into the wee hours. Occasionally, they’d take a break to play Super Mario
on the Nintendo or maybe a round of Dungeons and Dragons. Carmack had been building
a large D&D campaign for the guys, and on Saturday nights they’d gather around a table
and play into the early morning hours. With Carmack as Dungeon Master, the game took
on depth and complexity. It was quickly becoming the longest and deepest D&D game
he’d ever created. And there were no signs of it letting up.
Other times, they’d cruise the lake on the boat. Jay quickly became the designated
driver; his impeccable focus gave him the ability to drive not only fast but steady.
A couple times they let Romero drive, but he was having too much fun, steering the
boat precipitously off course. Jay also fell comfortably into the role of manager
or, in a sense, frat house president. While the guys worked, he would grill up ribs
on the barbecue or restock the sodas. They were under the gun and needed all the help
they could get.
They didn’t need any help getting motivated, however. Carmack, in particular, seemed
almost inhumanly immune to distraction. One time, Jay tested Carmack’s resolve by
popping a porno video into the VCR and cranking it to full volume. Romero and the
others immediately heard the “oohs” and “aahs,” and turned around cracking up. Carmack,
though, stayed glued to his monitor. Only after a minute or so did he acknowledge
the increasingly active groans. His sole response was “Mmm.” Then he returned to the
work at hand.
Back at Softdisk, Al Vekovius was beginning to grow suspicious of his star gamers. Jay was continually
requesting parts for the computers. And the other guys were behaving more curtly and
elusively. His first suspicion came shortly after they were working on their new game
for Softdisk, a ninja warrior title called Shadow Knights. Al had never seen a side
scrolling like this for the PC. “Wow,” he told Carmack, “you should patent this technology.”
Carmack turned red. “If you ever ask me to patent anything,” he snapped, “I’ll quit.”
Al assumed Carmack was trying to protect his own financial interests, but in reality
he had struck what was growing into an increasingly raw nerve for the young, idealistic
programmer. It was one of the few things that could truly make him angry. It was ingrained
in his bones since his first reading of the Hacker Ethic.
All of science and technology and culture and learning and academics is built upon
using the work that others have done before, Carmack thought. But to take a patenting
approach and say it’s like, well, this idea is my idea, you cannot extend this idea
in any way, because I own this idea—it just seems so fundamentally wrong. Patents
were jeopardizing the very thing that was central to his life: writing code to solve
problems. If the world became a place in which he couldn’t solve a problem without
infringing on someone’s patents, he would be very unhappy living there.
Carmack was becoming more blunt and insulting about other topics as well, most notably
the rest of the Softdisk staff. “You’ve got a lot of terrible programmers here,” he
said. “They just stink.” It was as if Carmack simply didn’t care how he alienated
himself from the rest of the employees.
Al began dropping by the Gamer’s Edge office more often, only to discover more strange
behavior. He once walked in to find Carmack, Romero, and Tom huddled around Romero’s
computers with their backs to the door. When Al made his presence known, they quickly
dispersed. He stepped over and asked them what was going on. “Nothing but dirty jokes,
Al,” Romero replied, gingerly. When Al looked at the screen, it was suspiciously blank.
Later he commented to Carmack that Romero was acting strangely, which struck Al as
odd since Romero was always so nice. Carmack considered this momentarily, then, as
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