I didn't have a computer growing up. The only one I had some access to was my maternal grandfather's IBM PS/2 system, on which I was only able to play with a golf game, interactive educational software, Minesweeper, Solitaire, and Paint. It was important that I didn't do anything else with it, and there was no attempt to teach me more about how it worked. It was basically a limited-use toy, when it wasn't being used for grandpa's business.
It wasn't until I received a grant for my first year of college that I was able to afford to go out and buy a PC of my own. The machine was supposed to be for school work only, but I knew that its primary use would be gaming. I even knew the games I was going to buy for it, and when I picked up the HP PC bundle from Walmart (which I understand now is not the way or the place to buy a decent computer), I also purchased Star Wars Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast and a Doom collection which included Doom, Doom II, and the extra levels.
After a couple of years of fooling around with my greatly treasured PC, exploring how it handled and played games, and using it to write papers for English and History, I eventually decided to switch my academic focus over to computers. I had always wanted to know more about them, but I had no idea where to begin. It actually wasn't until I watched a making-of documentary which came with the collector's edition of Halo 2 that I realized that programming was a thing and a major part of making these beautiful machines do everything they do. So, along with a series of technical classes which spanned telecommunications to office application usage I also took an introduction to programming course.
Every Saturday morning I would bus down to Grand Rapids Community College and spend three hours, 8am to 12pm, to take an involving and exciting Introduction to Programming class taught by the affable and inspiring Donald Hruby, a former Bell Labs employee, IBM remote project manager, and adjunct professor. While there we'd move between writing pseudo-code and drawing flowcharts to understand logic structures and mapping logic to getting into building programs with QBASIC. It was a terrific environment, a sterilely lit computer lab with a sizable group of people, all there because the prospect of programming computers was too fascinating not to pursue. We worked in teams, analyzed each other's code, and we learned how to avoid common pitfalls and the sin of producing a mess of spaghetti code. All the time Mr. Hruby would walk around encouraging us and telling us, sincerely or not, that if he could he would hire us all into IBM because we had what it took to do the work.
I took what I learned in that amazing course and brought it home. I dabbled in writing small QBASIC programs, and I read and re-read the class texts on logic design. That was the only year I didn't sell my textbooks back to the college bookstore because all of them seemed so invaluable, especially for what I wanted to do.
Unfortunately, my depression and self-doubt swooped in and began chipping away at my confidence with programming. I fell off the rocket ship that was code and watched it sail away without me into the stars. I felt lonely and insufficient here on the ground, seemingly incapable or undeserving of taking the stellar trip which programming appeared to offer. My mind told me that this was how it had to be for me. For years after I avoided the idea of taking up the keyboard with the intent to program, and sadly, this did more damage to my general prospects and confidence than that initial doubt.
I hadn't entirely abandoned everything from that class and that period in my life, though. While there, on breaks between coding segments, a peer in the classroom would talk with me about video games. He started bringing me CD-Rs full of emulators, classic console ROMs, and various other types of gaming software. On those discs I discovered several games I had missed from my childhood as an Atari and Nintendo kid, but they also introduced me to an era of computer games I hadn't known. Through those discs I discovered text adventures.
Zork was legendary, and it didn't take long to find out about it through research. I hit the college computer lab internet hard after trying out one of the random text adventures included on those discs, the title of which sadly escapes me. I learned about Infocom and their contributions to the world of games. I learned of Colossal Cave Adventure, Steve Meretzky, and a universe hidden behind text parsers and entrancing cover art for old game boxes. I didn't know how to acquire a copy of these games, though, as I didn't have home internet access. I had a computer but no internet, because the monthly fees for maintaining even dial-up service were too much for me at that time.
Years later, I moved in with my girlfriend, who would eventually become my wife, and I discovered how the internet was not only amazing, it was absolutely necessary. She had constant access to it and treated it as a utility, which to this day I strongly feel it should be. It was through that regular home access that I was able to download games and dive further into the world of computers. I started programming again, because readily available resources restored some of my confidence and eliminated some doubts. I found and experimented with games and software I had only heard of or seen glimpses of through my early research. Then I found games I had never heard of. A new world opened up to me.
Eventually, I found my way to a copy of Zork. I had to learn how to make it work on my miraculously still-running HP PC, which I kept going for about ten years after the original purchase. The game deceptively appeared to be so simple, as many text adventures do at the beginning, but as I put in time I realized how many layers it had and noticed how deep the experience was taking me. Of course, I became Grue food on several occasions, but each time I failed I started over. The value of graph paper, which I had only used for D&D up to that point, became apparent after a few attempts at running through the game. It became an experience which tapped into so many parts of my brain and my creativity. Zork, though a mere text adventure, was, for me, an awakening.
So, here we are in the present, the cursed year of 2020. Zork is still available, and it is still as entertaining and as entrancing as ever. It can be played on PCs, tablets, and phones. It's available on archive sites, ROM sites, and through GOG. Last year internet archivist Jason Scott uploaded the entire collection of Infocom source code to the Internet Archive. There's no excuse for people not to play it at this point.
I will always return to Zork and the Infocom library. Those games are priceless, and they have inspired me in so many ways. One of the most important was that they helped me trick my stupid brain into getting back into programming. It's a tough uphill path for me to climb, and there are times when I scare myself off of it, but every time I think of Zork, Grue, the phrase and documentary "Get Lamp," and those Saturday morning programming classes which started me on the road to Zork, I find inspiration to once again go back to the keyboard and keep trying.
Maybe some day I'll be able to finally begin a career programming. Maybe I'll eventually be able to make my own Zork. Maybe all of it. Maybe some day.
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