I mean, I guess it makes sense that it was assholes who created Doom & the deathmatch culture.
Vile multiplayer smack talk, near-sociopathic lack of empathy, nerd frat boy culture, programmer arrogance, and an absolute sense of self-obsession, this is not just a boys' club, but a horror show.
And yet, when it all starts falling apart as these central people start drifting away from each other when their different priorities turn their cherished time spent together, headless of tomorrow, into a thing of the past, I felt that tinge of sadness too. Not that I like these people, or that I wished anything better for them, but that sense of time passing by with our past dying the death of memories is all too familiar. Of course the new thing can be better, but you know - even if I never again want to spend my days & nights playing the same multiplayer game over and over with some random online friends and acquaintances, I still miss the times I did. Not because they were better, or because I want them back, but because I liked them and it is sad to not be able to know them again.
But my goodness can these guys be annoying. It's not really helped by the author or the audiobook narrator - Kushner tries to make them sound like the rockstars he sees them as, and Wil Wheaton dons the most wannabe-masculine voice he can, managing to only make me dislike these guys even more (though granted, my personal & incomprehensible dislike of Wheaton doth playeth a role). Look for no MeToo in here either - they're not interested (though to be fair, this came out in 2003 - writing about strippers cosplaying Lara Croft at industry expos like it's a cool thing was apparently itself a cool thing to do; the narration is, as always, befitting). The only mention of a trans person was handled with the kind of sensitivity that I'm glad the person was in the book for just one paragraph.
Wheaton’s voice acting ability is also stretched beyond the breaking point, with the people with negative views of the company faring the worst, all sharing a similarly dislikeable whiny voice, as if to underline how wrong they must be to doubt these guys (except of course when the guys are doing the doubting themselves).
But at least they are fascinating. Assholes, yes, but assholes in different ways, be it John Carmack’s lack of empathy due to his inability to connect with other humans or John Romero’s lack of empathy due to his need to always be the biggest, the best, and having fun. It's easy to grasp their desperation as wonky kids, and easy too their restless ambitions amongst their earliest coworkers who are just trying to get through the working day - you can understand why they'd want to leave these people behind, even if their carelessness in the way they do it might make one shudder.
Kushner doesn't only concentrate on them either, looking into the lives of everybody who worked on these early games (as you could do a generational hit with top graphics with just 4 guys, it wasn't that difficult (though having a genius on your team helped) - oh it was a different time). Some of these people even have empathy and a sense of responsibility for others besides their own desires!
But I can’t be too angry at them either. Humans are ultimately multi-faceted and conflicting - John Romero is a loud bastard who keeps ditching wives with his kids to raise, but I checked his wiki and appreciated his support for Ukraine; John Carmack doesn't seem to care much about other human beings (I wonder how he is as a dad?), but I admire both his support for open-source and his desire to avoid growing id Software too big for its game-making goals; Adrian Carmack (no relation to John), the moody gory artist seems to have never really felt comfortable at id and yet stayed for longer than I thought (and seems to be running a hotel now!); Tom Hall, one of the four founders, Romero’s best friend and a fun guy to have around, the first one fired, but his story with Romero far from done; and so on.
But we don't have to like them anyway. Liking Doom or Quake or Wolfenstein or Keen would certainly help create a connection (for me it was all about Wolfenstein (almost all of the FPS ones, for different reasons - and if I was to share my stories and nostalgia, buddy, we’d never leave), a bit of Doom (the newest mainly, though I've played the old (but I didn’t even know the first had multiplayer, which defined FPS multiplayers - yikes)), and a bit of Quake (but not that much), and no awareness of Keen whatsoever), but that connection isn't required because the book isn't interested in just games but these people who created them, and Kushner does his best to bring them alive, including inserting dialogues, little descriptions of almost ephemeral things (e.g. John Carmack typing away at his computer as his cat lazily tangled its legs over the monitor), and internal thoughts that they might have had. Did any of these things really happen? Does it matter? Well, kinda! But it's also a blast to read, and it gives the story such a tangible feeling.
But oh boy did I grow bored of Wheaton and needed the occasional break from all this nerd-tosterone. These guys can be difficult to like, and while I appreciate avoiding a hagiography and instead drilling deep into why exactly they are like this, and how it helped them and how it didn't, I also didn't want to spend too much time in their company.
And yet, as I close out my time with this book (and Jason Schreier's existing three), I feel a certain sadness because even if I was sometimes annoyed reading it, I found it fascinating and touching all the same, and I yearn for more. Perhaps I should look for biographies and other such tales from other areas, but I wonder whether the subject was part of what made these special. Romero has his own version of the story left to read, but I do doubt his credentials. Kushner has more of these, but sadly hasn't apparently been able to repeat the success and I'm not sure I'm interested in a poorer version of this. I also wanted to know more about the further developments at id Software and the people that I’ve so much time with now, but it’s an old book and Wikipedia is a poor alternative with its considerably shallower interest in the details of people’s lives¹ - we may be a terminally online but history books still matter.
Which is not to claim, dear reader, that oh woe is me, but to compliment this book that, after all, I ended up liking quite a bit. The depth, the pace, the fascinating people, and the attention to detail that invites the reader to feel like they're right there in the various offices of ill repute. They sound like awful places, but in a way, also kinda great. I guess it's true what they say and you just had to be there.
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¹ As I look at how difficult it can be to find any information on people with some fame to their name, I can’t help but think of how one day we here on this site will also just disappear and none will know where we are or what happened to us besides the sad presumption that we’re probably dead. Oh me and my everyday memento mori.