Steve Wetherill

The school had finally gotten its hands on a machine, but it was kept in a locked room, strictly out of bounds unless you were enrolled. To qualify, you had to be in the top maths class. I cleared that hurdle, but the school then required at least five students for the course to run. Out of a year of around 120 kids, including twenty-odd in the top maths set, only two signed up: Alan Dolby and I. Because of that administrative quota, the class was summarily canceled. The machine remained inside that room, sitting idle and untouched. While subjects like electrical or car mechanics were open to the whole year, this specific future was restricted to a small group that, for the most part, showed no interest in it. I never got any closer than the doorway, where I would occasionally see it from a distance, shrouded in mystery and verboten. I believe it may have been a Research Machines 380Z, but since I never laid hands on it, I could not say for sure. Read more in Chapter 2 of my ongoing, s...

I’ve been working in the video game industry for more than 40 years. I’ve also been trying, in one form or another, to write this story for almost 25 of them. Early attempts here focused on the output: the games, the companies, the platforms, the tools. Useful, perhaps, but incomplete. Over time, my attention shifted toward the personal side: the uncertainty, the improvisation, the missteps, and the slow accumulation of experience that actually defines a career. This project concentrates on the first decade of that journey. Although my career stretches far beyond it, those early years contain enough change, pressure, success, and failure to stand as a complete book-length narrative on their own. I’m publishing the material chapter by chapter and refining it as I go. All posts will remain free to read. Paid subscriptions are enabled for readers who want to support the work and its eventual transition into print. The first chapter is live; you can read it here . If you’re a reader, ...