Spacewar!
By Alex Kierkegaard / November 27, 2008
War is the father of all things.
--Heraclitus
How do you review the first ever videogame? What can you compare it to? It is something incomparable. To appreciate it therefore you have to either have been there when it happened, or, as is more likely considering its age (forty-six years -- my, how they flew by!), seek out first-hand accounts and take it from there, proceeding much in the same manner Borges does when he reconstitutes a lost civilization through the fragments of a library. Our goal is no less ambitious than to travel back in time -- any judgement rendered otherwise would be out of context, and thus naive, unjust and worthless.
Yet there are things that can be said about this game even before we begin time-tripping, and they are by far the most important ones. Too bad, however, that this is not the time and place to say them. I am of course referring to the game's theme -- because in a game such as this (which is to say the first one), the relative importance of theme and mechanics is for once reversed: here, theme is far more important than mechanics, far more interesting, not for the impact it has on the quality of the game -- because it has none -- but for its anthropological, psychological, sociological and above all philosophical implications on our understanding of the culture which produced it. It is here -- right here and nowhere else -- at the beginning, that a serious inquiry into these issues can commence, by those who are serious enough to undertake it. Now supposing such people exist (because I have yet to hear of any), they would all, no doubt, immediately stumble upon a single, fundamental, question, a question towards which all the various threads of history and the sciences lead and from where all our prospects towards the future start, that question being --
Why "Spacewar"?
Why not "Earthpeace"? -- Why not "Earthlove"? Why not indeed. And how about that exclamation mark? How much youthful, unconcerned enthusiasm it betrays! What a delightfully immoral sense of adventurousness! For aren't we constantly being told that war is supposed to be a Bad Thing? Something indecent? Something unethical? Something that must be abolished? What's the point then of glorifying it by simulating it?
To these kinds of questions, which have never ceased to crease the brows of all kinds of blockhead commentators and assorted journalistic clowns and never will, I am for the time being only going to reply with a condescending smile and a salutation:
Welcome to the World of Videogames: Corrupting Mankind's Youth Since 1962.
But that's enough of a preamble; let's leave the bigger questions for another time and direct our attention now to the smaller ones: they too can be enlightening if properly examined -- they too are, to a certain extent, worth investigating. So time to discover what it was that made this game so special, apart from it being the first one -- which as it turns out it might actually not have been, though the specifics of the matter turn on semantics, as such matters tend to do, and as it happens in this case are of little interest.
It really is an issue of no consequence. Whether Spacewar came first, or NIM (1951), or OXO (1952), or Tennis for Two (1958), or some such other obscure little game we don't even know about (there seems to be at least one more candidate: a mysterious early "golf" game from the UK regarding which next to nothing is known), depends on whether we talk about computer games, or video games, or electronic games, et cetera, and how we define each of these terms. The earliest known electronic game, for example, was a missile simulator inspired by radar displays from World War II. This was developed in 1947 and used analog circuitry to control the CRT beam and position a dot on the screen, so it doesn't count as a digital computer game. Moreover, since the system it ran on wasn't capable of drawing graphics, it used screen overlays for targets, and so doesn't quite count as a video game either.
Similarly, NIM doesn't qualify as a video game since the computer it ran on used a panel of lights as a display instead of a video monitor (it was, however, a true digital computer game -- the first one we are aware of). Tennis for Two, meanwhile, was built using discrete analog hardware rather than as a program for a digital computer, and moreover used the vector display system of an oscilloscope to depict the action, so it really only counts as an electronic game. Spacewar itself also used a vector display system, so depending on your definition of a videogame it might not have been one -- but it ran on the PDP-1, a true digital computer, so it definitely counts as both an electronic and a computer game.
But this is all beside the point, for, on the one hand, all pre-Spacewar games were either pre-existing games adapted to work on a computer (ports of real-life games, in other words: NIM was a mathematical strategy game dating back to at least the sixteenth century; OXO was just a computer version of tic-tac-toe), or overly simplistic action affairs (that "missile simulator" game I mentioned; Tennis for Two and others) which were not meant to retain anyone's attention for long. The former were widely known, reasonably amusing games, which however did not require the aid of a computer to be played, so whether they used one or not is irrelevant (much in the same way Chess or Monopoly should never be regarded as videogames even when played with the aid of a computer), whilst the latter were hardly designed with a view to being played and enjoyed on a regular basis; such games would be called "tech demos" today, and this is what they were, meant to show off a new piece of hardware in a manner slightly more captivating than abstract number-crunching. Spacewar, it is true, was also conceived as a tech demo in a sense, but there's a difference.
The difference lies in the game's design, by which I mean to say that, in contrast to everything done before, and much that was to follow, Spacewar actually had one. It is this fact that makes us place it apart from and above the rest, not some pedantic argument based on vaguely defined neologisms. Russell and co. were the first programmers to design a brand-new game, instead of merely a novelty show-off piece of code like everyone else. The result was the first electronic/computer/video/call-it-what-you-will-game because it was the first completely original game designed to run on a computer.
And what a game it was. When I read up on its history, and consider the amount of thought and play-testing that went into its making (and to that of its numerous revisions -- new versions are still being made...), I am reminded of a very insightful claim of Schopenhauer's. He at one point explained the (very natural, very human, all-too human) reasons why the course of science is often retrogressive, and I can't help but think how true this is also for videogames, and for the same reasons. -- But of course it would be, for what are videogames -- what is simulation -- if not the ultimate expression of a science triumphant, which finally dispenses with "reality", that pesky flavour of existence from whence it sprung, when it no longer needs it. But I am digressing... into more interesting, and thus more complicated territory. To return to the slightly more mundane phenomenon of retrogression in videogames, just consider the complexity and depth of what immediately followed Spacewar: Chase (1966), Computer Space (1971), Pong (1972) and the like -- extremely crude, extremely shallow games by comparison, which only managed to surpass it in popularity simply because they became more widely available. Criticism was non-existent back then, but wouldn't have made much difference even if it hadn't been, for what was true then remains so: in videogames, as elsewhere, the rabble has no taste and marketing is king. The result: it would be well over a decade before videogaming produced its next genuinely interesting designs (Maze War and Spasim, both appearing in 1974).
And as for Spacewar itself, as for the fate of its design -- minor revisions aside, it would take forty-three years and half a dozen guys from halfway across the world to pick it up and do something significantly new, something truly exciting with it (Senko no Ronde). Indeed, one could claim that the entire subgenre of single-player shooting games was one long interlude of retrogression (since the versus mechanic was removed in order to make the game more accessible to more people (no need for a partner)) -- or at least partial retrogression, since the other half of the game, the shooting part, was indeed evolved, and to a great extent. The concept of versus play was meanwhile evolved through fighting games (character variety, special abilities, etc.), and later reunited with shooting in G.rev's little gem. It's quite a story, isn't it? -- by this industry's standards anyway. Perhaps eventually, with some help from my friends, we'll slowly venture to relate it to you...
And do you think it a coincidence that the first ever videogame was based on versus play and shooting? And what does shooting and destruction represent if not, well... shooting and destruction? And what does versus play reflect if not the struggle of one man against another? Haha. And you were told that videogames were all about creation. But Russell knew much better. "I unleashed the curse of videogames upon the world", he said, and, boy, that's what he did.
THE STORY OF SPACEWAR: PRACTICAL LESSONS IN VIDEOGAME CULTURE
In the words of Spacewar! experts Steve Russell, Martin Graetz, Maury Markowitz and Michael Stern
The ultimate tech demo:
"A good demonstration program ought to satisfy three criteria:
1. It should demonstrate as many of the computer's resources as possible, and tax those resources to the limit;
2. Within a consistent framework, it should be interesting, which means every run should be different;
3. It should involve the onlooker in a pleasurable and active way -- in short, it should be a game."
--Martin Graetz
"What happened was that most of the people who had access to the PDP-1 would show their family and friends what they were doing and they would demonstrate with Spacewar, because it was more interesting than watching someone debug a program with DDT."
--Steve Russell
Increasing complexity (1):
"By February, the first game was operating. It was a barebones model: just the two ships, a supply of fuel, and a store of "torpedoes" -- points of light fired from the nose of the ship. Once launched, a torpedo was a ballistic missile, zooming along until it either hit something (more precisely, until it got within a minimum distance of a ship or another torpedo) or its "time fuse" caused it to self-destruct."
--Martin Graetz
"Up to this point, Spacewar! was heavily biased towards motor skills and fast reflexes, with strategy counting for very little. Games tended to become nothing more than wild shootouts, which was exciting but ultimately unrewarding. Some sort of equalizer was called for.
Russell: "Dan Edwards was offended by the plain spaceships, and felt that gravity should be introduced. I pleaded innocence of numerical analysis and other things" -- in other words, here's the whitewash brush and there's a section of fence -- "so Dan put in the gravity calculations."
The star blazed forth from the center of the screen, its flashing rays a clear warning that it was not to be trifled with. Its gravity well encompassed all space; no matter where you were, if you did not move you would be drawn into the sun and destroyed. (As a gesture of good will towards less skillful or beginning players, a switch option turned annihilation into a sort of hyperspatial translation to the "anti-point," i.e. the four corners of the screen.)
The star did two things. It introduced a player-independent element that the game needed; when speeds were high and space was filled with missiles, it was often sheer luck that kept one from crashing into the star. It also brought the other elements of the game into focus by demanding strategy. In the presence of gravity both ships were affected by something beyond their control, but which a skillful player could use to advantage."
--Martin Graetz
"With the basic game there was no impetus to do anything, you could just sit in your corner and start blasting away. In order to get things flowing, Dan Edwards added a heavy star in the center of the screen that exerted a realistic force on the ships. Now if you did nothing you would be drawn into the star and destroyed. This made the game much more dynamic, you had to start moving to stay alive, and at high speeds it could be hard to avoid running into the star. At the same time you had to predict your motion based not only on your own moves, but the effects of the gravity as well. More than any other feature, this is the one which made the game fun."
--Maury Markowitz
Skill-based play:
"The first result of this new attention to strategy was the opening move quickly dubbed the "CBS opening" because of its eye-like shape. The ships turn slightly away from the star and fire a short rocket blast (note the needle-ship's exhaust) to get into a comet-type orbit, then rotate the other way to try shooting torpedoes at the opponent. It took a while to learn this maneuver but it soon became the standard opening among experienced players, as it generally produced the most exciting games."
--Martin Graetz
"The force of the star was relatively high compared to your engines, so when the game starts players often fired their engines radially just enough to avoid hitting the star (limited fuel remember). This left them whipping around the star while attempting to draw a bead on the opposing player. Since both players did this the resulting paths of the ships on the screen formed an eye-like shape that was dubbed the "CBS opening"."
--Maury Markowitz
"A talented player could aim torpedos such that their trajectory would be deflected by the sun's gravitational force until it intersected with the other player's ship."
--Michael Stern
"The speed of the torpedo was added to the speed of the ship, allowing for fancy effects like firing in the opposite direction of travel while at high speed, leaving an almost stationary "mine" in space."
--Maury Markowitz
Increasing complexity (2):
"Martin Graetz added his hyperspace function to the game in March. This allowed you to make your ship disappear from the screen for a short period of time and then reappear, along with your original motion, in some random location. Because the location was random it was possible to reappear flying right into the sun or in front of a torpedo. It was still a pretty powerful move as it was, so they added a counter -- on the third try you exploded."
--Maury Markowitz
More complex = More interesting:
"The heavy star itself was not entirely Newtonian. The common tactic of plunging down the gravity well to gain momentum by whipping around the sun gave you somewhat more energy than you were really entitled to. As this just made the game more interesting, nothing was immediately done to correct it."
--Martin Graetz
"Subsequent versions on newer computers have got enough computing time so that they can afford to use gravity for the torpedoes, and that makes it a more interesting game."
--Steve Russell
Eye candy is good for you:
"Early on the random starfield was added by Steve. Without the background it was hard to judge relative movement of the ships at slow speeds. Adding the stars made motion more obvious, as well as making the display more attractive. But Pete Samson was so annoyed by the random stars that he sat down and wrote a program called "Expensive Planetarium". It drew a realistic starfield with all of the stars as seen from Earth down to magnitude 5.5. The code was quickly added to Spacewar, where the starfield slowly drifts across the screen, a 24 hour day passing in about an hour."
--Maury Markowitz
"And then Pete Samson wrote a program called Expensive Planetarium. There were a whole family of "Expensive" programs on the PDP-1, at a time when even the most rudimentary computer tasks required massive outlays of manpower and federal grant money. There was Expensive Typewriter, which did just what a typewriter did, except it was much more expensive, and there was Expensive Desk Calculator, which was something similar. Expensive Planetarium displayed the star map sort of as you'd see it looking out the window, and I incorporated that as a background. [...] And that made it a much better game, because with the stars in the background, you could estimate the motion of the ships much better than when they were just on a dead black background."
--Steve Russell
"One of the forces driving the dedicated hacker is the quest for elegance. It is not sufficient to write programs that work. They must also be "elegant," either in code or in function -- both, if possible. An elegant program does its job as fast as possible, or is as compact as possible, or is as clever as possible in taking advantage of the particular features of the machine in which it runs, and (finally) produces its results in an aesthetically pleasing form without compromising either the results or operation of other programs associated with it.
"Peter Samson," recalls Russell, "was offended by my random stars." In other words, while a background of miscellaneous points of light might be all very well for some run-down jerkwater space fleet, it just wouldn't do for the Galactic Patrol. So Peter Samson sat down and wrote "Expensive Planetarium."
Using data from the American Ephemeris and Nautical Almanac, Samson encoded the entire night sky (down to just above fifth magnitude) between 22 1/2 ° N and 22 1/2 ° S, thus including most of the familiar constellations. The display can remain fixed or move gradually from right to left, ultimately displaying the entire cylinder of stars. The elegance does not stop there. By firing each display point the appropriate number of times, Samson was able to produce a display that showed the stars at something close to their actual relative brightness. An attractive demonstration program in its own right, Expensive Planetarium was "duly admired and inhaled into Spacewar!"
--Martin Graetz
Spacewar! ver. 1.0:
"That's the basic version that was released in April 1962: two ships controlled by the console switches, the central sun with its flashing rays and strong gravity, a complete starmap in the background, and the basic "three strikes" hyperspace option."
--Maury Markowitz
"It wasn't long before all sorts of new features were being added at MIT. Meanwhile DEC started shipping the game inside the memory of their machines. At the time computers didn't lose their memory when they were turned off, so you could tell if your shiny new computer was working right if it started playing Spacewar when you plugged it in.
And that let Spacewar loose on the world when DEC machines became a huge force in the 60's. Additions at other sites came in fast and furious. These versions were typically named after the university where they were created, so the world ended up with "Utah Spacewar" and so on.
Some of these additions include:
-more complex hyperspace that slowly increased the chance of exploding
-score keeping
-setting the amount of fuel or torpedoes
-whether "glancing" shots did only partial damage
(I liked this one, you could shoot off an engine for instance)
-how many torpedoes could be on the screen at once
-a cloaking device that made the ship invisible
(but you could still see torpedoes and the flame of the engine)
-whether the sun was visible or a black hole
-whether or not the sun killed you if you hit it
-space mines near the sun to make it more dangerous"
--Maury Markowitz
"At first we used the PDP's row of tabletop toggle switches as game controllers. You had four controls: rotate counterclockwise, rotate clockwise, turn on your rocket thrust, which caused a little tail of rocket exhaust to show on the screen, and torpedo. The torpedoes were proximity-fused, so that when they got close to something they blew up. If it was another torpedo, they both blew up, and if it was another spaceship, they both blew up. So it would work as a defensive weapon, because you could blow other torpedoes out of the sky if they were coming at you. But we very quickly found that your elbows got tired, because the table was hard and not quite at a convenient height. So we and many other people hooked up controllers which were basically four buttons in a row that you could control your spaceship with."
--Steve Russell
"The controls were far from optimal. For one thing the display was to one side of the console, so one player ended up with a better view. Other operating controls were located just below the switches, so it was possible to kill the game by mistake by hitting the wrong one in the heat of battle. And they tended to break down a lot too; they were designed to be flipped a few hundred times a month, not a few hundred times every five minutes!
To avoid these problems players quickly built their own control panels for the game, some of the first being various parts liberated from the stock room of the Tech Model Railroad Club. Later players created joysticks using Air Force pilot control sticks found at army surplus stores, and the first version of a trackball was used at one point."
--Maury Markowitz
"The first CRT display was a converted oscilloscope used to play Spacewar. The first trackball (and thus, the first mouse) was a Spacewar control at MIT."
--Michael Stern