a bigger business than the of his voice is high, almost adolescent. His characteris­ motion picture and record industries combined. tic expression is a wry smile, a little grin thatjust puck­ Despite the eary December 1982 panic that knocked ers the corners of his cheeks. He looks uncoordinated video game stocks down by as much as 33 percent per but is by all accounts a cut-throat tennis player. And, in share overnight (as happened to Warner Communi- Colin Covert writes for the Detroit Free Press and is a contributing editor ofAmbassador Magazine. Page 46 Hi-Res Magazine, January The game may take only afew minutes to play, but they can take six to eight months to create. cations, parent company of Atari), few onlookers feel often-repeated aphorism of David Crane·s. Crane's Law the potential of the video game business has been re­ says that man will always use his most advanced tech­ alized. Observers estimate that on Christmas morning nology to amuse himself. 1982, there were game consoles in 14 million of the 80 The few men who can harness that technology (games million U.S. households with televisions. The Yankee design is a virtually all-male fraternity) are the creative Group, a Boston high-tech consulting firm, projects basis of the entire industry. But one of the games com­ that by 1990 60 million U.S. households will be equipped panies play is awarding designers scant credit for the to play video games. enormous profits squeezed out of their video games. Ironically, since its birth a decade ago this has been The largest manufacturers-Atari, Mattei, and Co­ an entertainment industry without stars. Though game leco-routinely refuse to assign credit for their games. cartridges alone accounted for $1.5 billion in sales last Company officials publicly maintain that all their games year, most of the designers who write, direct, and pro­ are produced by teamwork, so crediting an individual duce these megahits labor in obscurity. Imagine the would be inaccurate and unfair to the rest of the team. film industry if Hitchcock or Coppola were unknown, The firms sometimes tie themselves in embarrassing the music world if Streisand or Bernstein were anony­ knots complying with these policies. A recent issue of mous, and you've got a reasonable picture of what the Intellivision News, the slick newsletter from Mattei for video game industry has been until now. Designing a good video game is more than a token victory. The games may take only a few minutes to play, but they can take six to eight months to create, months of insomniac hours, tedium, sudden fortune, and sud­ den disaster. Physically, video game cartridges are nothing more than tiny flakes of melted sandjammed into cheap plastic cases. What makes them come to life, creating the little dramas that have become our new national pastime, are the instructions etched onto those silicon chips-the programming. In the whole world just a handful of people know how to conjure a game on the screen of a home televi­ sion set. New York's Institute of Electrical and Elec­ tronics Engineers estimates that there are only 100 video game designers in the nation. The hurdles would­ be designers must pass are at least equal to those con­ fronting other computer professionals. Designers must Decathlon is Cranes newest video game on the market. combine an adolescent enthusiasm for games with a disciplined understanding of microcode and an intri­ InteJlivision owners, includes a lengthy interview with cate knowledge of the game computer's architecture. "the man who designed and programmed" the game Microcode, a complex computer programming sys­ Utopia, Nowhere in the article is the designer's identity tem, moves jittery bits of whizzing electricity through disclosed. the chip on a painfully precise one-la-one basis. In one Laboring in anonymity is quite a sore point for most microcode game program, the shape of a castle is de­ designers, according to Alan Miller, who joined Atari scribed as HS26263E3A2F3E. Such are the nouns of after a stint at NASA. "When I worked at NASA and the language that directs the machine and defines the people asked me what I did, I really couldn't tell them. play. Every object's size, form, color, movement, trajec­ The nature of that kind ofengineering is such that you tory, and speed must be detailed. Orchestrating a cas­ work on small parts ofa number oflarger projects. But cade of electronic impulses to the correct destinations games design is different. You are creating something requires hundreds ofpages offormidably rigid instruc­ that is an expression of yourself. A game designer has tions. The work is as unforgiving as brain surgery. as much right to be credited for his work as a com­ There is no margin for error. poser." Some wily designers found ways to take public Nevertheless, to a certain kind of individual, the credit without their bosses' knowledge, Miller says. Two work is irresistible. The fascination of trying to get of his former Atari colleagues programmed their games complex equipment to function just so can be enor­ to reveal their identities onscreen after a chance series mously gripping. Steve Cartwright, who, like David of moves. Crane, is a "name" designer, describes the work as an Today, through a combination of hard-won legiti­ obsession. ''I'd do this even if I weren't getting paid to." mate recognition and sheer industry hype, designers There is ajoy in beating the system that gives rise to an are entering the limelight. Even monolithic Atari, which Hi-Res Magazine, January Page 47 has long suppressed designers' identities fearing per­ about rejecting the trappings of maturity. His shoes­ sonnel raids and industrial espionage, has begun to cheap brogues the size ofgunboats-are worn to mere name names. The imaginative people who devise video nubs. "These are Red Wing shoes, and, obviously," he games for a living are becoming public figures, with fan says, raising one outlandish foot to'display a dwindling clubs and even pestering groupies. Throughout the nation, teenagers are filling mail sacks with requests for mementos from their idols: an autographed printout of Rob Fullop's data-entry routines perhaps, or a note on code-crunching tips from Carol Shaw. Many kids with personal computers are beginning to program their own games. If through repetitious play some teenagers are turned on to new professions in com­ puter science, then the mania is worth it. The leader in crediting designers for their creations is Activision, whose president, former recording indus­ try executive Jim Levy, promotes his people like rock stars. The flourishing software firm was founded in 1979 by Levy, Crane, Alan Miller, Bob Whitehead, and Larry Kaplan, all disaffected Atari designers who wanted more money and recognition. From the first, every Activision game was packed with an instruction manual carrying a photograph of its creator and a signed letter with the designer's play­ ing tips.