ADVENTURE 2600

I've already written extensively about Adventure 2600. I blogged the first article in March, The 2600 Adventure of Zelda. In this article I explored the connection between Adventure and The Legend of Zelda, and I argued that Zelda owes most of its mechanics and feel to Adventure. Soon after, I reviewed the fantastic remake, Adventure 2600 Reboot pioneered by SlashX. This time, however, I'd like to actually focus on Adventure 2600.

Part of Adventure's charm is its impressive creation date: 1979. The suits at Atari told Warren Robinett not to make the game because it couldn't be done. There simply wasn't enough room for a real Adventure in 4k of data. Robinett proved them wrong and still had enough free space on the cart to produce a nice big "fuck you": he included his name in a secret room. His action is both a rejection of Atari's tyrannical authorship attribution policy (no designers were credited for their work) and the creation of the first video game Easter egg. This act of defiance is worthy of a folk song. I'm already writing it in my head: it could involve some programming contest with the devil in which Robinett wins by producing Adventure and Satan loses with the "Basic Programming" cartridge also produced in 1979 (programs on this cart can only be 63 characters in length, have fun).



Although its background and conception are interesting and complex, the plot of Adventure remains simple and archetypical: a wizard stole the chalice (Holy Grail) and you have to retrieve it. There are bats and dragons. Well, that's the official story, and, like the simple graphics, the player is free to imagine what the escapades of their heroic square symbolize. What does the square do once the kingdom is saved? What kingdom is this? Where is the wizard? Why is the world so small? We'll never know the answers, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Some games you can be a valiant night on a righteous quest to save the land. Other times you are a sneaky rogue or dragon poacher. The possibilities only end with your deteriorating adult imagination!

It's difficult to determine if more gamers played Adventure around its release or in more recent times thanks to Atari collections, emulators, and TV plug-ins. My first experience with Adventure is worth noting: the year is 2003 and I am a college freshman. I had always heard of Adventure, and vaguely remembered seeing it played as a kid, but had never paid attention and didn't know anything about the game. My friend Ryan and I were exploring the city, reveling in our recent emancipation from parental constraints, and, of course, we ended up at Wal-Mart. Now, if you'll think back 6 years you might remember that A/V Atari TV adapter joysticks were all the rage. We see one that looks fun: it has Missile Command, Adventure, and other classics (and several not-so-classics). Back at the dorm: we try to play Adventure. We have no idea what the fuck to do. Ryan grabs the sword and accidentally kills a dragon. We reach the first hyper maze (blue) and explore for about 5 minutes, but we don't find our way out of its treacherous perplexity. We switched to Missile Command.

Fast Forward to about 10 months ago. I had just moved to a new city and was craving a new adventure. Naturally, Adventure came to mind and I traveled far and wide searching for the same cheap TV aracade stick I played Adventure on years earlier. After visiting every store in town (Toys 'R Us, Wal-Marts, K-Marts, etc.) I caved and downloaded Stella and the rom. Still confused, I managed to beat the game in about 20 minutes (on Quest 1, which is pretty pathetic). A huge wave of disappointed washed over me: the game was pathetically small. However, after quick internet research I discovered that the game has OTHER MODES!

So I began Quest 2 and was shocked by the bat! I'd never seen it before! Originally I felt crippled by the bat. I was always nervous that she would grab my items. The anxiety was surprisingly heavy in those early days before I had beaten the game hundreds of times. Commonly, the bat will steal your items at the exact moment before you use it, often replacing it with a dragon before you even notice that something happened. The bat seemed like an impossible foe, I couldn't fight him and my only hope, originally, was to catch her and let her hold the items that I needed to use. I later discovered the bat's secret: she can only swap items, never randomly drop them! This includes items laying on the ground or in the player's hand. She can, however, pick up any item when she is holding nothing. It was a tough battle, but, with the help of the continue feature I finally tackled Quest 2.

(In Adventure 2600 Reboot the Bat is currently glitchy: she can pick up more than one item, instantly teleport items, drop items anywhere she wants. This weekend she literally took my sword and replaced it with 4 fucking dragons. The goddamn game only has 3 dragons so I'm not sure what was going on. Cases like this are somewhat rare, but not as rare as you might think. Still, the challenge is welcome!)

Quest 3, however, composes the meat of the game. Certainly I'll revisit Quest 1 and 2, but most of the hundred-or-so hours I've played Adventure (and Adventure 2600 Reboot) have been dedicated to Quest 3, in which all the items are randomized. This typically produces an easier quest than Quest 2 because in Quest 2 the player is required to enter all 3 castles, including the "secret" room in the White Castle which is only accessible via the bridge. However, it can also generate extremely painful quests, or even impossible quests. Overall, because of the complexity and variable output, Quest 3 is the most satisfying mode Adventure has to offer. Unlike other adventure games, in Adventure 2600 your hero is lightning fast. The player can zip around the map at high-speed, fusing arcade twitch gameplay and exploration.

But playing games by oneself can grow dull, and, therefore, you should seek out fellow adventurers. This weekend, Sami and I Adventured together and I think she gained a new appreciation of the game. We didn't just play it once, of course, but, as typical Adventure 2600 session go, we played game after game after game. Together we probably saved that fucking cup around a dozen times (and I sneaked in even more games when I could). I still get a thrill from trying to run 15 screens with an item before the bat steals it.

Designers can learn a lot from Adventure. Although Adventure is small in size and relatively "simple," it constitutes a very complex and well-balanced game. The design is absolutely perfect, in a way that more complex projects can never hope to replicate. It is a perfectly balanced equation. I don't expect perfection in art, but I do expect an attempt at perfection. But above all else, like Ezra Pound says, make it NEW! Make it ambitious!

More important than appreciating Warren Robinett's achievement, however, is an admiration for the oldest hero in video games, that tiny square. One can learn a lot from the square: how to blend in to the environment, advantageously use magnetics, and, finally, understand that no matter how far and wide we adventure our reality remains small and confining. One's life may be confusing and difficult, yet one has the ability to heroically triumph under most conditions. Sometimes, like in Adventure, victory is impossible. Victory and loss, however, are both arbitrary terms created by other humans; it is through one's own deeds that one makes meaning from a randomly-scattered reality.

(article not yet proofread).