After reviewing the patent Magnavox cited and identifying its crux, Barbara requested a copy from the Patent Office staff, then asked Ethan and Evelyn to follow her home.
Since it was mealtime, Ethan made a special stop at McDonald's and packed three meals. Unfortunately, neither he nor Evelyn had any appetite, and Barbara…
After returning home, she spent the entire time on the phone.
Although Ethan didn't deliberately eavesdrop, Barbara wasn't trying to hide anything either. From fragments of her conversations, Ethan gathered that she was consulting friends at the Federal Patent Office, exchanging views with colleagues, and even discussing matters with her Prof. .
Yet none of these efforts gave him any comfort. The cold, rapid pace of her words made one fact increasingly clear—they might really have violated the law.
At that thought, Ethan hunched forward, clutching his head, his face twisted with turmoil.
He simply couldn't understand how the patent for the world's first commercial home game console was not for a home game console, but for a "video gaming and training apparatus."
What the hell is this? If the patent had been limited to home consoles, it would merely be an industry monopoly. But if it extended to video games as a whole, then who in the world could escape it?
Computer games? Only because monitors weren't "standard TVs"?
A sudden realization struck him. In his memory, in his previous life, after Atari collapsed, the U.S. experienced a long vacuum in game hardware. Small developers, big manufacturers—even giants like Video and EA—had turned to computer games.
Could it be… because of this patent? Did Magnavox manage to fish endlessly from the same pond?
Damn it! Can a single patent strangle an entire industry?Fxxk! How can such a twisted patent even exist?
Oh! Fxxk! Were all those patent office reviewers eating shit?
The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Ethan sprang to his feet, throwing out his hands, gasping with anger.
"How did this patent ever get approved? Didn't they find it suspicious during review? Why does a patent that describes its own technology end up protecting not the technology itself, but the visual channel through which the technology is displayed? Don't these people at the patent office think that's insane?"
As he said this, Ethan's lips trembled with fury.
Here's your passage proofread and refined for clarity, smoother flow, and emotional impact while keeping the tone consistent:
How infuriating! No way! Who on earth came up with such an outrageous patent?
"Oh, Ethan—don't be so angry. Although this patent seems excessive, from another perspective, it's actually somewhat beneficial to us, isn't it?"
Looking at her flushed brother, Evelyn raised her right hand and gently patted his back, coaxing him softly like a feather.
"The stricter the patent protection law, the better it is for us. After all, we're doing technology… If we really want to build a business, we can't just use someone else's technology to run our company, right?"
Her words helped Ethan calm down a little. After taking a few deep breaths, he turned his worried gaze on Evelyn.
"But now… if this patent holds up, then we really are infringing—"
His bright eyes were filled with unease. Although Evelyn knew Ethan was probably right and that the situation might already be decided, she still forced a smile.
"Oh, Ethan, don't be so pessimistic. Things haven't reached that point yet, right? What if Barbara—"
But before she could finish, Barbara's voice cut in. "Evelyn, Ethan is right. We need to prepare for the worst."
At those words, both siblings immediately looked at Barbara.
She had just hung up the phone and sank heavily into the sofa. Her body dropped as if trying to shed exhaustion, while the way she leaned back with her eyes closed revealed the helplessness pressing on her heart.
When she opened her eyes again, the smile she wore was tinged with apology.
"First of all, I'm sorry. When I answered your question about Snake Game's copyright protection, I only looked into the copyright issues with Magnavox's games.
I didn't examine the patent rights tied to their console. That's why I suggested you apply for a provisional patent for Snake Game—to ride the wave of the soon-to-be-revised copyright law. At the time, it seemed like a solid approach. But now… perhaps it would have been better to apply directly for copyright instead."
Her words made Ethan and Evelyn's hearts sink. They understood what she meant. If they hadn't applied for a provisional patent—if they hadn't handed the display of Snake Game's arcade content on a TV screen over to the patent office—perhaps they wouldn't be in such trouble now.
But That's not right! Ethan frowned, shook his head, and said firmly:
"Prof. Barbara, you don't need to blame yourself. Even if we had registered Snake Game under copyright directly instead of filing a provisional patent, Magnavox could still sue us.
Because no matter how we protected it, Snake Game still requires a standard TV to display its content. As long as we use a standard TV to sell it, it would count as infringement."
He paused, his tone cooling. "At most, it would've been harder for them to prove. It wouldn't have been as straightforward as it is now."
Although Ethan was furious, his anger hadn't clouded his reasoning. His words left Barbara stunned for a moment. Then she gave a helpless smile and nodded.
"Yes. Ethan, you're right. As long as your game display involves generating, displaying, manipulating, or using symbols or geometric figures on a TV screen… you're infringing."
That confirmation made Ethan let out a long, heavy sigh.
Evelyn, on the other hand, looked puzzled. "But why, Prof. Barbara? Isn't this kind of patent too overbearing?
Anyone who understands technology should know that the symbols or geometric figures on standard TVs are generated in the same way! That's fixed by the TV itself!
And even if the reviewers didn't understand the tech, they must have watched TV programs before, right? The signal feedback from all stations is the same—otherwise, how could a standard TV receive and play them?
When reviewing this patent, didn't the people at the patent office think there was a problem?"
Evelyn's sharp questioning only made the helpless smile on Barbara's face widen.
She stared at the girl for a long moment, then turned her gaze to Ethan. Seeing the endless curiosity in both their eyes, she finally shook her head.
"Because the people at the patent office are all idiots."
Her bluntness made both siblings freeze. "I should've told you before," Barbara continued, "that Magnavox clashed with the Copyright Office when they tried to register their game copyrights, right?
But because the Copyright Office has an expedited service, they brushed it aside and didn't follow through. That's why, later, when Nolan Bushnell copied Pong, Magnavox had no grounds to sue.
So, you've already seen the stupidity of the Copyright Office. Now, with this patent, you're seeing the stupidity of the Patent Office."
Barbara sighed, rubbing her temples. "I just called some friends at the Federal Patent Office. They told me that when Ralph Baer originally designed his 'Brown Box'—the prototype of the Magnavox Odyssey—and filed for a patent, the examiners had no idea how to define it.
At first, after reading his application, they believed the technology of displaying images on a television couldn't be patented—because TVs already had that function, and TV programs relied on it.
This made Ralph furious. So what did he do? He dragged in one of their TVs, hooked up his Brown Box, and showed them his invention directly.
And the entire office was blown away. They had never seen anything like it. It wasn't just watching TV anymore—it was interactive. You could control it. That was enough for them to pass the patent.
But then came the harder question: how do you define it? Ralph argued that the circuit diagrams themselves weren't worth protecting—too easy for any engineer to copy. So the examiners asked: what's unique about this?
And since his Brown Box could only display games through a TV screen, they wrote into the patent: 'to generate, display, manipulate, and use symbols or geometric figures on a television screen.'
To the examiners, those four criteria—generate, display, manipulate, use—sounded specific enough. But no one realized that the phrase 'on a television screen' would become the deadliest trap.
Because at that time, there were no video games on the market. No arcades. No home consoles. Nothing."
Barbara slowly closed her eyes. "When a prefix like that—one that strangles the entire industry—is built into a patent, even a mage like me can't bypass it.
And as for challenging it—suing to invalidate the patent? Forget it.
Because this mess was created by the Patent Office itself. If a court overturns their decision, what happens next? Every company that feels the examiners were careless will flood the courts with challenges.
Sue again? Appeal again? Endless chaos. So no judge wants to touch it."
Then the U.S. courts might as well stop doing anything else—they'd just be watching companies sue each other over patents all day long!
After all, America follows a common law system, and citing precedents is practically the same as giving judges legislative power.
And even if this ridiculous registration wasn't entirely the Patent Office's fault, but rather the result of Ralph Baer's overreaching application…
In reality, the courts still wouldn't declare the patent invalid.
Why? Because Ralph Baer worked in the military industry.
From the Apollo program to military submarines, countless patents were developed by him. A scientist like that is considered a national treasure in the United States.
So what if he over-applied for a civilian patent? Even if it was just a money-making scheme, most people would simply turn a blind eye.
Note:
① The story of how the "video game and training device" patent was born comes directly from Ralph Baer himself. In his 2005 memoir The Birth of Video Games, he described how the Patent Office initially refused to register it and the incident that followed.
② The U.S. Patent Office and the Copyright Office are like twin siblings—both notorious for their blunders. Companies simply don't trust them, because they've made far too many outrageous decisions.