I find it hard to stop myself from the “maybe someday” ideas because the longer I live, the more of them turn out to be true. In 1997, I wrote a guest column for Game Developer Magazine about the growing rift between independent studios and large publishers, and predicted that the industry was “returning to the heady days of the mid-1980s, when a few people with a garage and a vision really could revolutionize the computer gaming industry.” It was at least partly aspirational—where I hoped the industry was going—and probably also an indirect justification for my recent exit from MicroProse, as I referred to the “suffocating” nature of bureaucracy and pointed out that the top five products of 1996 (Warcraft II, Myst, Duke Nukem 3D, Civilization II, and Command & Conquer) had all been developed by small outfits, with the exception of our own. But I never could have imagined anything like the current iTunes Store or Steam Workshop, where instead of twenty to thirty indie releases per year, we now see that many per day, or sometimes per hour. Back then, I dismissed “virtual reality headware” and “interactive movies” as buzzwords that distracted from the essence of good gameplay—but I also put the terms “CD-ROM” and “DVD” in the same category, so who knows? Maybe someday I’ll find myself converting Floyd of the Jungle over to the latest virtual reality gear. I find it unlikely, but so many of our wildest dreams have turned out to be laughably conservative that it’s hard to write off anything as impossible.
When it comes to the real world, though, I’m not much of a futurist—what really hooked me about the Star Trek universe was that it dealt with themes of humanity. Kirk’s crew had a lot of the same problems we did, which were the same problems Bach’s parishioners had, and so on. I’m always excited to find out what comes next, but I largely think of it in terms of what those innovations can do to improve what we already have. There’s no shortage of problems to solve here on Earth—and for what it’s worth, I do think that our industry has contributed to some of those solutions. Videogames have educated, inspired, broadened, and enlightened millions of people. We are translated more often, and into more languages, than the majority of books, and some of our best work has connected individuals across warring cultures and helped them find commonality. Like every art form, there are good and bad examples, but I think the former outweigh the latter. There are now entire museums dedicated to the good ones, like The Strong National Museum of Play in New York, and the National Videogame Museum in Texas, plus countless traveling and temporary exhibits at the Smithsonian and many others.
I’m often invited to participate in publicity events at museums like these, but I prefer to visit them as a spectator when I can, because I’m wary of being permanently associated with the past. I don’t mind speaking as a witness to that era, but I’m always careful to root my conversation in what we’re doing now, and where we’re going next. Once you start talking about your own legacy, you’re done—and I’m definitely not done. Most of my games I haven’t even played since the day they shipped, because I’ve already moved on to the next exciting thing. Dani Bunten Berry once said that she looked back on her old games as “alternately wonderful and terrible,” because she could never stop seeing things she would have done differently. My habit of avoiding them prevents that kind of regret to a certain degree, but even when I do come across flaws, I don’t usually dwell on them. I see them as inspiration for a new game that does things differently.
Of course certain titles from my past are inescapable, but that’s something that comes with the territory. I’m the one who reached out and forged this connection with my fans, after all, and I feel like I owe them the part of me that is Sid Meier!, as opposed to Sid Meier. Not only is the italicized-and-exclamatory version of me very different from the original model who sits at my desk every day, he’s actually a different person for every individual fan, frozen in time with whatever gaming experience stands out the most for them. To some people, I’m a wise old teacher who guided them through their teen years; to others, I’m the secret goofy friend who pretended to be a pirate with them when everyone else said they were too old for that sort of thing. Most people’s vision of me isn’t about me at all, but about the joy they felt, and I want to maintain that happy memory for them.
It’s not that Sid Meier! is a falsehood. He’s just static, made up entirely of flattering snapshots of Sid Meier on his very best days. He doesn’t have to worry about any of the less certain times in between, when regular, behind-the-scenes Sid Meier is stuck on an unsolvable problem, or in a bad mood, or snoring too loudly. And I’m okay with the fact that both guys have to exist, as well as the necessary separation between us. I’ve been on the other side of the interaction, too, watching an actor or a musician and feeling that connection as if I know them personally through their work. So I get it. The rock star wants to keep writing new music, but his fans want to hear the hits, and I think there’s a certain obligation for both to meet in the middle. I can play the hits, and talk about Civilization whenever I’m asked, but hopefully fans will consider trying out my new projects as well, and give our relationship the chance to grow more complex. Fan interaction is a part of my job now, and it’s not a burden by any means—but it’s not the reason I get up in the morning, either.
I feel the same way about awards. I once received a star on the “Walk of Game” in San Francisco, with press photos and speeches and everything, and six years later the whole thing was demolished and turned into a Target. I’m keenly aware of how impermanent popularity can be, and I look at awards only as an opportunity for me to quietly reflect and be grateful for the life I’ve been given. Making games is simply the best job in the world, and I would never look back and say, “Sure, life was awesome, but I don’t feel like everyone thanked me enough.”
I’m sure I could find a way to frame my life in terms of struggles, if I wanted to. I could talk about how my father came home with frostbite one winter, but continued walking to his night shift job for another several years until we could afford a car. I could point out that when my friends and I played sports in the park, we were sharing half a set of equipment between all of us, or that my family’s first television was a hand-me-down from a neighbor who had upgraded to a better model. I could tell you about literally shoveling coal in the basement of our house to keep the furnace running. I could limit my thinking to deals that fell through, and projects that failed. I could let family tragedies define me.
But I see the world in a positive light. I can’t say whether that’s a conscious choice I made along the way, or a natural part of my personality, but it’s what I do. When I was little, I built a skating rink in my backyard by piling up a ring of snow and filling it with water until the ice was layered thick. Shortly after strapping on my skates, I slipped and broke my leg. But I genuinely don’t remember the pain, or the trip to the hospital, or the inconvenience of the leg cast I had to wear for several months. All I remember about the experience—and this part is quite vivid—was how special it felt to be carried by older students from class to class because I couldn’t walk. They would put me on their shoulders, and parade me around the school like a king. I can distinctly remember thinking to myself, “I sure am lucky this happened to me.”
I have another memory of being on a school-wide field trip in kindergarten, and winning a set of horseshoes in a raffle. “Of all these hundreds of kids,” I marveled, “they drew my number.” I kept the game for years, not because I had a particular affinity for playing with it, but because it was a warm and fuzzy memory, to think back on how lucky I’d been. I also clearly remember being in art class a few weeks before the first Super Bowl, and correctly predicting the score of the game within a painting I’d made (Packers over Chiefs, 35–10). I’m almost certain that these little bits of serendipity haven’t happened to me more often than they do over the course of anyone’s life, but they seem to be the only type of memory my brain has any interest in keeping.
I think that in life, as in game design, you have to find the fun. There is joy out there
waiting to be discovered, but it might not be where you expected. You can’t decide what something’s going to be before you embark on it, and you shouldn’t stick with a bad idea just because you’re fond of it. Take action as quickly and repeatedly as possible, take advantage of what you already know, and take liberties with tradition. But most importantly, take the time to appreciate the possibilities, and make sure all of your decisions are interesting ones.
* Achievement Unlocked: Everybody but the Biker—Visit the YMCA with a soldier, a railroad worker, a police captain, Pocatello, and Blazing Saddles.
SPECIAL THANKS!
I HAVE BEEN SO INCREDIBLY fortunate in both my professional and personal life, and there is no question that I’ve had help along the way. First, immense thanks are owed to my wife, Susan, my son, Ryan, and my parents, August and Alberdina, for all their love and support. My profound gratitude also goes out to Bill Stealey, Bruce Shelley, Brian Reynolds, Jeff Briggs, Soren Johnson, Jon Shafer, Ed Beach, and everyone else who has ever worked at MicroProse and Firaxis—neither the companies nor the games would have been possible without you.
Likewise, this book itself would not have been possible without the dedicated talents of my agent, Myrsini Stephanides, and my editor, Tom Mayer. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to find gamers at work in the publishing industry, but it’s always nice to collaborate with people who share your passion. Thank you as well to the site managers and contributors at Archive.org, Mobygames.com, CGWmuseum.org, and GDCvault.com, who made historical research considerably easier than it would have otherwise been; and to Daniel Silevitch, David Mullich, Knut Egil Brenne, Jeff Johannigman, and Aaron Nwaiwu for their help in tracking down obscure details and materials. And, of course, many thanks to Jennifer Lee Noonan, who had the patience to listen to many hours of my disjointed ramblings and self-serving pronouncements, then combined them with a boatload of fascinating research to fashion a manuscript which I’m certain will stand the test of time.
Above all, I am grateful to the industry as a whole: the hardware and software designers who provide us with tools, the writers and journalists who keep people informed, the marketing and PR folks who organize events, and most especially, the players themselves, without whom our jobs wouldn’t even exist. Thank you.*
* Achievement Unlocked: Completionist!—Read the Special Thanks section.
SID MEIER’S COMPLETE GAMEOGRAPHY!
Tic Tac Toe (1975)
The Star Trek Game (1979)
Hostage Rescue (1980)
Bank Game I (1981)
Bank Game II: The Revenge (1981)
Faux Space Invaders (1981)
Faux Pac-Man (1981)
Formula 1 Racing (1982)
Hellcat Ace (1982)
Chopper Rescue (1982)
Floyd of the Jungle (1982)
Spitfire Ace (1982)
Wingman (1983)
Floyd of the Jungle II (1983)
NATO Commander (1983)
Solo Flight (1983)
Air Rescue I (1984)
F-15 Strike Eagle (1984)
Silent Service (1985)
Crusade in Europe (1985)
Decision in the Desert (1985)
Conflict in Vietnam (1986)
Gunship (1986)
Sid Meier’s Pirates! (1987)
Red Storm Rising (1988)
F-19 Stealth Fighter (1988)
F-15 Strike Eagle II (1989)
Sid Meier’s Railroad Tycoon (1990)
Sid Meier’s Covert Action (1990)
Sid Meier’s Civilization (1991)
Pirates! Gold (1993)
Sid Meier’s Railroad Tycoon Deluxe (1993)
Sid Meier’s C.P.U. Bach (1994)
Sid Meier’s Colonization (1994)
Sid Meier’s CivNet (1995)
Sid Meier’s Civilization II (1996)
Magic: The Gathering (1997)
Sid Meier’s Gettysburg! (1997)
Sid Meier’s Alpha Centauri (1999)
Sid Meier’s Antietam! (1999)
Sid Meier’s Civilization III (2001)
The Dinosaur Game (unreleased)
Sid Meier’s SimGolf (2002)
Sid Meier’s Pirates! Live the Life (2004)
Sid Meier’s Civilization IV (2005)
Sid Meier’s Railroads! (2006)
Sid Meier’s Civilization Revolution (2008)
Sid Meier’s Civilization IV: Colonization (2008)
Sid Meier’s Civilization V (2010)
Sid Meier’s CivWorld (2011)
Sid Meier’s Ace Patrol (2013)
Sid Meier’s Ace Patrol: Pacific Skies (2013)
Sid Meier’s Civilization Revolution 2 (2014)
Sid Meier’s Civilization: Beyond Earth (2014)
Sid Meier’s Starships (2015)
Sid Meier’s Civilization VI (2016)
INDEX!
Note: Italicized pages refer to photos or illustrations.
Page numbers listed correspond to the print edition of this book. You can use your device’s search function to locate particular terms in the text.
Ace of Aces, 253–54
Ace Patrol (2013), 253–55, 260
Ace Patrol: Pacific Skies (2013), 255
Acorn Software, 7
Activision, 191, 192
Advanced Civilization, 190–91
Age of Empires, 192–93
Age of Wonders, 193
Air and Space Museum, National, 91
Air Rescue I (1984), 38–39
Alpha Centauri (1999), 188
The American Heritage Picture History of the Civil War, 178–81
American Standard Code for Information Interchange (ASCII), 20
Amiga computers, 58
AmTote, 6
Andrade, Tonio, 230
Antic magazine, 14–15
Antietam! (1999), 183
The Art of Computer Game Design (Crawford), 61
ASCII (American Standard Code for Information Interchange), 20
Asteroids, 13
Astro Race, 237
Atari, 13, 22–23, 31–32, 57–58, 219, 237
Atari 400 console system, 22
Atari 800 computer, 22–23
Atari 2600 console system, 237
Avalon Hill, 110, 189, 190–91
Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel, 147–48
Bach, Johann Sebastian, 144–45, 146–47, 148–49
See also C.P.U. Bach
Bach, Wilhelm Friedemann, 148
Balance of Power, 61
Baldwin, Mark, 190
Bank Game I (1981), 25–26
Bank Game II: The Revenge (1981), 25–26
BASIC computer language, 23
Battle Royale, 165
Berry, Danielle Bunten, 95–97, 193, 270
Bertie the Brain computer, 18
Bever, Ed, 54–55
Bond, Larry, 82–83
BPjM committee, 64–65, 66
“Brain” computer virus, 45
Briggs, Jeff, 150–51, 173, 227, 260
Bright, Walter, 190
Bunten, Dan, 95–97, 189, 195
See also Berry, Danielle Bunten
C computer language, 263
Call of Duty: Black Ops, 66
Canadian National Exhibition, 18
Candy (Atari console system), 22
Card, Orson Scott, 45
Carmack, John, 249
Chips & Dips blog, 249
Chopper Rescue (1982), 11–12, 13
Civilization (1991), 119, 137
comedic self-awareness of, 259–60
copyright issues, 188–89, 191–92
development of, 116, 119–20, 121–25, 128, 130–31
gameplaying, 135–40, 195–96
Western perspective, 229
Civilization sequels, designing, 227–30
Civilization: Beyond Earth (2014), 268
Civilization: Call to Power, 191
Civilization II (1996), 159–65, 170
See also Moore, James
Civilization II: Test of Time (1996), 159–68, 170, 192
Civilization III (2001), 192
Civilization IV (2005), 233
Civilization IV: Colonization (2008), 240
Civilization Revolution (2008), 240–47
Civilization Revolution 2 (2014), 247
Civilization V (2010), 230, 240, 263
Civilization VI (2016), 247
Civil War, The American Heritage Picture History of the, 178–81
Civil War games. See Antietam!; Gettysburg!
CivNet (1995), 171
CivWorld (2011), 250–51
Clancy, Tom, 81–82, 86–87
Clear the Bridge! (O’Kane), 83–84
Colleen (Atari computer), 22–23
Colonization (1994), 155–58, 229
Command HQ, 96
Command Series, 55
Commodore (company), 57–58
Commodore 64, 29–30, 69–70
Commodore Amiga, 58
Computer Game Design (Crawford), The Art of, 61
Computer Game Developers Conference, 61–64
Computer Gaming World, 51, 61, 185, 190–91, 196
computer languages. See BASIC; C; FORTRAN; SidTran
Conflict in Vietnam (1986), 54–55
console systems, types of. See Atari 400; Atari 2600; Nintendo Entertainment System; 3DO
Consumer Electronics Show, 35–37, 86–87
Contraves (military contractor), 252–53
Covert Action (1990), 98–103, 120–21, 129, 239
C.P.U. Bach (1994), 149–53
Crawford, Chris, 61–62, 102, 119
Creative Computing magazine, 237
Cronkite, Walter, 267–68
Crusade in Europe (1985), 54
Datasoft, 237
Decision in the Desert (1985), 54
Sid Meier's Memoir! Page 27
