Martin Banks, Personal Computer World 06/83 - checked

June 1983

Regular readers will be aware by now that I have a considerable suspicion of all video and computer games. I am also aware that such suspicion puts me into the minority.

I did, however, participate in a ' computer games' incident recently that intrigued me. To me it makes an interesting story, so I will bore you with it. After that, we can argue the toss about what it all means. . . you know, WHAT IT ALL MEANS. . .

Right, the story.

An acquaintance of mine popped round a couple of months ago to borrow a bottle of scotch or something. What he came for is now irrelevant, for while we sat chatting, he spotted it - a home computer sitting on my desk

'Ere, wossat?' said my acquaintance (actually he doesn't talk a bit like that but it heightens the dramatic effect, don't you think?). 'That, my good man, is a home computer,' said I (ditto the last brackets).

Being as naturally inquisitive as the next man, he decided to investigate, and soon discovered the ROM cartridge plugged into it carried some mention of a game not totally dissimilar to Space Invaders. 'Cor, lesshavago,' quoth he, and reluctantly I plugged in the joy sticks.

He then proceeded to tell me all about his days at college where he had been, at one time at least, the de facto Space Invaders champion of the students' union bar. At the same time he was waggling the joystick and decimating the display, flying saucers and all.

Soon enough he had cleared the first screenful while still on his second rocket launcher or whatever the damned things are called: there was one more to go. His score continued to mount until it was several orders of magnitude greater than anything I had ever achieved in the half dozen times I'd played the game.

Suddenly, disaster struck. From nowhere, a treacherous Invader dropped a couple of sneaky bombs and the war was over. Not only did the televised Fatherland lay pillaged and in waste, but one ego sat before the screen vaguely crumpled and defeated. 'I used to be able to clear two screens every time,' the ego's owner confessed.

As it happened I was soon to be the source of redemption for that bruised and battered ego, for my neighbour insisted that it was now my go: that we were in some way in competition. So I took my turn against the invading hordes and, like many a battle commander before me, got completely wiped out.

Now this prompted quite a significant reaction in my acquaintance. His spirits immediately perked up because I had failed to clear the screen even once. (I must admit here that up until this point I had not even realised it was possible to clear the screen and continue the game, so badly do I play it.). Ego was at once restored, machismo came forth. Beating me at Space Invaders had somehow elevated him to some point where he perceived himself as definably 'better' than me.

What made it all the more interesting to me was the fact that he was surprised, nay, almost horrified, that I didn't care about either the game or who won. The impression I gained was that I, in some strange way, was less of a. . . dare I say it?. . . man than he for not being good at Space Invaders and, even worse, not being interested in being good at Space Invaders.

Now my acquaintance is a good bit younger than me; he must be to have been able to play Space Invaders at college, so attitudes have changed about what is a good way to demonstrate one's machismo. In my young day it was silly things like drinking competitions and riding round town seven-up in an MGB; all very conventional and middle-class.

The personal computer and the games program seem to be changing all this, for - silly as they might have been (and in practice, as harmless as they were) - those older pastimes were at least real. We actually participated in them, ran the risk of being sick for a week or falling off the side of the car as it careered round a corner. With computer games it would appear that individuals are being removed from contact with reality. It becomes important to show that one is 'better' at unreality than someone else in order to prove that one exists and has a part to play in life.

So much has been written in the past by pundits, experts, genuine thinkers and the like about what the computer/microelectronic/information technology revolution can offer dear old humanity (even I have made the odd mention of it in the past). Much has been made of how the bad aspects should be watched and controlled, or how the use of machines by unscrupulous individuals and governments could come to dominate the actions, even the thoughts of people. Much has also been made of how the computers can be used to advance knowledge, education and creativity to the point where a kind of Utopia could be made a practical reality.

Now, my own thoughts and aspirations tend to side with the latter school of thought. I cannot help but feel that the personal computer in all its many potential guises (most of which would probably not be seen as a ' computer' at all) is like manna from heaven. Almost as if there is a God somewhere that is saying 'OK, you guys have managed to cock up everything else I've tried, let's see what you can do with this gizmo; let's see if you can make this one work to your betterment.'

Even I accept that, in reality, this is a fond dream. I do not accept, however, that the hopes and aspirations that lie behind the dream should not be pursued; that all the goals are unattainable. That some are attainable can be seen now in music, where the 'computer' in the form of the synthesizer et al has opened up the possibility for individuals to display and develop their creativity without recourse to ten years or more of hard labour learning an instrument.

As a musician myself (and a poor one) I personally feel that coming to terms with an instrument is the best way, but I am not so much of a purist as to condemn those whose urge to create now demands that they take whatever route is available to circumvent the drudgery. That, to me, is an excellent use of the computer as a tool, a justifiable means to an end.

However, I cannot feel the same way about games. In fact, I feel that they achieve - maybe even deliberately achieve - the exact opposite.

Here comes the splendidly elitist point in the argument, for I cannot help but feel that the games programs help to push individuals down to some level of 'lowest common denominator' of intellectual activity or aspiration. It is elitist if only because, as was pointed out to me by an admittedly bitter teacher a couple of years ago, 'waffling on about what good the computer can do for individuals is rubbish. In reality the vast majority are ineducable.'

Bitterness is often an over-reaction to reality, but the essence of the reality exists... many people can probably be defined as ineducable, a lowest common denominator approach to dealing with them is probably sensible; the computer game is probably the best way of giving them something to do, something to `be'' in a way that is harmless.

The demonstration of a machismo in being the best blitzer of screen images with other screen images is probably better than exercising it by beating up one's fellow human beings in the flesh.

I can't help feeling that it shouldn't be so, that even the games approach can be used to better advantage, and that the personal computer can add more to human endeavour than it seems to be taking away at present. If that sounds elitist and/or evangelical, so be it.

Otherwise, it is going to be a rotten world we will live in, though most of us will never see it. I'm not sure I will want to. All I'll want is to be locked in my little cell with some nutrient tablets, a computer with speech synthesis and recognition, and a program called Eliza. At least that way I'll get a decent conversation.

end