courses
himself, and then, if he earned grades that she deemed worthy, he would be reimbursed.
In the fall of 1988, the eighteen-year-old Carmack reluctantly enrolled at the University
of Kansas, where he signed up for an entire schedule of computer classes. It was a
miserable time. He couldn’t relate to the students, didn’t care about keg parties
and frat houses. Worse were the classes, based on memorizing information from textbooks.
There was no challenge, no creativity. The tests weren’t just dull, they were insulting.
“Why can’t you just give us a project and let us perform it?” Carmack scrawled on
the back of one of his exams. “I can perform anything you want me to!” After enduring
two semesters, he dropped out.
Much to his mother’s chagrin, Carmack took a part-time job at a pizza parlor and immersed
himself in his second game, Wraith . It was an exhausting process that required him constantly to insert and eject floppy
disks in order to save the data because his Apple II GS didn’t come with a hard drive.
He labored over a story included in the game’s “about” file:
WRAITH
“THE DEVIL’S DEMISE”
For a long while all was peaceful on the island of Arathia. Your duties as protector
of the temple of Metiria at Tarot were simple and uneventful. Recently things have
changed. An unknown influence has caused the once devout followers of the true god
Metiria to waver in their faith.
Corruption has spread through the island, with whispers of an undead being of great
might granting power to those who would serve. The lords of the realms fell to him
one by one, and monsters now roam the land. The temple at Tarot is the last outpost
of true faith, and you may be Arathia’s last hope for redemption.
Last night, as you prayed for strength and guidance, Metiria came to you in a vision,
bestowing upon you the quest to destroy the Wraith. She spoke solemnly, alerting you
to the dangers which lay ahead. The only way to reach the hell that the Wraith rules
from is by way of an interplanar gate somewhere in Castle Strafire, stronghold of
his most powerful earthly minions.
Although the castle is only a short distance away from Tarot, on an island to the
northeast, a terrible reef prevents it from being reached by conventional means. You
only know that monsters have come from the castle and turned up on the mainland. Remember,
although many have been seduced by the power of the Wraith, greed still rules their
hearts, and some may even aid your quest if paid enough gold. As the vision fades,
Metiria smiles and says, “Fear not, brave one, my blessing is upon you.”
You have begun preparing yourself for your quest, but even the townspeople seem unwilling
to help you. They insist on gold for equipment and spells. Gold you do not have. Gold
that the servants of the Wraith do have . . .
Carmack sent the game to Nite Owl, the publisher of Shadowforge, which snapped it
up. Though the graphics were not breakthrough—they had the chunky stick figures of
most games—the game was huge in scope compared with most titles, offerings hours more
of play. He earned twice as much this time, two thousand dollars, despite the fact
that the game, like Shadowforge, was not a big seller. Carmack used the cash to finance
his other hobby: modifying his car, a brown MGB.
Though he was barely getting by, Carmack relished the freelance lifestyle. He was
in control of his time, slept as late as he wanted, and, even better, answered to
no one. If he could simply program the computer, fix up his car, and play D&D for
the rest of his life, he would be happy. All he needed to do was churn out more games.
It didn’t take long for him to find another buyer listed in the back of a computer
magazine: a small company in Shreveport, Louisiana, called Softdisk. After buying
his first submission—a Tennis game with impressive physics of the rise and fall of
himself, and then, if he earned grades that she deemed worthy, he would be reimbursed.
In the fall of 1988, the eighteen-year-old Carmack reluctantly enrolled at the University
of Kansas, where he signed up for an entire schedule of computer classes. It was a
miserable time. He couldn’t relate to the students, didn’t care about keg parties
and frat houses. Worse were the classes, based on memorizing information from textbooks.
There was no challenge, no creativity. The tests weren’t just dull, they were insulting.
“Why can’t you just give us a project and let us perform it?” Carmack scrawled on
the back of one of his exams. “I can perform anything you want me to!” After enduring
two semesters, he dropped out.
Much to his mother’s chagrin, Carmack took a part-time job at a pizza parlor and immersed
himself in his second game, Wraith . It was an exhausting process that required him constantly to insert and eject floppy
disks in order to save the data because his Apple II GS didn’t come with a hard drive.
He labored over a story included in the game’s “about” file:
WRAITH
“THE DEVIL’S DEMISE”
For a long while all was peaceful on the island of Arathia. Your duties as protector
of the temple of Metiria at Tarot were simple and uneventful. Recently things have
changed. An unknown influence has caused the once devout followers of the true god
Metiria to waver in their faith.
Corruption has spread through the island, with whispers of an undead being of great
might granting power to those who would serve. The lords of the realms fell to him
one by one, and monsters now roam the land. The temple at Tarot is the last outpost
of true faith, and you may be Arathia’s last hope for redemption.
Last night, as you prayed for strength and guidance, Metiria came to you in a vision,
bestowing upon you the quest to destroy the Wraith. She spoke solemnly, alerting you
to the dangers which lay ahead. The only way to reach the hell that the Wraith rules
from is by way of an interplanar gate somewhere in Castle Strafire, stronghold of
his most powerful earthly minions.
Although the castle is only a short distance away from Tarot, on an island to the
northeast, a terrible reef prevents it from being reached by conventional means. You
only know that monsters have come from the castle and turned up on the mainland. Remember,
although many have been seduced by the power of the Wraith, greed still rules their
hearts, and some may even aid your quest if paid enough gold. As the vision fades,
Metiria smiles and says, “Fear not, brave one, my blessing is upon you.”
You have begun preparing yourself for your quest, but even the townspeople seem unwilling
to help you. They insist on gold for equipment and spells. Gold you do not have. Gold
that the servants of the Wraith do have . . .
Carmack sent the game to Nite Owl, the publisher of Shadowforge, which snapped it
up. Though the graphics were not breakthrough—they had the chunky stick figures of
most games—the game was huge in scope compared with most titles, offerings hours more
of play. He earned twice as much this time, two thousand dollars, despite the fact
that the game, like Shadowforge, was not a big seller. Carmack used the cash to finance
his other hobby: modifying his car, a brown MGB.
Though he was barely getting by, Carmack relished the freelance lifestyle. He was
in control of his time, slept as late as he wanted, and, even better, answered to
no one. If he could simply program the computer, fix up his car, and play D&D for
the rest of his life, he would be happy. All he needed to do was churn out more games.
It didn’t take long for him to find another buyer listed in the back of a computer
magazine: a small company in Shreveport, Louisiana, called Softdisk. After buying
his first submission—a Tennis game with impressive physics of the rise and fall of
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