Three years ago, if I had asked everyone what a video game was, many people might not have known—after all, most had never seen one before. But now, three years later, I think everyone can answer that question:
A video game is one of those big machines placed at the entrances of bars, game halls, and billiard rooms, playing strange music and attracting curious onlookers.
Speaking of video games, we must talk about Nolan Bushnell. The founder of Atari used his engineering genius to bring video games—once confined to the laboratories of major universities—into the public sphere, adding a splash of color to our daily lives. But at the same time, I believe most people have also heard about Magnavox's lawsuit against Atari. Although Nolan Bushnell changed the world, he also resorted to questionable methods, blatantly copying Magnavox's game.
We thought that the out-of-court settlement two months ago would spell trouble for Atari, since they wouldn't be able to launch their own original games for the next year. Some even speculated that the settlement would mark the beginning of Atari's decline. But to everyone's surprise, less than two weeks after the lawsuit ended, Atari released a new title—not as a developer, but as an agent—called Snake Game.
When we first heard the name, our entire Los Angeles Times editorial team was baffled. It was so abstract that we couldn't guess what kind of game it might be.
So, after its release, curiosity got the better of us and we went to try it out ourselves.
To be honest, watching others play made the game seem boring. It wasn't a competitive game; there was no two-player mode. The player simply controlled a snake—a snake that moved on its own. All you could do was guide it with the joystick, helping it eat the items on the screen and watching it grow longer and bigger.
At first glance, this lack of player-versus-player interaction or intense competition seemed meaningless.
But once we actually played it, we realized the game was uniquely captivating!
Yes, the snake moves on its own—but it dies if it touches the boundary or its own body. Yes, it grows longer when it eats—but as it grows, it also moves faster, making it harder to control.
This was a revelation for us! After repeated plays, we even began to feel as if we weren't playing a game at all, but guiding a living creature.
The little snake seemed intelligent: once it discovered that food made it grow, it couldn't wait to rush out and find more.
The little snake seemed to have a soul: it knew instinctively that no matter how hungry it was, it must never eat itself.
To be honest, we don't know where the inspiration for Snake Game came from. But we do know this—it might be the best video game of the year! In fact, it could be the best video game since the birth of electronic entertainment.
Why? Because it perfectly captures one of the deepest aspects of human nature: greed.
The design is instinctively satisfying, and the steadily increasing difficulty keeps players hooked, eager to try "just one more time" to win.
Perhaps it is this charm that explains why, in just one month since its launch, Snake Game has taken over the entire West Coast. If Pong once dominated the entrances of karaoke halls, and billiard rooms, then Snake Game has completely conquered them.
We don't know exactly how many copies of Snake Game Atari has sold so far—but we do know this: it may not be long before it breaks every sales record and becomes the best-selling video game in the United States!
Why? Because it's just that much fun.
It was precisely because all of us editors at the Los Angeles Times were so captivated by this little snake that we reached out to Atari, hoping to interview Nolan Bushnell himself. Unfortunately, we couldn't get through to him—he was far too busy selling.
However, Atari's staff did answer some of our questions. They told us that Snake Game was created by two inventors who live near Atari's headquarters. One of them, Evelyn Johnson, is a student at Stanford's School of Engineering. The other, Ethan Jones, is her brother—a former employee of Magnavox.
When we heard 'Stanford' and 'Magnavox,' we weren't surprised," one editor remarked. "Those are both places where miracles happen."
We regret that we couldn't reach either inventor before publishing this article. But if we ever get the chance, we'll bring our readers an exclusive interview with the minds behind the game that has swept across the West Coast. We want to know exactly how Snake Game came to be.
......
When Ethan read this article, his hands trembled. This was the Los Angeles Times—the largest daily newspaper in the western United States, with an influence second only to The New York Times and The Washington Post.
They had written a special feature on his game?
"Oh, s—! This is incredible!" he thought, a wide grin spreading across his face.
The article's lavish praise thrilled him most: What does it mean for a snake to be "intelligent"? What does it mean for a snake to have a "soul"?
He didn't know. Not really. But those overinterpretations—
Ethan coughed twice, trying to keep a straight face. With a mock-serious tone, he said, "Well… the editor of the Los Angeles Times sure can write. Very well, indeed."
"Oh—fxxk!!! Ethan! If you want to laugh, then just laugh out loud!" Steve Jobs shoved him in the shoulder and barked, "I know you're dying to! Your face is so tight right now it's ridiculous! Don't believe me? Check the rearview mirror—you look constipated!"
That did it. Ethan burst out. "Hahahahaha—"
His laughter filled the empty gas station. He was just a layman—someone who couldn't resist basking in praise.
"Oh~ I'm going to keep this newspaper forever," he said gleefully. "They actually recognized a great game when they saw one!"
After his laughter subsided, he neatly folded the paper and slid it into his pocket with an air of smug satisfaction. Steve Jobs rolled his eyes. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have bought the damn paper," he muttered.
Then, without warning, Steve flung the driver's door open. "Get out."
Ethan blinked. "What are you doing? Oh! My dear Steve! Are you jealous of me? Jealous that I'm famous? So now you're dumping me here to walk home?"
That almost made Steve's eyes narrowed. "Fxxk! Ethan! Are you mentally ill? I'm not jealous—I'm afraid for my life! You're so hyped right now, what if your foot welds itself to the accelerator while we're on the road? We're close to Los Gatos, and I don't want to die!"
"Oh~ is that all? Thanks~" Ethan grinned, hopping out without complaint.
To him, letting someone else drive was a blessing. The past month had been exhausting, and he was more than happy to hand over the wheel.
Once he was settled in the passenger seat, he slapped the window and yelled, "Let's go! Take me home!"
they headed back toward Atari. According to Ethan's plan, the first order of business after returning was to tally Snake Game's sales.
Nolan Bushnell, however, was even more eager than Ethan. He had already crunched the numbers.
Within six weeks of release:
Arcade machines sold: 1,121 units → $1,345,200 in revenue.Game circuit boards sold: 2,715 units → $1,086,000 in revenue.
Total: $2,431,200.
By today's standards—where a popular game can rake in hundreds of millions—that's small change. But in 1975, nearly two and a half million dollars was enough to make anyone's head spin.
Ethan and Evelyn's share came to:
15% of arcade machine sales → $201,78018% of circuit board sales → $195,480
After splitting profits 50–50 with Evelyn, and adding $7 per motherboard for the 732 boards he and Jobs had swapped out ($5,124 in labor fees), Ethan's total personal earnings came to $203,754—in just over a month.
Two hundred thousand dollars. In 1975. It was done.
Ethan's grin nearly reached his ears. "If we push hard and get Snake Game onto the East Coast, we could hit half a million this year!"
The thought made Nolan Bushnell chuckle. He took a drag of his cigarette, coughed twice, and said,
"Ethan, I get it—you're excited. But the gold rush is over. From here on, sales won't be like before."