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THE MOVEABLE HERITAGE
HOW THE
EVOLUTION OF COMPUTER GAMES OBSCURES THEIR OWN HISTORY AND
WHAT CAN BE DONE ABOUT IT
There are two types of technology, mature and evolving. Mature technology has reached the peak of
its development; there might be some incremental improvements, and perhaps
changes in production methods that are not noticed by the user except perhaps
as reflected in improvements in cost or quality. Evolving technology embodies constant change
that is most assuredly noticed by the user, who sees a steady progress in
capabilities and usefulness, and sometimes in declining costs as well. Every technology goes through both
stages. Taking a simple but critical
example, edged tools and weapons went through an evolutionary phase that
lasted tens of thousands of years, from the first hand axes into more sophisticated
stone artifacts, such as obsidian knives and flint arrowheads, into the ages
of copper, bronze, iron and steel.
Toward the end though, the march of technology slowed, then
effectively ceased, as a steel kitchen knife of 2002 performs essentially the
same as one of a hundred or two hundred years previously. In the field of weaponry, the Japanese katana
may well be the best cutting sword ever devised, and so now its craftsmen see
their role not to improve upon it, but to lock the technology and its
production methods in place, enshrining them as sacred elements of the
Japanese cultural heritage. One might even see some regression from the
technological peak. In the Middle
Ages, Arab swordsmiths manufactured weapons from Damascus steel. These beautiful blades had unique swirling
designs in their metal, held a razor’s edge, and never rusted. Unfortunately though, the recipe for
Damascus steel is now as lost as the The dawn of the twenty-first century is one of
swift evolution in some critical technologies. Communications technologies improve and
expand rapidly in ways that were utterly unpredictable twenty-five to thirty
years ago. Consider for example the
mobile telephone, which in the late sixties was a unit filling the trunk of a
car, and used chiefly by executives in limousines, and by TV detectives. But since the early eighties, it shrank to
a package that fit into a shoulder bag, or a hand unit a little smaller than
a World War II walkie talkie, then shrank further to something smaller than a
pack of cigars, and in some cases now folds to a size a little bigger than a
matchbox. At the same time, the capabilities
improve. Originally, cellular phones
used a fairly primitive analog system, with erratic sound quality and
security, but now rely mainly on clear-sounding encrypted digital signals. Text messaging, interactive games, and
color graphics are now arriving with third-generation (“3G”) technology;
whether they live up to the promises of the vendors’ hype remains to be seen,
but whether or not consumers embrace it, the technology remains impressive. Correspondingly, the price of mobile phone
service declines, and market penetration accelerates. What was the exclusive status symbol of the
rich and famous in 1969 is cheap and available to all in 2002. Mobile phone technology has become so
inexpensive, easy to implement and pervasive, that it is a very attractive
alternative to poor countries lacking the wherewithal for extensive landline
networks. Then too there is the Internet. The evolution of the personal computer is
central to the communications revolution.
Since 1965, when Gordon Moore first stated that computers’ processing
power would double every eighteen months, Moore’s Law has been a valid rule
of thumb to describe and predict the geometric pace of that technology’s
evolution. Even so, it does not do
full justice to the way that the price of the technologies
involved-------whether microprocessors or memory chips or hard
drives-------entered into a downward spiral that enabled market penetration
on a scale similar to mobile telephones. A TALE OF TWO TECHNOLOGIES
There are two distinct technologies that provide the essential
venues in wargaming. One is that of
the paper wargame, and the other personal computer. Each consists of two basic parts in turn. The traditional manual wargame has the
material of its components, an amalgam of cardboard and ink in the familiar
components; map, rulebook, unit counters, maybe some charts and tables on
separate player’s aid cards. In some
cases there might be additional specialized pieces, such as specialized
playing cards, plastic unit stands, and most too include dice. Together, these constitute a very mature technology. The fundamental form and format of the
board wargame has been established for about forty years. There are variations of course, such as
mounted or unmounted maps, and shapes and sizes of the counters. Even the graphic standards have been fairly
steady for the last couple of decades; there might have been a burst of
improvement in color printing and computer graphics starting about fifteen
years ago, but after some dramatically rising standards, they have leveled
off for the most part in the last ten years.
Even without the most modern graphics, a game from before that era,
say an SPI title from the late seventies, retains a recognizable form, and
the aesthetics of the map especially are comparable with the standards of
2002. The second part of the manual boardgame can be described best as
language. That too is mature. The language of the game is more than the form of English, French,
Spanish, Japanese or whatever tongue the designer and publisher happen to
speak. It is the comprehensive set of
concepts, methods and approaches customarily used in games. Zones of control, sequence of play, combat
results tables, all happen to be established elements of wargame design. They extend too toward specific
conventions; the movement-combat sequence within distinct and separate player
turns, for example, is the predominate form of the sequence of play, and
zones of control, where they exist, usually extend into the six immediately
adjacent hexes. Such conventions are
so accepted that many, if not most, board wargames derive their unique
identities through variations on their themes rather than through complete
rejection of them. There have been
some relatively recent innovations, particularly the introduction of actions
and variable initiative to sequences of play, but even these tend to be
measured against the old ways, using the traditional approaches as
benchmarks. Rules formats too have firmed into a universally recognized
form. Writing styles may differ and so
may organization to an extent, but the vast majority of wargames use a single
rulebook with game functions laid out in clearly-defined cases. At one time there were other methods, such
as the introductory rule card and “Battle Manual” in some older Avalon Hill
games. Ultimately these proved to be
evolutionary dead ends, whereas the notion of the single, comprehensive
rulebook ended up as the enduring one by about 1975. Computer wargames have their own roots in board wargaming, and
share with it many of the same concepts and practices. The mainstream of computer historical
simulations share with their paper brethren hexes to regulate movement, a
turn-based sequence of play, and the functional equivalent of, if not the
always the same term for, zones of control. The two defining, underlying elements of computer wargame
technology are the same as those in all other manifestations of personal
computer revolution, hardware and software.
The hardware is obvious; it is the computer on which the game in
played, along with the network and Internet connections. Even if one is playing solitaire, the
latter are increasingly necessary to acquire patches, upgrades and new
scenarios. The software side is, naturally, the game itself, the executable
files and all that support them. It
actually goes even further. Connected
intimately with the graphics card and monitor, the digital artwork and the
graphics constitute part of the software component as well. So does the artificial intelligence. Both might be contained within the files, but their full
importance cannot be expressed only in terms of how many files there are or
how much space they take up on the hard drive. The graphics are just as essential to the
game as they are to any boardgame, and if they fail, are the part most likely
wreck the player’s first impression.
Sound quality is similar, in that it is a function of hardware (sound
card, speakers) as well as software (music files), and there is a big
difference between punctuating gameplay with CD-quality clips of the
Tchaikovsky, for instance, or a bunch of ineffectual beeps. There is one part of the computer environment, determined by
software, and which both encompasses all aspects of the game’s design and
presentation, but which can invite little scrutiny. That is the operating system. In the personal computer world, there have
been three operating systems of any importance, at least when it comes to
games, all from Microsoft. DOS [Disk
Operating System] is the original, command-line based system, and the one on
which nearly all users first became acquainted with desktop computing in the
eighties and early nineties. Windows
3.1 was the first truly successful Microsoft operating system to have a
graphic user interface, but was actually less of an operating system than a
set of common functions and an interfaced overlaid atop DOS. Windows 95 pioneered the idea of putting
the Windows approach front and center, and making the DOS code an auxiliary,
and was the first to use a 32-bit system of true multitasking. That was subsequently followed on by a
series of incrementally-improving iterations, with the current one being
Windows XP. The look and feel of games designed around each operating system
varies greatly. So does the experience
of play; it should be remembered that DOS was designed as an operating system
in which the keyboard was the primary input device, with the mouse assisting
sometimes, whereas the Windows systems were all build around input from the
mouse, with occasional help from the keyboard. That distinction has a strong effect on the
use of pull-down menus and icons, drag-and-drop, and such very basic game
functions as choosing options and saving games. Additionally, for years DOS-based games
were not even designed to use a mouse. The changes in operating systems and their capabilities amount
to both a cause and a symptom of the rapid evolution of personal computer
technology as seen by the wargamer.
Paper stayed the same, but just as Moore’s Law reflects the rapid
growth of hardware capabilities, the steady evolution of the operating
systems is indicative that software moves in the same direction. PAPER TRANSPARENCY
As a definitely mature platform, paper offers
some very clear advantages to wargaming.
To start with, the players do not need much else to play, just a table
and chairs, and perhaps a sheet of plexiglass to hold down the map. By contrast, buying a computer game hardly
means that one can put it together with some furniture and clear plastic and
get right to the business of playing the game; there is that other
prerequisite, which calls for a major investment in a suitable computer. That calls for the money to buy it, and the
time to learn its operation. All of this might sound perfectly obvious on
one level, usually involving the price of the computer. But even an extremely dedicated computer
gamer who does not use his machine for any other purpose still has to know
something about the workings of his operating system, and probably the
configuration of his display, and for an online game there is still the
matter of establishing a connection over the Internet with one’s
opponents. Deconstructing the process
proves that it calls for far more knowledge than just unfolding the map and
punching the counters, and none of that should be taken for granted. The technology of the paper wargame draws upon
the capabilities of one component that is always present: The gamer
himself. Of course all games,
regardless of the platform, take on life only when played. But manual wargames demand that the players
do more than just make decisions and interact with each other. There is no artificial intelligence, only the
real thing. Computer games call upon software
and the laws of probability to provide a steady stream of decision-making,
but board wargames employ the human brain and the human brain alone to
perform these functions. There are
exceptions in the form of a few boardgames designed as strictly solitaire
affairs, but these are never more than scattered exceptions to the rule; even
standard two- and multiplayer games played solitaire rely on a human brain
for all of the strategies and tactics.
It shifts gears as the switch in player roles changes objectives and
interests, but ultimately the role remains the same. The human element is also what interprets and
administers the rules and mechanics of the game. Again, there is no machine intelligence for
these tasks, nor for record-keeping or tracking time. This has one overarching consequence: Constant
player involvement and immersion in the details of the game. That goes beyond strategic decisions into
all the functions, major and minor, that keep the game going. Combat resolution is one constant among those
details, and players get to see how the machinery constructed by the designer
and developer work. Whether the system
is simple or straightforward on a par with the Avalon Hill “Classics” or SPI
quads, or a detailed method of tracking the fire, impact, and damage of each
gunshot in an elaborate tactical game, the player gets to see the whole
process from attack declaration to implementation of the results. There is a lot to be learned through the
transparency of paper wargames. At the
top level, one can learn much of the history being simulated through the map,
orders of battle, and victory conditions.
Underlying them, there is also a clear view of the interactions that
make a game a game, and an active learning tool. One can see the command structures, models
of combat, maybe insights into relative layman’s esoterica such as morale,
production and economics. In games
that eschew the traditional player turn-geared, move and fight sequence of
play in favor of impulses and actions, even a different view of time itself,
in which the designer attempts to capture unpredictable rhythms on the
battlefield, instead of attempting to force everything into the rigid
constraints of the conventional calendar. Disagree with the designer, one usually gets a
good look at his perspective and intentions.
Where there is some controversy or ambiguity, there might also be
notes to explain the rationale behind a design decision. In general, a player can look at a boardgame
as a coherent, interactive whole, one in which every process is visible, and
in which the player himself is constantly involved. There is a depth and breadth of perspective
and, at the same time, an intimacy that one especially feels with the best
wargames. As with books and
their authors, there is an additional opportunity to weigh the viewpoints of
designers against each other. A gamer
can compare and contrast differing portrayals of the same or similar
subjects, and get a good look at how the designers agree and disagree, and
the varying emphasis that each gives to various elements. OPAQUE ELECTRONS
Looking back at the
first titles from SSI in the late seventies, one sees a clear attempt to port
the boardgaming experience to the nascent technology of the desktop
computer. That was the main thrust of
computer strategy gaming for over a decade and a half, as the multitude of
turn-based games with hex-based game maps illustrated. There were arcade-type games, flight
simulators, tank simulators, roleplaying games (fantasy and otherwise), and a
smattering of real time games that got rid of game turns, the first version
of Harpoon (Three-Sixty Pacific) most important among them. But with the exception of Harpoon,
which is actually the computerization of a set of miniatures rules, none bore
much in relation to the established families of military board wargames, and
thus should be considered as entirely different genres. Later in the timeline,
real time strategy [RTS] games came into their own, with a host of
exceptionally popular titles, among them the Command and Conquer
(Westwood), Warcraft (Blizzard) and Age of Empires (Microsoft)
franchises. They represent the most
exciting innovation ever in computer wargaming, and the first really
significant break with manual boardgame traditions. Thus, like simulators and roleplaying games
for the computer, they deserve consideration separately from turn-based
computer wargames. Computer wargames as
originally conceived were intended to relieve the player of some of the less
pleasant burdens associated with cardboard simulations. There was the matter of finding an
opponent. From the very beginning,
computer games counted as one of their chief assets having an opponent in a
box. The artificial intelligence
component was a gamer who never went to work, was always interested in
playing whatever the player wanted, and did not get up from the game table to
order pizza. That artificial
intelligence often played predictably and poorly, and in many software titles
still does, was considered an acceptable trade off for convenience. Furthermore, computer
games have another extremely valuable asset through their suitability for
limiting intelligence. One of the most
persistent, and valid, criticisms of boardgames is that they allow the player
far more information than his real-life counterpart would have in an actual
conflict. Limited intelligence rules
are of widely varying sophistication and usefulness, and attempts at
double-blind games have been spotty, with the best success coming out of
naval gaming. The only really
dependable and realistic methods of limiting intelligence come from having a
neutral umpire decide what each player might see on his map, but this suffers
from a couple of serious handicaps.
One is the difficulty of finding a third, knowledgeable gamer willing
to invest his time and effort as a game master. The second is constructing house rules that
work around both the game and the personalities of the participants. Computer software handles
everything easily and, if programmed correctly, well. Computer games increase realism of
battlefield perception by eliminating omniscience, and inversely increasing
the potential for surprise. Along with a built-in
opponent and umpire, there is also an entire office of built-in
bookkeepers. The computer game format
frees players from all the paperwork, tracking and other tasks that, despite
one’s love for the subject and of the hobby, can be tedious in the extreme. This also results in
the freedom for designers to make finer distinctions than would be possible
in a boardgame. For example, in a
manual wargame, the ability of the system to simulate losses is limited by
the paper format’s ability to portray them, and the players’ ability to track
them. For example, most units have at
most three increments of strength; full strength, reduced, and
destroyed. To a great degree, this is
because it is convenient to simulate losses by flipping a unit counter to
show the first step loss, then removing it from play. Some games, such as 1914 and Anzio
(both Avalon Hill) attempted in the early years of the hobby to portray
additional shades of damage by substituting lower-strength counters with each
step loss. However, this method has
always been limited by practical matters of keeping the counter mix to a
reasonable (and affordable) quantity.
It has had its uses, such as in a number of issue games for Command
magazine, but has always been secondary. Computers have limits
neither on countermix nor on the ability of the machine intelligence to
measure in small increments. Thus
whereas a boardgame might measure casualties in terms of a thirds or halves
of combat strength, a computer game can shave it down to portraying losses of
individual vehicles, squads, even individual soldiers among thousands
engaged. Additionally, it enables the
designer to introduce more vectors to the portrayal of unit state and
capability. Morale and fatigue go from
tactical games and those on pre-mechanized conflicts to twentieth-century
operational ones. With the possible
exception of enhanced simulation of limited intelligence, each advantage of
computer wargames over their paper brethren comes at a price that is easily
overlooked. Each removes the player
from some important aspect of the simulation.
Players can no longer follow the combat resolution process from start
to finish, and see exactly how each element fits, and finally the interaction
among them. At its most basic, combat
resolution in a computer wargame consists of instructing which units should
fight which enemies, and seeing the results when it is all over a few seconds
later. This sometimes removes
a complex burden from the players. It
always removes insights. This is just the start
of the opaque nature of computer wargames, as much happens for which the
player can see the results, but not the process. Indeed, the processes are purposely and
effectively hidden in many cases, to the extent that when there is a problem,
such as with faulty combat resolution, many times the only way to find out is
to read any notes that accompany a patch.
The rest of the time, many elements of the game function behind a
curtain. Not everything is
totally hidden, and one can still see important differences among games. For example, in the late eighties and early
nineties, there were two contrasting approaches to Civil War tactical
gaming. SSI published brigade-level
games such as Gettysburg: The Turning Point and Shiloh: Grant’s
Trial in the West that looked into combat with some detail, but which had
graphics that were on the crude side, even for their time. On the other side, the Australian company
SSG put out its Decisive Battles of the American Civil War series,
which accented command and control and a more generalized approach to orders,
somewhat reminiscent of the boardgame Civil War, Brigade Series,
published by The Gamers. The SSG games
had much better graphics, in part reflecting their origins on the Commodore
64 platform, and further were packaged as multiple scenarios within the same
package. In effect they were, and
unlike the SSI games, provided a scenario editor------dubbed
“Warpaint”-----that presaged the future. Even the most casual
observer could see that the SSI and SSG titles represented vastly different
approaches to simulating the same topic based on vastly different
philosophies. The former was
interested in the intricacies of combat and the details of its effects on
brigades, and the latter concentrated on larger issues of command and
control. Yet the inner workings
of both were screened from the players.
The documentation of the SSI Civil War games, as common for software
from that company at the time, did explain the methodology of morale and combat
to a most unusual degree by today’s standards, yet the workings of the
artificial intelligence were as vague as ever. From the Australian publisher, the manuals
were more limited to play mechanics and employment of Warpaint. Regardless of which
approach one examines, it is evident at first examination that neither one
explains everything that goes on in the game.
Wanting to understand everything might sound like an entirely
unrealistic expectation, but everything is precisely what one sees of the inner
workings of any boardgame. Therein lies one of
the primary problems of recording the history and heritage of computer
wargames. There affinity for limited
intelligence goes beyond the events that they simulate, and what the player
sees, to their own identity, and what is seen and recorded for the
future. The details of the SSI game
manuals of ten to fifteen years ago not withstanding, the intentions and
methodologies of the designers of all computer games are at partially hidden. SHIFTING PLATFORMS As a mature
technology, paper requires nothing more than one’s eyes to read and
analyze. Software requires a computer
and its operating system, and those continue to evolve, sometimes rendering a
computer unplayable as “legacy” software. One can see this in
the world of Apple software. The first
SSI wargames were designed for the Apple II, and for the first few years of
computer wargaming’s history it, along with the Commodore 64, was the favored
platform for military games; the now-standard personal computer with a
Microsoft operating system was a relative latecomer. Then in 1983, Apple
introduced the MacIntosh, a completely new machine that represented a quantum
advance over the Apple II, and in fact all the other desktop platforms of the
time. It was also completely
incompatible with the systems and software that preceded it, thus on the day
that Apple introduced the Mac, it rendered the established Apple II obsolete. For the computer world, it was as pivotal
an event as the launch of HMS Dreadnought was in the history of
battleships, as in both cases one development shoved everything else into the
past. There would be no more games for
the Apple II, and as the earlier model of computers faded from the scene, the
existing games would become unplayable. IBM-compatible
computer users experienced something similar beginning about ten years
later. In the early days of that
technology, the floppy disks on which software was packaged were 5.25” in
size, with 360 kilobytes capacity.
Moreover, since hard drives were not installed in all computers,
software was generally run from the floppies themselves. There was also an
emerging form of floppy, 3.5” square and holding 720K of data, but it was
secondary to the 5.25” variety. Around
the early nineties, if one bought a wargame, there was often a choice of
floppy sizes, but if only one was offered in a store, it was with 5.25”
disks. Double density
diskettes in turn faded, replaced by high density ones with double the
capacity. At the same time the 5.25”
floppy drive faded away, so that unless transferred to hard drives or
larger-capacity floppies, the software and data contained on them became as
inaccessible as anything compiled for the Apple II or Commodore. One can see the same
phenomenon continuing today. Today,
software is invariably sold on CD-ROM’s, and the CD-R and CD-RW drives allow
the user to store information in much greater amounts, and at extremely low
cost, than could ever be possible with floppies of any sort. In the future, DVD technology is sure do
the same to CD’s what they did to floppy disks. Operating systems on
the personal computer evolve similarly.
In the beginning there was DOS, and games were written for it. Then came the introduction and evolution of
Windows, and with each iteration DOS and all the software that were built
around it melted into the mass of what users so politely call “legacy”
technology. Today, much DOS
software-----and not just games by any means-----require special
configuration, especially for memory allocation, boot disks, and other
expedients if they are to work at all.
Other titles are not so fortunate, and are totally unadaptable to the
32-bit Windows environment; the GW-BASIC and SBASIC programming languages are
among the more noticeable examples. Each step in the
evolution of the hardware, especially storage media, and each new version of
Windows makes a little more of software’s history and heritage obsolete and
inaccessible. In computers at least,
progress always demands the sacrifice of some of the past. One might wonder why
it would be important or even all that desirable to play ten or
fifteen-year-old computer wargames when there are so many newer, more
sophisticated ones readily available.
The answer is that understanding the old ones is essential to
comprehending the origins of the newer ones.
Likewise, a sound grasp of all generations of software’s history is a
prerequisite to producing the improved wargames of the future; unfortunately
though, each step along that history makes that a little more difficult. CONCLUSIONS The two fundamental
problems of learning and analyzing the heritage of computer wargaming are the
opaqueness of how the games work, and the erosion of that history through
technical obsolescence. With the problems
defined, the next step is to look for solutions, or at least partial
remedies. The march of
technology and the relegation of previously dominant elements, such as
old-style storage media and operating systems, is inexorable. Some players with real interest in vintage
games go so far as to keep an obsolete computer, such as an old DOS-based
machine or even a Commodore 64, just for games. This can be surprisingly cost effective
since old computers can be had for a price below scrap value-----In some
cases, an ancient Commodore sells for twenty-five dollars at flea
markets. The downside is that very few
people have the space to set up antique desktop units of limited usefulness,
though there are some who use obsolete laptops for games. On the other hand, the
DOS to Windows transition has been somewhat kinder to legacy software than
was the move from Apple II to the Mac.
DOS software can be difficult, due to the need to match up the right
hardware drivers, configure sound and video, and maybe worst of all, manage
memory for the games that use EMS memory.
Then again, DOS software always had these issues, but in past years
few IBM/Intel/Microsoft users noticed, because there was nothing better for
comparison. Publishers and other
copyright holders have greater opportunities to preserve their older titles
for the benefit of the present and future.
Game software goes through four phases in its lifetime. It begins as a major new release, sold at
full price. Depending on the game’s
reception by critics and consumers as well as the evolutionary state of its
platform, this stage can last a few months or a few years, as is the case
with some perennial favorites. Second,
it falls back from the leading edge, and its price falls correspondingly;
maybe it is published with an expansion kit.
In the third stage, the software sells for a really cut-rate price,
with ten dollars being the normal price anymore at Wal-Mart, in a single-CD
package, and a manual in Adobe reader format instead of printed documentation. Sometimes too it might be included in an
anthology (remember SSI’s Definitive Wargame Collection?) or, common
today, in a twin-CD set with some other topically-related title. The final stage in a computer
wargame’s life cycle is death, as it disappears altogether from store
shelves. Publishers can
perpetuate the history of computer gaming by making titles in or on their way
to the fourth stage available for free.
Some already go even further than that, by putting out new and
improved editions of aging games and then making available for free download
from the Web: SSG did this with a new version of Ardennes Offensive in
1997. Matrix Games goes further,
acquiring the rights to SSI’s War in Russia and War in the Pacific
from current copyright holder Hasbro, with the condition that the updated
games be given away and not sold. Definitely the same
alliance produced the best example of all time, Steel Panthers: World at
War. Matrix acquired a license to
adapt the Steel Panthers III engine to the smaller scale perspective
of the first Steel Panthers, again with the proviso that the game not
be sold. To make it even better,
Matrix’s team redesigned the entire project for the 32-bit Windows
environment; ultimately Steel Panthers: World at War does not preserve
an institution of wargame history in amber, it perpetuates it as a vital,
living part of the hobby. Barring this,
publishers can also keep their own product history alive through supporting
“abandonware” web sites by making their own older titles available. A title’s evolution will not continue in
the pattern of those taken over by Matrix Games, but at least the past will
be kept alive. In addition, for those
who bought games on 5.25” floppies but never copied them to more current
media, downloading the title cancels that neglect. It is impossible to
totally overcome the lack of transparency among the processes within a
computer wargame. However, there is
one measure that can help, at least among the more technically savvy members
of the hobby. When a game reaches the
fourth stage of its life, the publisher should consider making the source
code available to the public. This would give
programmers and game designers opportunities to see not just what the
software does, but how it does it.
Again, not many people would have sufficient technical background to
get the most out of that chance, but that chance would at least exist. The cost to the
copyright holder would be minimal. It
requires almst no investment, and if a game is no longer economically viable
and is leaving the market anyway, there will be little or no lost revenue due
to decreased sales. There is one final
question: Why? Why should a publisher
make products available for free, and then reveal the underlying
programming? General principle is not
a compelling reason, and for that matter neither is an academic appeal to the
preservation of computer gaming’s heritage. Companies should make
the effort because it increases the general awareness and specialized
competence of designers and programmers that might end up on their
payroll. Professionals, and future
professionals, in the industry should be able to see what their predecessors
did and learn from them, in order to apply those lessons to future products. Committing to
preserving and learning from past achievements is not a cure-all for all the
issues of quality and reliability that affect the software industry at large,
any more than a general staff’s commitment to military history can insure
that it will win future wars. But a
broader and deeper understanding of the achievements-----and failures-----of
others in the profession can result in less duplication of effort over the
long term, and better exploitation of previous accomplishments, all yielding
more economical and efficient allocation of effort and resources. No one in 2005 should be called up to
reinvent the wheel, but they should have the tools to design a better one at
a lower price. For the consumer, that
increases the chance of better products with stable pricing too. Simultaneously, putting the heritage of the
industry and the hobby on the table increases the probability of greater
knowledge and judgment among reviews and the consumers themselves, thereby
adding yet greater impetus toward better quality. Knowledge
and understanding really are power, and if the history and heritage of
computer wargaming can be preserved and analyzed, then everyone gains. And that is everyone, producers as well as
consumers. |
