Sometimes, the best games are the ones you make yourself.
At the turn of the last century, options for play were decidedly simple. Sliding down cellar doors, hollering down rain barrels and climbing apple trees were at the height of popularity.
But the world progressed and technology along with it. By the mid-century mark, gameplay could be found, personified in fact, by that new wonder of the Atomic Age: injection-molded plastic. That feat of engineering was closely followed by the perfection of transistors; resistors; magnets and electronics of all shapes and sizes; circuits; boards; buttons; knobs; and poles, culminating in the coin-operated videogame arcade machine.
Arcade machines were fun, of course, but the games were hard-wired into circuits. You couldn't change them, even if you wanted. From soldering iron to dev kit, the console games that followed would be rigid and require special equipment to make; those rules were set.
Personal computers changed that. With disk space and operating systems, games could now be programmed as executables. The number of original games programmed for the Apple II exploded. You could make a game yourself. You could play someone else's game - you could even change existing games. Now, technology was letting people take fun into their own hands.
Enter the Frogger
South by Southwest Interactive is the yearly conference for technorati and the Net Set held in Austin, Texas. Speakers sit on panels discussing the latest issues in technology, gaming and communication, all in an atmosphere of good barbeque and good beer.
There's even one story - now a legend - of what happened on the night of March 14, 2006. After the closing conference party, a small group of journalists and techies met in Peter Ludlow's Second Life Herald hospitality suite, at the Driskill Hotel. There was still a bottle of tequila, and other work to be done that night.
As the party started, Philip Torrone and Limor Fried entered, carrying a bag of supplies. They made for the kitchen. One of those robot vacuum cleaners, a Roomba, appeared. Fried, an R&D fellow from Eyebeam, began to cut a green T-shirt into strips.
Torrone, a senior editor at Make magazine, explained to a reporter from C|Net News that he'd rewired the robot's remote control, and by using Bluetooth was able to drive the Roomba with his laptop.
Word spread through the suite. The reporter began to take photographs, and the Roomba took shape. As foam cups were taped in place and green fabric fitted, the Roomba Frogger rolled across the floor.
The historic downtown hotel happens to overlook Austin's Sixth Street, and the Second Life Herald suite happened to have the third floor balcony. Looking down upon the street gave an identical perspective to that classic of the arcades, Frogger.
The anticipation turned into debate about how long poor Frogger would last in live traffic, how soon before the police would arrive and how good a player it takes to beat the real-life game.
By 2:00 in the morning, the robot was ready. The Roomba went back and forth across the street. On the 10th trip across four lanes of traffic, Frogger got crushed by a white SUV. After they picked up the debris, everyone laughed and remarked on the world's first coin-op-inspired vacuum cleaner game.
The next morning C|net's News.com ran the story, which went on to become one of the outlet's most-read stories of the year. "Once you get a taste of Roomba Frogger," noted Ludlow, "you can't get enough."
That C|net News reporter was Daniel Terdiman, who is no stranger to covering games and technology. What first attracted him to games, he says, was emergence. "I just loved the things that people were doing with games that were never expected by the publishers."