Standardization Uniformization killed the video(game) star
I’ve been fortunate enough to witness the progress of computer/video games over almost four decades. Without being sentimental, I must say the early days were mostly about innovation. Innovation is such a strange concept though. Changing the status quo of certain aspects of technology or market takes more than just a great idea. It’s especially true in the video game business.
Over decades of reigning, the big names of this market have solidified their presence. Since the birth of video gaming in the ’70s amidst the race to win the hearts of players, some have fallen off the track, while others thrived. Nintendo is one of the oldest of them all, and with a true gaming pedigree (they were originally made playing cards) ,they have done it with innovation and never shied away from experimenting, even if it meant temporary failure.
But then, every once in a while, new players come along to step foot on the field, and it’s only a matter of the size of their purse whether these challengers will stay for the long run.
This is what happened with Sony and Microsoft. During the ’90s, when gaming started to grow into such a huge market as it is today, they wanted to take a part of the fun, and the profit as well. Sony first came blazing in 1994. This happened right after Nintendo made its biggest mistake by not partnering with them, but that’s another story. Seven years later, Microsoft arrived and kicked Sega’s agonizing body off the podium.
Their success was almost inevitable: One being a leader of consumer electronics, and the other being the king of software, both with practically endless budgets, from the beginning they carved a hefty market slice by simply replicating the recipe of their predecessors and started pouring the money.
Let’s dive into the history a bit:
From the moment Nintendo showed the way with the blocky NES/Famicom controller in 1983, they had become the leader of innovation. They put the first shoulder buttons on controllers in 1990 and the now-staple 4 action buttons with the release of the legendary SNES system. Later, they showed another generational step in the evolution of controls with the first analog thumb joystick in 1996 for the N64.
Sony, on the other hand, often copied what had been done, but with a twist: their first controller for the PS1 system (1994) was nothing but an SNES controller with 2 extra buttons and an extended grip. When Nintendo released the infamous N64 controller (1996) with the analog stick, they just raised the bar by sticking an extra stick on their Dual Analog controller (1997). Even though they mostly never had the initial idea, the engineers and designers at Sony were quite good at making something different out of the original.
Microsoft didn’t even bother coming up with a new controller, and they just placed the thumbsticks in an asymmetric position on the Xbox gamepads and called it a day. But this mundane act has become something way more meaningful than anyone could have anticipated.
After Sony and Microsoft, the two largest gaming companies, established this controller layout, it has become an industry standard, and hundreds of games have been developed with this control scheme. This hasn’t changed a bit for over 3 console generations. Ever since, these giant companies have been dictating the path and future of console gaming, and its innovations.
Standardization is a tool that helps us make our everyday lives easier. Think of all the different standards: the USB-C port for battery chargers and data transfer (finally, even Apple had to succumb), shipping container sizes, screw and bolt standards or the electrical sockets and plugs. (though they differ from one region to another). Even the metric system is somewhat of a worldwide standard (except in the U.S., Liberia, and Myanmar). These standards are meticulously examined, tested, and selected by trusted committees or other regulatory bodies and enforced to achieve the desired result. Uniformization, on the other hand, is usually driven internally by companies to achieve cross-platform compatibility, minimize R&D costs, enhance market share… No one told or enforced them to do so, it’s all driven by the single purpose of profit maximization. They are prioritizing business goals over public welfare, or in other words, the gamers’ best interests. For example, a gamer using an Xbox controller on PC might be a convenience, but Microsoft’s motive is to reach the user on as many platforms as possible and sell subscriptions, not to altruistically improve gaming.
Why is it a problem? Because it hinders progress completely. Sony’s haptic trigger (2020) on the DualSense feels like a gimmick, paling in comparison to all the exciting novelties that came before it 23 years ago. Of course, most of the naysayers would probably say: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. The thing is, this cliché notion only does one thing: it cements the state of the art that was developed almost a quarter of a century ago. From the companies’ point of view, it’s understandable: they don’t jeopardize business when they only operate with what has already been proven. They grew too big to gamble on any disruptive new technology, but it appears most users don’t even criticize them for it. If the same thing sells over and over, then why even bother? But there’s a time when everything becomes dull eventually, and a glimpse at the current state of gaming says it all without the need for any further comment.
I say, fortune favors those who risk it, and there’s always a better way to do things.
Final Frontier
From time to time, it’s always wise to take a step back and look at the big picture. After a disheartening Kickstarter campaign setback, it was a good reason to do so. I’ve been pondering the whys and what we could have done better. Didn’t we have proper marketing or the right product? What if this idea is just a big pile of steamin’ crap? It’s natural that during these moments, self-doubt kicks in. Despite all of this, deep in my heart, I’ve known that the core idea is still valid but needs reevaluation. So I went back to the drawing board and started directly from scratch.
Gyula, the engineer of the project, has had a full-time job since 2023, so he hasn’t had the time to help move the project forward. I found myself in a tricky situation, as without funds and an engineer, the development had come to a complete halt. But I was determined and if there was no one to help, heck, I was going to do it myself.
I wanted a fresh start, so I did just that. The Gemini 1.0 simply had too many features crammed inside of it, and deviated too much from the standard form factor of game controllers. It didn’t have enough digital inputs (buttons) either, so I wanted to address these issues firsthand. I started shaping a new housing from plasticine, but this time, I ditched the wrist mechanism. Instead of using mechanical rotational axes, they will be replaced with a digital gyroscope. For the buttons, I wanted to have the same number of inputs as a traditional gamepad has: 2×4 on the face (d-pad plus 4 action buttons), 2 buttons on the thumbsticks, 2 front buttons, and 3 menu buttons (power, option, select), so 15 in total.
I’d been itching to add something to the controller for years, a feature I even added to the Kickstarter campaign as a stretch goal. Gyula wasn’t too keen on the idea. “It’s too complicated,” he always said. “More parts, more problems —it would be a nightmare to develop.” I wasn’t convinced. It’s something gaming has used for decades, mostly in steering wheels and joysticks, but never in a mainstream handheld gamepad. Then I found an open-source GitHub project: a Korean student had modded an Xbox controller, rigging a thumbstick with DC motors to add functionality. It wasn’t flawless, but it functioned—proof that it was possible. That’s when I knew the force feedback was the way forward. It’s not just about immersion; it’s about revolutionizing how players interact with games. With Z-axis thumbsticks, it could be a true game changer.
Suddenly, Gyula’s skepticism didn’t matter anymore. I could see it clearly: six tiny motors, one for each axis, nested inside a gamepad. It would need space, no question, more than the sleek, minimalist designs of today. This thing would be thick, unapologetically bulky, a brute of a device that traded elegance for power. And I was all in.
To make it happen, I rethought the design entirely. The housing had to be spacious yet comfortable, a balance of raw function and ergonomic necessity. As I sculpted the plasticine, I aimed for something bold—crude, almost blocky, with basic geometric shapes flowing into one another. I only had a rough estimate of how much space is really needed. This wasn’t about refinement; it was about possibility.
As the design evolved, it got me thinking about the name. Gemini fitted perfectly for a gamepad with two identical halves joined in the middle, like Siamese twins. But a fresh start called for a fresh name and the release of Google’s AI named Gemini was the final push to move on.
Browsing famous brand designs, I settled on using a logotype again. A logotype relies on custom lettering for identity (think Coca-Cola or Google), unlike a logomark, which uses a figural or abstract image (Nike swoosh, Apple)—though they can be combined. I’ve always loved the 1920s-30s Art Deco style, with its bold, geometric shapes. For the name, I wanted something starting with Z. I chose this because I believe this next generation of controllers might be the last of its kind, with mind-control interfaces poised to overtake physical devices in the future. Gaming has begun with A for Atari, and ending it with Z completes the arc. Somehow, I landed on Zento, a Japanese word meaning future prospects, outlook, and the journey ahead. Plus, it has a nice ring to it, too.
Stay tuned…
