The Game-Maker Archive – Part 20: Blinky and a Small Kind of Fame

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Jeremy LaMar is perhaps best known under the handle SnigWich, for his Megazeux games such as Bernard the Bard – often ranked amongst the best games ever produced under Gregory Janson’s engine. More recently, under his new name Otto Germain, he has returned to his roots as a cartoonist. Before any of that, he was renowned for his RSD Game-Maker work – and he never even knew it.

At some point two of LaMar’s early Game-Maker games, The Return of Blinky and Blinky 3, made their way to a section of America Online known as AOL Kids. There, they gained a small yet fervent cult following. In the following years, a Blinky wiki and fanfics and video tributes would spring up around the Web. Even years after the AOL Kids area vanished, LaMar’s fans kept up the devotion. At least one poster to a DOS games forum claimed that the Blinky games inspired him to pursue game design.

When you consider the obscurity of most Game-Maker games, indeed of Game-Maker itself, this level of enthusiasm is remarkable. To be sure, LaMar’s games are amongst the most polished produced with RSD’s tools, both in terms of the design sensibility and in their mastery of the materials available to them. One does wonder, though, how much circumstance and exposure play in a game’s fortunes. One also wonders what other small communities might even now be obsessing over even less likely games, and to what extent those players might be inspired to greater things.

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The Game-Maker Archive—Part 19: Presents and Protocol

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There were three main ways that Game-Maker users communicated. Either they knew each other in person, which was nothing unusual but could lead to larger and more nuanced projects than an individual could tackle, they communicated through the post, which was slow but both mysterious and intimate, or there were the BBSes.

Before the Web caught on (or even existed), the big deal was local dial-up boards. Most of them were text-based, and most were fairly slow. You would connect, check your personal messages, see if anyone had posted any new discussion topics or responses, perhaps fiddle with a multiplayer door game or two — and then you would head to the file area.

Most boards had a ratio: you can download so many bytes for so many bytes you upload. A bad ratio was close to 1:1. Somewhere between a 2:1 and 4:1 ratio, the file area would come to life. Users would be just motivated enough to keep sharing material, yet wouldn’t feel pressed to dump just any junk on the community. This is the environment where shareware thrived; when the Web took over, the whole shareware model went into whack.

If you found the right board, BBSes were also the perfect environment to share and discuss Game-Maker games. Mark Janelle ran the Frontline BBS with RSD’s semi-official blessing. Other users ran their own boards or carved out corners of existing communities.

A problem with BBSes was their dial-up nature. Unless the board was very local, you were in immediate danger of old-school long distance phone charges. If the board was in the same state but not in the same county, you were particularly screwed. So despite Janelle’s and RSD’s efforts there was never a unified Game-Maker community. Rather, the community consisted of countless islands of independent development, that would occasionally cross paths and trade ideas.

Although it was located in the middle of nowhere — specifically Kennebunkport, Maine — which must have made a daunting long-distance charge for most users, the Frontline BBS was the most prominent place for these paths to cross. That makes sense; it was the only board referenced in the Game-Maker box. The board therefore carried some valuable artifacts of shared Game-Maker culture. Whether or not those artifacts are in themselves excellent is sort of beyond the point. What’s important is that they are formative and sort of iconic to the Game-Maker experience.

These four games, by two authors, are amongst the first Game-Maker games that many users will have played, aside from RSD’s demo games and those users’ own creations. Unfortunately not all of them still exist in precisely their original form, but one takes what one can get.

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The Game-Maker Archive—Part 18: Call and Response

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Back in July we unearthed two previously unknown Game-Maker games, Roland Ludlam’s space racer Hurdles and Matthew Groves’ free-roaming space shooter Space Cadet. We then tracked down and interviewed those two authors. Roland Ludlam is currently working on a WiiWare project and Matthew Groves is considering Android development; each was generous with his time and memories, and with some prodding each was generous enough to find and forward some other long-neglected projects for us to record and archive. The former scrounged around on an old backup of a backup, and the latter mailed us a collection of 5-1/4″ floppies to extract.

From each party we received two games: one fully developed and substantial, and one experimental or unusual. We’ll start with the “big” games, and then once we’re primed we’ll turn to the really interesting stuff.

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The Brussels Spout (Book 2)

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The Martins and their burgeoning demo group known as PPP Team seized Recreational Software Designs’ Game-Maker with a ferocity and a measured European flavor of design. Over two or three years they assembled upwards of 24 games, each more ambitious than the last. Since they were developing with an unlicensed copy of Game-Maker, most of those games were strictly for their own entertainment — which may to some extent explain the energy that went into them.

There are three branches of PPP Team software. In our previous article we discussed their one-off, often experimental titles. These games tend to be both character driven and strongly inspired by Commodore and shareware design sensibilities. One of those games, Blork Carnage, introduces a character named Jack Booster. This game and this character serve as the roots for the second of PPP Team’s branches — their defining franchises.

If the one-off games housed a wealth of interesting whims, it’s PPP Team’s series that received the bulk of their effort and originality. Of those, both the most significant and the most varied series are spun off from the Duke Nukem styled Blork Carnage. A third, early series also showed itself during the team’s Game-Maker era, to further build off one of those spin-offs. We’ll start with the series that more or less equates with PPP Team, in terms both of iconography and of their design sensibility.

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The Game-Maker Archive: The Brussels Spout (Book 1)

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I had known for a while of Sylvain “Pypein” Martin’s blog. It muses in depth on Game-Maker’s file formats, and tracks a project to port one or more Game-Maker games to the Nintendo DS. My problem was that the site is mostly in French, and seems to presuppose some understanding of its topics. I bookmarked the site and filed it away, and turned to more immediate problems. It turns out that all this time I had been overlooking a cornucopia of Game-Maker games and utilities.

Martin, his brother Pierre, and associate Pierrick Hansen form the core of a mid-’90s Belgian demogroup called PPP Team. Later on they would release some tracker music and projects coded in assembler. It seems, though, that they got their start with RSD’s Game-Maker.

I’m not sure how many games they worked on; many are unfinished, and some appear lost to time and computer failure. Depending on how you count, maybe 17 or 18 games still survive in some form. The games touch several genres, but mostly focus on and toy with the side-scrolling platformer mold. They include a few long-running or frequently referenced series, several one-off games, and a fair number of tributes or pastiches.

Though the earliest games freely borrow sprites and backgrounds from existing sources, the group soon graduates to completely original elements. Even within a series the sprites are rarely duplicated from one game to the next. By the time they start to import graphics from Deluxe Paint, PPP Team seems to have total control over its resource pipeline.

At this point it’s the areas without that control — for instance the music — which glare the most.

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The Game-Maker Archive—Part 16: Trees in the Forest

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We have previously discussed Sherwood Forest Software. They’re an outfit of two Pennsylvanians, Rob Sherwood and Dan Whalen, who latched onto Game-Maker early, pumped out game after game without ever really learning the tools or apparently play testing the results of their efforts, and then quickly vanished.

What is curious about Sherwood’s games is that often the concepts are, if not brilliant, unusual and full of potential. As they went on, some of their sprite and background design was even rather charismatic. Yet their actual design is bewilderingly slapdash, to the point where there’s a certain fascination, perhaps even an education, to poring over their catalog.

There is evidence of at least 11 games by the duo, most of which were released within about six months in 1992. The latest games seemed to trickle out somewhere in 1994. Previously we breezed over four of them: Big Bob’s Drive-In, Shootout at Dodge, Rocket Fighter, and Robo Wars. Thanks to some of the methods outlined in a subsequent chapter, we now have three more games to discuss, this time in a little more detail.

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The Game-Maker Archive—Part 15c: The Easiest Lifting, Act III

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Bergervoet is a Dutch fellow who goes under the developer name Multigames. In 1998, probably about two or three years after RSD pulled support for Game-Maker, he found the software and threw together a few games. For his inspiration… it’s not that he just lifted sample material and called it his own; he drew all his own sprites and tiles, and I think recorded most of his own sound effects. And unlike Felix Leung it’s not that he directly quoted popular references and based a game around them. Strictly speaking, everything in his games is original. It’s more that his games are strongly inspired by other, existing games.

There’s nothing unusual about that, of course. Without Mario Bros. we wouldn’t have Bubble Bobble. Without Bust-A-Move/Puzzle Bobble, we might not have a casual game industry. What’s unusual is that all his games are based on, well…

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The Game-Maker Archive—Part 15b: The Easiest Lifting, Act II

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Previously we discussed Felix Leung, who did a pretty good job of co-opting familiar properties and filtering them through his own fairly advanced understanding of Game-Maker to create original, often bizarre, conglomerations. You could say that he crossed the line in places, and then danced back over it, and then tied the line into a sheepshank, but it’s easy to understand his method and reasons. This next fellow is a bit more brazen, and therefore a bit more puzzling.

In 1994, a fellow from Vallejo known variously as C.H. and Viper decided to grab everything in sight and call it his own — but then, at the last minute, to give it just enough of a bewildering spin to make it memorable. His first port of call, understandably enough, is Gregory Stone’s Nebula.

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Phantom Fingers: The Series — Part Five: Myths and Legends

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It is 1981. Somewhere between testing and mass release, interest in Nintendo’s Space Invaders clone Radar Scope had cooled. It’s not that the game was poor. It’s just that six months earlier Pac-Man had changed the arcade landscape, and in the narrowing landscape for Invaders clones there was only room for excellence. Do we order Radar Scope, or do we order Galaga? Easy choice.

Enter the slacker art school kid who was only ever hired as a favor to his family. Shigeru Miyamoto was told to recoup losses by designing another game for the returned Radar Scope hardware, preferably aimed at US audiences. Inspired by Pac-Man, Miyamoto took pretty much all of Iwatani’s new ideas of scenario, character, empathy, and play narrative, and pretty much built a whole game on them without the traditional clutter.

( Continue reading at Game Set Watch )

The Game-Maker Archive—Part 15a: The Easiest Lifting

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I’m not saying that everything has to be original. We’ve gone over this before; some of the best ideas in history began by ripping someone else off and then veering off in an original direction. One of the best ways for a budding artist to learn form and space is to trace everything in sight. That’s the way that we think; we take what’s in front of us, and we bend it and shape it until it suits our needs. The best of us just do a very good job of hiding our influences — and then if someone spots them, we call them influences.

These guys… they weren’t so good at hiding it. Over the next three columns I’m going to go into some of the stranger creative blanks in the Game-Maker community. What can be confusing is the amount of genuine talent at work — or, having grabbed and run, the bizarre directions they took their borrowed source material. One of these artists pushed Game-Maker in a way that few others did. Another chose the strangest route of influence, but at least made all his own material. The other guy just didn’t care what people thought. Most of these games I find inexplicable, one way or another.

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Good Games, Bad Design – Episode 2: Repeating Chaos

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by [redacted]

Sonic Team has always had trouble finishing its projects. The Sonic Heroes demo had a great premise and played well; then after E3 they just dumped in a bunch of content and called it done, without adequately bug-checking or thinking through the actual game progression. The first release of Phantasy Star Online was bare-bones, with a rushed cut-and-paste level structure, a fraction of the planned races and locations, and a tacked-on offline mode (albeit with a well-written story). Even the final, International edition of Sonic Adventure was weirdly abbreviated and riddled with bugs.

This tendency goes all the way back to the Genesis. The otherwise streamlined Sonic the Hedgehog 2 is famously crammed with unused material, some of which made its way into the third game. That right there hints at Sonic Team’s problems; they’re fine when they keep small and simple. ChuChu Rocket! is glorious, if confusing; Samba De Amigo is respectable enough. Although Sonic 2 is less diverse and quirky than the first game, it is more focused and polished — but given a hint of scale, they quickly lose perspective.

Rather than extrapolate a premise to its logical extremes, Sonic Team overloads a simple game with details and systems and drowns it in a deluge of random content, then calls it epic. Then, more often than not, they fail to complete the content in time, resulting in a half a game of padded level designs and incomplete ideas. Sometimes, as with Phantasy Star Online, they get a second or third chance to finish what they started, which basically means packs of content lumped on top of the existing unfinished structure — resulting in, well, an underdeveloped game straining under an inappropriate weight. Which is much better, apparently.

The problems first showed themselves in 1994, with the release of Sonic the Hedghog 3. The game was a slight departure from its predecessors: different music staff, different visual style, different level pacing and structure. The game was to be huge, with three characters and battery backup. Instead of blindly racing through the levels as in the previous game, players were encouraged to play over and over from multiple perspectives, to explore the game thoroughly.

Therein lay the problem: the plans were too huge to complete in the allotted time and memory constraints, and no one was willing to strip back and look at what was really necessary to make the point. The clever, if perhaps ill-advised, solution: break the game in two, and release the halves eight months apart.

The solution might have been brilliant, had their ideas stretched far enough to allow each half to be unique and vital. Unfortunately they barely had one game’s worth of ideas.

( Continue reading at Game Career Guide )

The Game-Maker Archive—Part 14: Laser Light

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by [redacted]

My association with Recreational Software Designs started early, maybe around the time of my first game. I don’t remember the circumstances. Maybe I wrote in with some suggestions. Maybe I was trying to show off my work. Whatever my motivation, I was fourteen and unhampered with caution or tact. I mailed a letter and maybe a 3.5” diskette, and then forgot about it. Weeks later, the phone rang. Against my normal habits, I picked up. The voice, which asked for me by name, sounded uncannily like one of my friends. Being fourteen and tactless, I told the voice that it was an idiot. The voice was confused. I unleashed more rudeness. The exchange continued until the voice identified itself as the president of RSD, a certain Oliver Stone. Tickled with the oddness of the situation, I laughed for a minute or more.

I’m not sure why he stayed on the phone, or indeed continued contact with me. Eventually we developed a rapport. He would mail me pre-release versions of new Game-Maker updates; I would scour them for bugs and inconsistencies. I would mail in my newest creations; he would introduce me to other Game-Maker users and show me their work. This went on for a few years.

For the 3.0 release of Game-Maker, RSD chose to transition from floppies to CD-ROM. In 1995, this was a big step. It was like having a book or an album published. Within a year AOL mailers and demo discs would render the CD common; in 1995, it was still a magical endless data well. So RSD now had a whole CD to fill, and to justify the leap they needed to fill it.

I was prolific, and able to hide my ineptitude behind polish and an intimate understanding of the game engine, so evidently I was just what RSD needed. They contracted me to design six games, and to sign over another two. My rudeness persisted; when asked to contribute, my first impulse was to toss them a couple of my least favorite games. It was only with later discussion that I twigged their desire for new, flashy, and instructive content. With that goal in mind, a certain inspiration struck me. I progressed at about a game a week. Some of the games served to demonstrate certain design concepts; others spun themselves out of a whim.

At reader request, here are those six games, in the rough order of development. I’ll hold off on the overt criticism, and instead try my best to explain what was going through my head. We’ll just see if a sensible train of thought develops.

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The Game-Maker Archive—Part 13: The World Wide Haystack

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by [name redacted]

Over time Recreational Software Designs’ Game-Maker may have become obscure, but in its time it was both progressive and widespread. From a small family business in New Hampshire, the software traveled to Russia, to South America, to Singapore, to Australia. It sometimes seemed that every other game was from a new country. This was before the Web, when consumer software spread through magazine advertisements and shareware spread through bulletin boards, so people had to spend some real effort to seek out the software and trade its games.

Then attention shifted to the Web, and those BBS archives started to gather dust. It’s kind of like moving to a new computer; you transfer the most relevant files, then leave everything else sitting around on your old hard drive. Maybe, months or years down the line, you will remember an old file or application and dig it up again. Mostly, you forget. Somehow, despite its pervasiveness in the BBS scene, Game-Maker never quite made that transition.

And yet because of that pervasiveness, you can find echoes of Game-Maker everywhere if you know how and where to look. The Web contains huge unfiltered archives of content gathered from bulletin boards, dumped either directly from those boards or from late-’90s software bundle CDs. Abandonware and DOS software archives, in languages from Russian to Esperanto, are dotted with Game-Maker games. You just need the right search keys.

Obviously it helps to know a game or publisher name. Failing that, you can recognize the Game-Maker file structure at a glance. Every game consists of an unusually large collection of raw data files — some combination of .PAL, .BBL, .CBL, .MBL, .CHR, .MON, .MAP, .SND, .GAM, .VOC, .CMF, .GIF, and .TXT files, with a handful of others. Furthermore, nearly every Game-Maker game contains a few common files: SNDBLAST.DRV, CONFIG.DAT, CONFIG.BAT, CONFIG.HLP, GMHELP.TXT. A few other files pop up frequently enough: GMTITLE.GIF, GMTITLE.CMF, GMSONG1.CMF.

Not every game you find will be a winner, but if you keep poking around you will find a few weird gems. Like, for instance…

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The Game-Maker Archive—Part 12: Cut-and-Paste Opportunism

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by [redacted]

For its time, Recreational Software Designs’ Game-Maker offered users the world over to put practice to their game design ambitions, within certain strict limitations. Mostly this ambition took on an informal shape. Users connected with each other through bulletin boards and shared ideas and resources. They explored how to subvert the engine’s limitations, and how to adapt their own wild ideas to practical realities. A few users, like Mark A. Janelle, took the business implications of shareware very seriously, while still contributing to the overall Game-Maker culture. Other users kind of took the engine and ran.

Instead of seeing Game-Maker an opportunity to explore game design and to make social connections without any of the usual hurdles, they saw it as an opportunity to turn around a quick profit with a minimum of investment. Although I admire a certain ambition, I’m not sure if Game-Maker was really the best tool for the job.

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Phantom Fingers: The Series – Part Four: Gobble Gobble

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by [redacted]

To bring you up to speed, in 1976 Breakout came along to refocus Pong as a single-player experience, to redefine the videogame in terms of the player’s relationship with the gameworld, and to inject a remedial sense of narrative.

This had profound effects technologically, in terms of design theory, and in terms of the narrative application of videogames. Three threads would arise: the home PC, and two distinct schools of design; one focused more on the the pure theory, and one more on the storytelling potential of the form.

Two years later, Space Invaders reinvented Breakout as a tense battle between the lonely individual and inevitable doom from above. Suddenly players could reach out and touch the targets, and it mattered if they did. Add in a high score table, and a cultural phenomenon was born. Arcades were established just to fill with this one game. The videogame had become a summer blockbuster, its audience’s emotions and impulses carefully orchestrated for word-of-mouth and return visits.

Yet all was not well. Just as Pong had enjoyed several years as the generic videogame, overnight Space Invaders became the only game in town. Every game on the market, from Galaxian to Radar Scope, was an Invaders clone. And yet its appeal was not universal. Somehow, as the young Toru Iwatani observed, those dingy, smoke-filled arcades were filled entirely with socially-inept males. Furthermore, the game’s bleak tone and the mental state it aroused through constant repetition was a bit worrisome.

Clearly there was something wrong with this picture, and Iwatani set to figuring it out.

( Continue reading at Game Set Watch )