Setting: An apartment in suburban Detroit, mid-1991. A rather dorky-looking 13-year old sits in a recliner and flips through his dads PC game magazine*. His eyes fall on a picture showing a map of a continent not of this Earth. Intrigued, he reads the article accompanying the picture.
Dork: Hey Dad! We should totally get this rad game.
Dad: What game?
Dork: This game.
(Shows father the article.) Its called Civilization. Looks kinda like SimCity, but with a whole continent. And armies and planes and stuff. And you can, like, build the Pyramids and stuff.
Dad: Hmm
I dunno. Weve been buying an awful lot of games lately.
Dork: But this one was made by that guy who made Railroad Tycoon. And
Red Storm Rising. And Gunship and Strike Eagle. And, uh, I guess pretty much every game we have except Kings Quest V.
Dad: Okay, fine, maybe well look for it at the computer show tomorrow.
Narrator: Predictably, Dork was unsuccessful in his attempt to locate a brand-new game among the Shareware titles that weekend. He would broach the subject again that Sunday evening, while mounting a desperate defense against the Soviet juggernaut invading Kwangtung.
Dork: Yknow, Dad, that Civilization game has all the same stuff from Axis & Allies, I bet. I know theres tanks and battleships and probably factories too.
Dad: Youre just trying to distract me. Shoulda moved your AA gun here from Japan.
Dork: I read in that article that they even made a map to look just like Earth- I bet we could set up a game where the Russians actually
do invade Eastern China.
Dad: (rolls dice) Eight hits from my tanks and fighters.
Dork: grumbles
Narrator: Dork would try, and try, and try again to reason with his father. For six months Dork petitioned to have this new Civilization game added to the pantheon. Not a day went by that the game was not mentioned. During this time, dubbed The Great Pestering, Dorks fathers remaining brown hair turned gray, and it is believed that adoption, military prep school, and third-world sweatshops were all considered as a means of ending the questioning. Until one day
Dad: (entering apartment) Hey [Dorks first name], I got ya something.
Dork: You went to the store, right? Did you get taco pizza?
Dad: Well, yeah, but thats not what I was talking about. Hold on, I gotta do something on the computer real quick.
Dork: (absentmindedly)
kay.
(Continues playing Centurion on the Genesis.)
A short while later
Dad: Okay, cmere, check this out.
(Dork approaches the computer and happens to notice a semi-buried box that wasnt there before. On it appears to be a pharaoh buried under a modern city. A faint hope rises in Dorks consciousness but he dare not speak its name.)
Dad: Got this thing, wanted to see if you might like it.
(On the monitor is a beautiful rendering of outer space, panning towards a planet being formed in 16 glorious colors. State-of-the-art speakers bleep out an unknown tune. Unfamiliar names scroll by, as Dorks father made sure that Dork missed the first twenty seconds of the intro, so as not to spoil the surprise. Dork gradually realizes the truth
)
Dork: OHMYGODHOLYCRAPDADYOUREFREAKINAWESOMEWHOOOOAAAA
Dad:
breathe.
Narrator: After settling down, and after a rather unfulfilling five minutes of confusion, the Dad/Dork team realized that the blinking Cheshire grin was, in fact, a settler. A settler that they could move towards the blackness and uncover new lands. And, after several centuries of random exploring in which they discovered oceans, mountain ranges, and a small tribe that gave them money for some reason, they accidently discovered that they could create a city. The Dorkan civilization was founded.
The next year of Dorks life was spent in the following cycle: Wake up. Help Dad play Civ. Wait impatiently for Dad to go to work. Load saved game from last night. Play Civ until the very last second before sprinting to the bus stop. Slog through school thinking about the next fifty turns. Race home. Play Civ until Dad comes home from work. Grudgingly give up the computer, usually with helpful reminders about who pays the bills. Help Dad some more. Try to stay awake longer than Dad in order to get in a few turns before falling asleep. Dream about crushing the Zulus in nuclear fire. Rinse. Repeat.
and I guess Ive been a Fanatic since then.
Notes:
*A magazine, in this case, is, uh, a collection of gaming website printouts. See Archaic forms of information.
i.e., a screenshot.
Sorry, but if you arent from the 90s, you dont get to know what rad means.
In related news, holy
crap did
this video bring back memories.
And, adding to the discussion-
Lennier, that's a pic of
The Eternal War. That dude started that game ten (real) years ago, and has been fighting the same war for 1700 (game) years.
Also, the High Council should have been mandatory for every version of Civ after II. That foreign-affairs girl...