Profit of doom: how violent video games drove the new economy

Washington Monthly, July-August, 2003 by Justin Peters

MASTERS OF DOOM: How Two Guys Created an Empire and Transformed Pop Culture by David Kushner Random House, $24.95

I SPENT THE BULK OF DECEMBER 1999 trying to murder my friends with a rocket launcher. When the rocket launcher wasn't available, I used a shotgun, or a knife. I wasn't picky--it was all a game to me. Literally. The game was called 'Quake III Arena," and it was the baddest-best computer game I had ever seen. Eschewing storyline and subtlety in favor of relentless action, "Quake" was permanently set in "death-match" mode, which basically consisted of bouncing around a giant unearthly auditorium trying to kill as many people as possible as fast as possible before you ate a rocket yourself. It was ultra-violent and ultra-addictive. Happily neglecting my collegiate studies in pursuit of pseudo-militaristic glory, I stayed up nights in front of my computer, trying to take down friends and strangers from around the world who had dialed into the same server. Eventually, with both grades and personal hygiene slipping, I forced myself to delete the game from my hard drive. But, for a brief period, I had been hooked.

This was my first real foray into the world of super-violent computer games. Overprotective parents had restricted my childhood game consumption to innocuous rifles like "Math Blaster" and "Wheel of Fortune: The Electronic Version." I had surreptitiously played games like "Doom" at friends' houses, but had never had the opportunity to become obsessed. In the waning days of 1999, however, deathmatching constantly and feeling a very real adrenaline rush each time, I could well understand how such games became so popular, and how id Software, which created "Quake," became the definitive name in entertainment software publishing.

David Kushner's Masters of Doom: How Two Guys Created an Empire and Transformed Pop Culture tells the story of id with admirable aplomb. Although the subtitle sounds hyperbolic, it's basically true. In their bloody excess, programs like "Doom" and "Quake" reinvented computer gaming and gave birth to a generation of garners who lived by the mantra that, when it came to guns, guts, and demons, more was definitely better. Kushner takes an in-depth look at the rise of id and the fall of its founding partnership, with sidelong glances at its social and political ramifications. The result is a breezily engaging, fascinating examination of an authentic cultural phenomenon.

The Egos behind id

Strangely enough, the story of id Software is essentially an old-fashioned, rags-to-riches tale whose protagonists are both named John. John Carmack was a juvenile delinquent, building bombs and breaking into computer labs at the age of 14. John Romero was an obnoxious egomaniac with an abusive stepfather. Both shared an affinity for games, which seem to have provided respite from the instabilities of their lives. "No matter what Romero suffered, he could always escape back into games," writes Kushner. "The computer felt like a revolutionary tool: a means of self-empowerment and fantasy fulfillment." For eager young minds with lime connection to the real world, it was a small step from playing these games to writing their own.

When Carmack and Romero met in Louisiana in 1989 at a software company called Softdisk, computer gaming was still in a relatively embryonic state. By modern standards, pioneering games like "Zork" and "King's Quest" suffered from a surfeit of plot and a dearth of graphics, and were limited in their capabilities by the inadequacies of the programming. The two Johns soon realized that, given the time and the resources, they could offer better, more ambitious product. Working after hours at Softdisk with some like-minded friends, they soon made a Coding breakthrough that replicated the side-scrolling graphical action--a constant redrawing, of background scenery that creates the illusion of horizontal movement--found in games made for the popular Nintendo console. With this accomplishment under their belts, they bolted Softdisk to found their own company, the aptly named id Software. Their first offering, "Commander Keen," succeeded immediately. "Keen," an innocuous space adventure that featured their side-scrolling graphical engine and a smart sense of humor, was hailed as one of the best, most original games of the year.

Yet it wasn't until the release of "Wolfenstein 3-D" in 1991 that garners saw what the guys at id were really capable of. In the planning stages, writes Kushner, "Wolfenstein had taken on two imperatives: it would be brutal, as originally imagined by Romero, and it would be fast, as engineered by Carmack." It was both. Indeed, "Wolfenstein" was a heart-pounding race through the corridors of a Nazi castle. Chased. by dogs, guards, and zombie fascists, players moved through levels killing Nazis and collecting treasure in pursuit of the ultimate goal of killing Hitler. "Wolfenstein" was violent. It was unlike anything gamers had ever seen. And they ate it up. Id's offices were bombarded by checks and congratulatory phone calls. Computer Gaming World called it "a peek at part of interactive entertainment's potential for a sensory immersed virtual future.