MASTERS OF DOOM(ISBN=9780812972153) 下载 pdf 百度网盘 epub 免费 2025 电子版 mobi 在线

Masters of Doom is the amazing true story of

the Lennon and McCartney of video games: John Carmack and John

Romero. Together, they ruled big business. They transformed popular

culture. And they provoked a national controversy. More than

anything, they lived a unique and rollicking American Dream,

escaping the broken homes of their youth to produce the most

notoriously successful game franchises in history—Doom and

Quake— until the games they made tore them apart. This is a

story of friendship and betrayal, commerce and artistry—a powerful

and compassionate account of what it's like to be young, driven,

and wildly creative.

Introduction: The Two Johns

ONE: The Rock Star

TWO: The Rocket Scientist

T H R E E: Dangerous Dave in Copyright Infringement

FOUR: Pizza Money

FIVE: More Fun Than Real Life

six: Green and Pissed

SEVEN: Spear of Destiny

EIGHT: Summon the Demons

NINE: The Coolest Game

TEN: The Doom Generation

ELEVEN: Quakes

TWELVE: Judgment Day

T H I RT E E N : Deathmatch

FOURTEEN: Silicon Alamo

FIFTEEN: Straight out of Doom

SIXTEEN: Persistent Worlds

Epilogue

Afterword

Author's Note

Acknowledgments

Bibliography

Notes

Index

DAVID KUSHNER has written for numerous

publications, including Rolling Stone, The New York Times,

Wired, New York, Worth, Electronic Gaming Monthly, The Village

Voice, Details, Mondo 2000, and Salon. He is the

digital-music columnist for Rolling Stone online, and a

contributing editor for Spin and IEEE Spectrum. He has also worked

as a senior producer and writer for the music website SonicNet. He

received a B.A. from the University of Maryland, College Park, and

a master’s in creative writing from City University of New York. He

can be reached at www.davidkushner.com.

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Chapter 1

The Rock Star

Eleven-year-old John Romero jumped onto his dirt

bike, heading for trouble again. A scrawny kid with thick glasses,

he pedaled past the modest homes of Rocklin, California, to the

Roundtable Pizza Parlor. He knew he wasn?t supposed to be going

there this summer afternoon in 1979, but he couldn?t help himself.

That was where the games were.

Specifically, what was there was Asteroids, or, as Romero put it,

?the coolest game planet Earth has ever seen!? There was nothing

else like the feeling he got tapping the control buttons as the

rocks hurled toward his triangular ship and the Jaws-style theme

music blipped in suspense, dum dum dum dum dum dum; Romero mimicked

these video game sounds the way other kids did celebrities. Fun

like this was worth risking everything: the crush of the meteors,

the theft of the paper route money, the wrath of his stepfather.

Because no matter what Romero suffered, he could always escape back

into the games.

At the moment, what he expected to suffer was a legendary whipping.

His stepfather, John Schuneman?a former drill sergeant?had

commanded Romero to steer clear of arcades. Arcades bred games.

Games bred delinquents. Delinquency bred failure in school and in

life. As his stepfather was fond of reminding him, his mother had

enough problems trying to provide for Romero and his younger

brother, Ralph, since her first husband left the family five years

earlier. His stepfather was under stress of his own with a

top-secret government job retrieving black boxes of classified

information from downed U.S. spy planes across the world. ?Hey,

little man,? he had said just a few days before, ?consider yourself

warned.?

Romero did heed the warning?sort of. He usually played games at

Timothy?s, a little pizza joint in town; this time he and his

friends headed into a less traveled spot, the Roundtable. He still

had his initials, AJR for his full name, Alfonso John Romero, next

to the high score here, just like he did on all the Asteroids

machines in town. He didn?t have only the number-one score, he

owned the entire top ten. ?Watch this,? Romero told his friends, as

he slipped in the quarter and started to play.

The action didn?t last long. As he was about to complete a round,

he felt a heavy palm grip his shoulder. ?What the fuck, dude?? he

said, assuming one of his friends was trying to spoil his game.

Then his face smashed into the machines.

Romero?s stepfather dragged him past his friends to his pickup

truck, throwing the dirt bike in the back. Romero had done a poor

job of hiding his bike, and his stepfather had seen it while

driving home from work. ?You really screwed up this time, little

man,? his stepfather said. He led Romero into the house, where

Romero?s mother and his visiting grandmother stood in the kitchen.

?Johnny was at the arcade again,? his stepfather said. ?You know

what that?s like? That?s like telling your mother ?Fuck you.?

?

He beat Romero until the boy had a fat lip and a black eye. Romero

was grounded for two weeks. The next day he snuck back to the

arcade.

Romero was born resilient, his mother, Ginny, said, a

four-and-one-half-pound baby delivered on October 28, 1967, six

weeks premature. His parents, married only a few months before, had

been living long in hard times. Ginny, good-humored and easygoing,

met Alfonso Antonio Romero when they were teenagers in Tucson,

Arizona. Alfonso, a first-generation Mexican American, was a

maintenance man at an air force base, spending his days fixing air

conditioners and heating systems. After Alfonso and Ginny got

married, they headed in a 1948 Chrysler with three hundred dollars

to Colorado, hoping their interracial relationship would thrive in

more tolerant surroundings.

Though the situation improved there, the couple returned to Tucson

after Romero was born so his dad could take a job in the copper

mines. The work was hard, the effect sour. Alfonso would frequently

come home drunk if he came home at all. There was soon a second

child, Ralph. John Romero savored the good times: the barbecues,

the horsing around. Once his dad stumbled in at 10:00 p.m. and woke

him. ?Come on,? he slurred, ?we?re going camping.? They drove into

the hills of saguaro cacti to sleep under the stars. One afternoon

his father left to pick up groceries. Romero wouldn?t see him again

for two years.

Within that time his mother remarried. John Schuneman, fourteen

years her senior, tried to befriend him. One afternoon he found the

six-year-old boy sketching a Lamborghini sports car at the kitchen

table. The drawing was so good that his stepfather assumed it had

been traced. As a test, he put a Hot Wheels toy car on the table

and watched as Romero drew. This sketch too was perfect. Schuneman

asked Johnny what he wanted to be when he grew up. The boy said, ?A

rich bachelor.?

For a while, this relationship flourished. Recognizing Romero?s

love of arcade games, his stepfather would drive him to local

competitions?all of which Romero won. Romero was so good at Pac-Man

that he could maneuver the round yellow character through a maze of

fruit and dots with his eyes shut. But soon his stepfather noticed

that Romero?s hobby was taking a more obsessive turn.

It started one summer day in 1979, when Romero?s brother, Ralph,

and a friend came rushing through the front door. They had just

biked up to Sierra College, they told him, and made a discovery.

?There are games up there!? they said. ?Games that you don?t have

to pay for!? Games that some sympathetic students let them play.

Games on these strange big computers.

Romero grabbed his bike and raced with them to the college?s

computer lab. There was no problem for them to hang out at the lab.

This was not uncommon at the time. The computer underground did not

discriminate by age; a geek was a geek was a geek. And since the

students often held the keys to the labs, there weren?t professors

to tell the kids to scram. Romero had never seen anything like what

he found inside. Cold air gushed from the air-conditioning vents as

students milled around computer terminals. Everyone was playing a

game that consisted only of words on the terminal screen: ?You are

standing at the end of a road before a small brick building. Around

you is a forest. A small stream flows out of the building towards a

gully. In the distance there is a gleaming white tower.?

This was Colossal Cave Adventure, the hottest thing going. Romero

knew why: it was like a computer-game version of Dungeons and

Dragons. D&D, as it was commonly known, was a pen-and-paper

role-playing game that cast players in a Lord of the Rings?like

adventure of imagination. Many adults lazily dismissed it as

geekish escapism. But to understand a boy like Romero, an avid

D&D player, was to understand the game.

Created in 1972 by Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson, two friends in

their early twenties, Dungeons and Dragons was an underground

phenomenon, particularly on college campuses, thanks to word of

mouth and controversy. It achieved urban legend status when a

student named James Dallas Egbert III disappeared in the steam

tunnels underneath Michigan State University while reportedly

reenacting the game; a Tom Hanks movie called Mazes and Monsters

was loosely based on the event. D&D would grow into an

international cottage industry, accounting for $25 million in

annual sales from novels, games, T-shirts, and rule books.

The appeal was primal. ?In Dungeons and Dragons,? Gygax said, ?the

average person gets a call to glory and becomes a hero and

undergoes change. In the real world, children, especially, have no

power; they must answer to everyone, they don?t direct their own

lives, but in this game, they become super powerful and affect

everything.? In D&D, there was no winning in the traditional

sense. It was more akin to interactive fiction. The participants

consisted of at least two or three players and a Dungeon Master,

the person who would invent and direct the adventures. All they

needed was the D&D rule book, some special polyhedral dice, and

a pencil and paper. To begin, players chose and developed

characters they would become in the game, from dwarves to elves,

gnomes to humans.

Gathered around a table, they would listen as the Dungeon Master

cracked open the D&D rule book?which contained descriptions of

monsters, magic, and characters?and fabricated a scene: down by a

river, perhaps, a castle shrouded in mist, the distant growl of a

beast. Which way shall you go? If the players chose to pursue the

screams, the Dungeon Master would select just what ogre or chimera

they would face. His roll of the die determined how they fared; no

matter how wild the imaginings, a random burst of data ruled one?s

fate. It was not surprising that computer programmers liked the

game or that one of the first games they created, Colossal Cave

Adventure, was inspired by D&D.

The object of Colossal Cave was to fight battles while trying to

retrieve treasures within a magical cave. By typing in a direction,

say ?north? or ?south,? or a command, ?hit? or ?attack,? Romero

could explore what felt like a novel in which he was the

protagonist. As he chose his actions, he?d go deeper into the woods

until the walls of the lab seemed to become trees, the

air-conditioning flow a river. It was another world. Imbued with

his imagination, it was real.

Even more impressively, it was an alternate reality that he could

create. Since the seventies, the electronic gaming industry had

been dominated by arcade machines like Asteroids and home consoles

like the Atari 2600. Writing software for these platforms required

expensive development systems and corporate backing. But computer

games were different. They were accessible. They came with their

own tools, their own portals?a way inside. And the people who had

the keys were not authoritarian monsters, they were dudes. Romero

was young, but he was a dude in the making, he figured. The Wizard

of this Oz could be him.

Every Saturday at 7:30 a.m., Romero would bike to the college,

where the students?charmed by his gumption?showed him how to

program on refrigerator-size Hewlett-Packard mainframe computers.

Developed in the fifties, these were the early giants of the

computer industry, monolithic machines that were programmed by

inserting series of hole-punched cards that fed the code. IBM,

which produced both the computers and the punch card machines,

dominated the market, with sales reaching over $7 billion in the

1960s. By the seventies, mainframes and their smaller cousins, the

minicomputers, had infiltrated corporations, government offices,

and universities. But they were not yet in homes.

For this reason, budding computer enthusiasts like Romero trolled

university computer labs, where they could have hands-on access to

the machines. Late at night, after the professors went home,

students gathered to explore, play, and hack. The computer felt

like a revolutionary tool: a means of self-empowerment and fantasy

fulfillment. Programmers skipped classes, dates, baths. And as soon

as they had the knowledge, they made games.

The first one came in 1958 from the most unlikely of places: a U.S.

government nuclear research lab. The head of the Brookhaven Nation

Laboratory?s instrumentation division, Willy Higinbotham, was

planning a public relations tour of the facility for some concerned

local farmers, and needed something to win them over. So, with the

help of his colleagues, he programmed a rudimentary tennis

simulation using a computer and a small, round oscilloscope screen.

The game, which he called ?Tennis for 2,? consisted merely of a

white dot ball hopping back and forth over a small white line. It

thrilled the crowds. Then it was dismantled and put away.

Three years later, in 1961, Steve ?Slug? Russell and a group of

other students at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology created

Spacewar, on the first minicomputer, the PDP-1. In this game, two

players shot up each other?s rocket ships while drifting around a

black hole. Ten years later, a programmer and amateur cave explorer

in Boston, Will Crowther, created text-based spelunking simulation.

When a hacker at Stanford named Don Woods saw the game, he

contacted Crowther to see if it was okay for him to modify the game

to include more fantasy elements. The result was Colossal Cave

Adventure. This gave rise to the text-adventure craze, as students

and hackers in computer labs across the country began playing and

modifying games of their own?often based on Dungeons and Dragons or

Star Trek.

Romero was growing up in the eighties as a fourth-generation game

hacker: the first having been the students who worked on the

minicomputers in the fifties and sixties at MIT; the second, the

ones who picked up the ball in Silicon Valley and at Stanford

University in the seventies; the third being the dawning game

companies of the early eighties. To belong, Romero just had to

learn the language of the priests, the game developers: a

programming language called HP-BASIC. He was a swift and persistent

student, cornering anyone who could answer his increasingly complex

questions.

His parents were less than impressed by his new passion. At issue

were Romero?s grades, which had plummeted from A?s and B?s to C?s

and D?s. He was bright but too easily distracted, they thought, too

consumed by games and computers. Despite this being the golden age

of video games?with arcade games bringing in $5 billion a year and

even home systems earning $1 billion?his stepfather did not believe

game development to be a proper vocation. ?You?ll never make any

money making games,? he often said. ?You need to make something

people really need, like business applications.?

As the fights with his stepfather escalated, so did Romero?s

imagination. He began exorcising the backwash of emotional and

physical violence through his illustrations. For years he had been

raised on comics?the B-movie horror of E.C. Comics, the

scatological satire of MAD, the heroic adventures of Spider-Man and

the Fantastic Four. By age eleven, he churned out his own. In one,

a dog named Chewy was invited to play ball with his owner. With a

strong throw, the owner hurled the ball into Chewy?s eye, causing

the dog?s head to split open and spill out green brains. ?The End,?

Romero scrawled at the bottom, adding the epitaph ?Poor Ol?

Chewy.?

From the Hardcover edition.

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每个人都有无法实现的梦想。或许是那梦想需要太多时间和金钱，譬如开跑车驰骋，驾飞机翱翔；或许是那梦想太过于离谱，譬如与异形进行星球大战，与吸血鬼拼个刺刀见红；或许是那梦想会违反法律，譬如痛殴老板，夜半尾行。但不管能否实现，它们总盘旋在你脑海里，每一天，让你浮想连翩。这就是为什么会有一个上亿美元的产业来帮助人们实现各种光怪陆离的白日梦；这就是为什么，会有电子游戏。

当然，电子游戏并不能让人们真正进入那些梦境，它只能让玩家体验到游戏制作者模拟出来的梦境。这模拟是建立在各种数字设备之上的，譬如计算机、电视、掌机。虽然玩家只是通过眼睛、耳朵、手指来感受模拟的效果，但当他在太空中摧毁外星军事基地，或是在高速公路上左冲右撞时，他会觉得他的确就在那里，他仿佛冲破了皮囊的桎梏，抛开了凡尘的戒律，忘却了世俗的烦恼。我们本只是打不开天穿不过地的囚徒，是游戏，让我们进入了一个个美丽新世界；我们本只是时间老人掌心里渐渐消融的雪花，是游戏，让我们经历了一次次轮回与新生；我们不能没有游戏。

姓名：约翰·卡马克

职务：程序员

项目：Quake2

最近更新：1998年2月4日03:06:55 （美国中部标准时间）

嗯，我太长时间没有更新计划文件了。

封闭研究进行得很顺利，在一个礼拜里，我除了买可乐外就没有出过旅店的门，这简直太安逸了，因为办公室里的杂事已经让我有点无法忍受。以后，在项目不紧时，我很可能会经常做这样的封闭式研究，每季度一次听起来比较合适。

现在要具体谈论三次元引擎还为时过早，Quake在架构完全成型之前走了不少弯路（光树、门洞、等等），所以我知道，现在研究的东西很可能会有变动，我不想说任何会被某些人当做是“承诺”的话。

我只能说，工作的进展很激动人心。

许多游戏开发者从事这一行是为了制作出最终的游戏，中间漫长的开发阶段只是不得不经历的过程，我尊重他们的工作态度，但我从事游戏开发的动机略有不同。

当然，我也为游戏的完成而自豪，但这途中所克服的各种困难却更加让我铭记。我已记不清我们那些老游戏发布时的情景，但我清楚地记得那些技术上的突破，早至《基恩》时的CRTC回绕，以实现现平滑的卷轴效果（准确地说，早至理解苹果2汇编语言中并联数组里的结构体……），知识是需要积累的，学习是需要循序渐进的。

我启蒙阶段用的是学校里的苹果2型机，但当时的条件局限了我的学习速度和深度。今天的状况已经好多了，只要有一台便宜的二手PC机、一张Linux光盘和一个因特网的账号，你就拥有了足够的工具和资源，你就可以达到任何你期望的编程境界。

《软盘》的头六个月对我而言如同活在梦里，平生第一次，我身边有了比我更博识的程序员（罗梅洛和罗瑟），我手边有了大量的书籍和资料，而且我可以全身心投入到编程中，那真是一段好时光。

接下来的两年，直到Doom和几个家用机版本移植完成，我在稳步提高着我的知识面和技术水平，其中包括：更深入的图像编程、网络、Unix、编译原理、跨平台、...

在信息时代，客观障碍已不复存在，所有的障碍都是主观上的。如果你想动手开发什么全新的技术，你不需要几百万美元的资金，你只需要在冰箱里摆满比萨和可乐，再有一台便宜的计算机，和为之献身的决心。我们在地板上睡过，我们从河水中趟过。

每个人都有无法实现的梦想。或许是那梦想需要太多时间和金钱，譬如开跑车驰骋，驾飞机翱翔;或许是那梦想太过于离谱，例如与异形进行星球大战，与吸血鬼拼个刺刀见红;或许是那梦想会违反法律，警如血洗乐园，夜半尾行。但不管能否实现，它们总盘旋在你脑海里，每一天，让你浮想联翩。这就是为什么会有一个上亿美元的产业来帮助人们实现各种光怪陆离的白日梦;这就是为什么会有电子游戏。

He showed up at Norwood's with his duffel bag, threw it in the trunk, then hit the road. Just outside Dallas, he saw an open stretch of highway. Slowly, he pushed the pedal down to the floor. As it lowered, he felt a force build until the pedal hit the metal and the car accelerated almost twice as fast, reaching nearly 140 miles per hour. Life was good. He was living his dream: working for himself, programming all night, dressing how he pleased. All those long, hard years without a computer, without a hacker community, were fading behind him. Contrary to what the other guys might have thought, he did have feelings. And at this moment, with the cows and corn blurring beside him, he felt unbelievably happy. He drove the rest of the way with a huge grin on his face.

所有科学技术，以及文化、知识、理论，都是在前人的基础上发展起来的。去注册一项专利，就等于宣布说：“这个想法是我的想法，你不能使用或扩展它，因为，我‘拥有’这个想法。”在卡马克这样的黒客眼里，这听起来简直荒谬绝伦。专利制度威胁到了他生命的最重要的事情：编写代码去解决问题。如果这个世界上充斥着各种专利，以至于他连解决一个简单的问题都要侵犯到某项专利的话，那么这将不是一个他所乐意生活在其中的世界。

编辑推荐

To my taste, the greatest American myth of cosmogenesis features

the maladjusted, antisocial, genius teenage boy who, in the insular

laboratory of his own bedroom, invents the universe from scratch.

Masters of Doom is a particularly inspired rendition. Dave

Kushner chronicles the saga of video game virtuosi Carmack and

Romero with terrific brio. This is a page-turning, mythopoeic

cyber-soap opera about two glamorous geek geniuses - and it should

be read while scarfing down pepperoni pizza and swilling Diet Coke,

with Queens of the Stone Age cranked up all the way. -Mark

Leyner, author of I Smell Esther Williams

"Masters of Doom is an excellent archetypal tale of hard

work and genius being corrupted by fame too young and fortune too

fast. I rooted for these guys, was inspired by them, then was

disturbed by them, and was fascinated from beginning to end."

-Po Bronson, author of The Nudist on the Late

Shift

"Like Hackers, David Kushner's Masters of Doom paints

a fascinating portrait of visionary coders transforming a

previously marginal hobby into a kind of 21st-century art form --

and enraging an entire generation of parents along the way. Kushner

tells the story with intelligence and a great sense of pacing.

Masters of Doom is as riveting as the games themselves."

-Steven Johnson, author of Emergence

"Masters of Doom tells the compelling story of the

decade-long showdown between gaming's own real-life dynamic duo,

played high above the corridors of Doom in the meta-game of

industry and innovation. With the narrative passion of a true

aficionado, Kushner reminds us that the Internet was not created to

manage stock portfolios but to serve as the ultimate networked

entertainment platform. It's all just a game." -Douglas

Rushkoff, author of Coercion, Ecstasy Club, and

Nothing Sacred

"Are you brainy? Gifted? Deeply alienated? Ever wanted to be a

multimillionaire who transformed a major industry? Then Masters

of Doom is the book for you!"-Bruce Sterling,

author of Tomorrow Now

From the Hardcover edition. -- Review

书籍介绍

Masters of Doom is the amazing true story of the Lennon and McCartney of video games: John Carmack and John Romero. Together, they ruled big business. They transformed popular culture. And they provoked a national controversy. More than anything, they lived a unique and rollicking American Dream, escaping the broken homes of their youth to produce the most notoriously successful game franchises in history— Doom and Quake — until the games they made tore them apart. This is a story of friendship and betrayal, commerce and artistry—a powerful and compassionate account of what it's like to be young, driven, and wildly creative.