Arcade craze
In the history of video games, some odd anomalies pop up from time to time. One of these is the story of Neo Geo. Back in the ’80s and early ’90s, the highest quality of gaming was found in arcades. These magical places in malls and other venues held a special aura around them. That aura was a little different in Eastern Europe, though, as these spots were often packed with shady figures and more cigarette smoke than any episode of Mad Men. They were usually full of pickpockets and freeloaders, so, for obvious reasons, parents considered them unsafe. It was a no-no to visit them unsupervised. However, my friends and I just couldn’t resist sneaking into these “caves of sin” to witness the wonders of gaming often leaving without our pocket money.
What could be found in arcade booths and what home gaming systems could offer were worlds apart in quality. Some games had ports for home consoles, but they were nowhere near the originals. The difference was simply indisputable.
In 1990 a Japanese company, Shin Nihon Kikaku Corporation (aka SNK) had a wild idea and brought arcade gaming into the living rooms of a few lucky ones who could afford the NEO GEO system. SNK was already a household name in making games for arcade cabinets, and home video game systems were getting popular (again) at that time. But what they did was so far out of the norm and so overpowered compared to the Nintendo NES or the Sega Mega Drive that it was hard to believe such a console could exist. The specs of the Neo Geo blew everything else out of the water by a large margin in all aspects: graphics, audio, and interface. The only problem was its astronomical price. Of course, packing all that arcade computing power into a miniature version wasn’t cheap by any means. The cartridges were as big as VHS tapes, and if the machine itself was pricey, the games were even more lavish—even by today’s standards. The development of the Neo Geo can largely be attributed to the legendary Takashi Nishiyama, who created the original Street Fighter game. More on him in the next post.
I never owned a Neo Geo, let alone played one. The closest I got to it was a demo unit in a game shop called 576 Kbyte. Nobody was allowed to play on it, but the demo it showed on the TV screen was enough to glue me there for hours and fuel my fantasies of playing those games. The Neo Geo had a lot of awesome shoot-’em-up and sports game titles, but it truly became the epitome of the fighting genre with iconic series like Fatal Fury, The King of Fighters, Art of Fighting, and the infamous Samurai Shodown.
The late ’90s brought the decline of arcades, and as 3D graphics began to dominate home consoles, SNK tried to keep up with the competition but eventually failed. The company still exists to this day, living off the former glory of its original IPs.
The proof is in the software
With a dozen 3D-printed and assembled working prototypes, we started to put together a couple of simple demo games in Unreal Engine to showcase the capabilities of the controller. We created a hockey game, a gladiator fighting game, a drone flight simulator, and an underwater whale game. Kevin, our programmer at the time, had a hard time figuring out how to implement separate controls for limb mechanics, as there was no predecessor of any kind with this control scheme for gamepads. Funny enough, I still haven’t met him in person, even though we worked together for two years and don’t live far from each other. I recruited him via an Unreal forum by chance. Truth be told, it was a love-hate relationship. While it might have been fed by cluelessness, I always approached challenges with the imaginative mindset that the question wasn’t if something could be done, but how. On the other hand, he wasn’t the creative problem-solver type, so there was a lot of friction because of this. The demos were half-hearted attempts at best, and I wasn’t satisfied with any of them. While the visually polished look wasn’t a priority, the overall feel and execution were crucial.
The sword-fighting demo, for instance, was designed to feature a variety of moves based on the right thumbstick’s movements, while the left thumbstick controlled a shield. At one point, we experimented with a version where the sword was held with both of the avatar’s arms, which significantly increased the complexity. Essentially, we aimed to replicate a full range of motion for the sword, enabling cutting and piercing attacks with only limited inputs. While VR controllers with 6DOF tracking can achieve this seamlessly, I’m confident a similar effect can be accomplished with just three degrees of input axes, requiring far less physical movement.
Unfortunately, the desired outcome wasn’t achieved. They were full of bugs, and during tests and demonstrations, they performed poorly. I recognized that almost all users formed their verdicts based on their experiences rooted in the gaming experience rather than the performance of the actual peripheral. And the gamepad is only a tool to achieve the desired effect after all. I didn’t want to show these demos to a wider audience, as it would have significantly affected the controller’s perception by the public. Of course, I take full responsibility for the results, and I could have seen the signs that this wasn’t the right way to proceed. We parted ways on good terms. He’s a talented programmer without question, but looking back, it wasn’t clear to me how invested he was in the project, despite a decent salary and company shares.
Unfortunately, the results fell short of our goals. The demos were riddled with bugs and performed poorly during tests. I realized that most users judged the experience based on the gameplay itself rather than the potential of the peripheral. Couldn’t blame them, the gamepad is merely a tool to deliver the intended experience after all. I hesitated to share these demos with a broader audience, as doing so could have negatively impacted the public perception of the controller. I take full responsibility for the outcome, and in hindsight, I should have recognized the warning signs that this approach wasn’t working. We parted ways with Kevin amicably. He’s undoubtedly a skilled programmer, but looking back, I’m not sure how committed he was to the project, despite receiving a fair salary and company shares.
The project took its first blow, as there was no platform for the controller to show its potential, and I only had a couple of unfinished demos. I attempted to find other programmers to continue the work, but locating a proficient Unreal Engine developer with expertise in physics coding—and a willingness to work on a hardware project—was like searching for a needle in a haystack. I eventually found another software specialist who worked remotely and made some progress, but I soon realized that creating a polished, nearly “complete” game demo with a single coder was far more challenging than I had anticipated. To make matters worse, the COVID-19 pandemic struck, adding another layer of difficulty. It was a deeply challenging period for both me and the project.
The last demo we completed, which somewhat resembled a game with clear objectives and gameplay elements was developed by a third programmer. It was an underwater adventure/trash-collecting mini-game featuring an orca as the protagonist. However, it lacked the original vision of separate limb control, which was the cornerstone of this unique control interface and a feature I was eager to showcase.
Stay tuned…
