General Gaming Story 1
Astro Blaster
by Grundbegriff
Trips to visit Aunt Norey were always a mixed bag. On the one hand, she always tried to curry favor with the kids by giving them a lot of soda, candy, and pizza. (Sometimes, when we rode in the back of her VW bug, she would ask trivia questions about soul music and give dollar bills -- which she called "mean green" -- to whoever answered correctly. On the other hand, Aunt Norey would always drink most of a case of beer and then launch into some petty, pointless argument with whichever adult happened to be at hand.
Naturally, our strategy was to indulge Norey's generous nature when she was close to sober, but to steer clear when she came unhinged.
Sometimes, the adults would take their belligerence and fumes from room to room. Avoiding them meant that we couldn't settle in. On better nights, however, the bickering would gravitate toward some room in the periphery and we could gather around the TV to play with Norey's Atari system. Time at her place had always meant bribery in the form of treats, but eventually it also meant time on her Pong machine. When she snagged Space Invaders, however, our calculations changed. We began to contrive ways to redirect the fray away from the living room so that we could secure uninterrupted time and unperturbed space to engage in a bit of interplanetary combat.
Once, when the arguments were so heated that they moved beyond the perimeter and across the street, where disgruntled neighbors could join in the fun, I managed to get the machine all to myself. By some good providence, I was left alone to play and entered the zone. As low, plaintive strains of Al Green seeped through the room and vanished into the yard, I blasted and shifted and blasted better that I had ever managed to blast before. That night, I reached 100,000 and turned over the score on Space Invaders.
The memory of maxing out the Invadometer explains why I spent a good part of 1982 looking for a game that could provide the same excitement. Sure, I learned a pattern that guaranteed high scores on the Pac-Man machine at Valentino's Pizzeria (and more than once, I earned free pizza that I silently dedicated to Aunt Norey). Still, mindlessly executing a pattern (with minor variations for this fruit or that key) didn't provide that rush I had enjoyed on that night when my shouts of victory finally silenced the throbbing tones of impending space doom. I wanted something like Space Invaders, only better. Galaga and Galaxian were starting to crop up at restaurants and in bars, but they didn't quite capture the memory and the mood. I drowned my sorrows in Tempest.
Soon enough, though, a video arcade opened in the little strip mall where Filipino gangbangers from LA had blown some Vietnamese guy's brains across the parking lot.
Just inside the door, immediately to the left and visible through the plate glass storefront, stood Astro Blaster.
The first time I went in, an authoritative, encouraging voice urged me to "Play Astro Blaster!" And so, I did.
Through dozens and hundreds of quarters, I slid my ship from side to side while shooting straight ahead at a dizzying array of foes. Now, however, there were timers and upgrades. There was warp speed and there were asteroid fields. Perhaps most importantly, there was docking with the mother ship. Instead of throbbing bass and twangy sounds there was music and a host of sound effects. I had reached nerdvana.
I never did manage to post a high enough score on Astro Blaster to earn bragging rights. I never learned a pattern -- never wanted to -- and never developed the skill to avoid all the incoming sprites. But Astro Blaster was a good comrade and a worthy opponent, so there were no hard feelings. Space Invaders had taught me the thrill of victory that comes with persistence in pursuit of a goal. Astro Blaster, however, had taught me that even in defeat, there's pleasure in savoring the way forward, and that's also worth enjoying.