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Now that Ralph Baer had said this, Ethan could finally set aside all worries and move forward boldly.
Over the next three days, they spent some time in Nashua, New Hampshire. Arnold Spielberg and Ralph Baer often went off on their own, catching up as old friends, while Ethan, Steven Spielberg, and Jobs—being younger—explored Boston and even took a short trip to Manchester.
It wasn't until Arnold Spielberg decided to return home that they regrouped, then flew back to Los Angeles together.
Since everyone had their own business to attend to, they parted ways after landing. Spielberg didn't forget Ethan's request for a Barbra Streisand album. Because he didn't have it on hand, they agreed to meet again next time so Spielberg could give it to him personally.
After saying goodbye, Ethan drove Jobs home. With nothing else to do, he returned to Palo Alto. Discovering that his sister was at home, he went to her villa and happily shared everything he had gained from the trip.
At the same time, he asked her about the company registration process.
That question made Evelyn fetch a document bag. Ethan took it, opened it, and found inside the entrepreneurship application approved by Stanford. As they had discussed earlier, Vinton Cerf appeared in the mentor's column. Not only that—Barbara Babcock had also been assigned as the company's legal advisor by Stanford University.
This result made Ethan very happy. But when he kept reading, he was even more shocked.
In addition to assigning advisors, Stanford had allocated $100,000 in startup funds to them and provided a three-story building in the school's industrial park. Though the building wasn't huge—just over 17,000 square feet in total, about 500 square meters per floor—it was still an incredibly generous offer for a startup.
"What's going on here?" Ethan muttered, baffled.
"Special cases are handled specially," Evelyn replied with a smile. "After I submitted the application, the professor who reviewed it reported directly to the higher-ups. Because Snake Game was such a huge success, the school decided to give us targeted support.
Don't worry—there are no hidden strings attached. The final approval came from President Terman himself, and I was even fortunate enough to meet him. He told me that since the founding of the Stanford Industrial Park, the school has never successfully nurtured a true star company. He deeply regretted this, because he wanted to see an outstanding company born here in his lifetime.
He felt our company had that potential, so he was willing to help. He also reassured me by sharing a story: back when HP was just starting out, nobody was buying their products. To help, Terman personally called Walt Disney and convinced him to purchase HP's oscillator. That deal gave HP enough income to stabilize."
How could Ethan possibly be concerned? The more help that came his way, the better!
He wasn't some fresh graduate who believed in slogging it out from scratch. Compared to those old stories of "self-reliance," he believed far more in the value of having noble people extend a helping hand!
Putting the documents away with a smile, Ethan added,
"Then the next step is to register the company?"
"Of course." Evelyn nodded. "The company could've been registered a long time ago. I already found an agency, but we still haven't finalized some key details. For example—how much money are you prepared to invest? Do we need outside financing?"
Financing? That made no sense to Ethan. The game company was his cash cow—there was no way he'd hand it over to outsiders! That would be like Valve, which owns Steam, agreeing to outside financing or going public. Impossible.
Those Wall Street financiers who wanted to leech off him?
As for how much to invest…That was up to Evelyn.
"How much do you want to invest?" Ethan asked with a smile. "Do you already have something in mind?"
"Of course." Evelyn smiled back. "I'll put in $300,000 for 30%. You'll put in $700,000 for 70%. What do you think?"
This split made Ethan curious. "Why divide it like that?"
"Because if my share is too small, Stanford's name won't carry any weight." Evelyn explained with a grin. "The student entrepreneurship program is designed to support students starting companies. You're not a Stanford student, so President Terman has no reason to greenlight your business. Of course, if you're willing to enroll, then I wouldn't need to invest at all…"
"Okay,—stop." Ethan waved his hand quickly, cutting her off. "I have no objections."
Study again? Not a chance! Now was not the time to think about going back to school!
As for the 30/70 split? He had no problem with that either.
Because he knew—whether it was Barbara Babcock or Vinton Cerf—it was his sister who had brought them in. And when it came to future game development, he would definitely have to rely on her connections and technical resources. If she held 30%, it was only fair.
While Ethan nodded in approval, his repeated dismissals made Evelyn roll her eyes.
She punched him lightly in frustration and said,
"Then when are you going to tell me about your new idea? Principal Terman and Professor Vinton both told me that once the new product comes out, we should send them one right away. They're curious to see what kind of new idea you'll come up with when you're working your hardest to make games."
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she added, "To be honest… I'm curious too."
"Is that so?" Her words made Ethan laugh. "So all of you are waiting for my next work? Oh—this is really putting the pressure on me— But don't worry. I'm confident.
Evelyn, let's do this: give me a few days to think, and I'll see what kind of game I can create."
Hearing that, Evelyn frowned slightly. Because she caught the ambiguity in Ethan's words. Think about it?What game are you even looking for?
"Oh Ethan, don't you have a head full of ideas already?" Evelyn asked suspiciously. "Why do I get the feeling you're planning to switch from wholesale to retail?"
Ethan had plenty of inspiration. After all, he carried with him the knowledge of an entire world. But that wasn't something he could just flaunt, so he only chuckled and said nothing.
Once the share ratio was settled, the company registration officially began. With the agency's handling, Kismet received its business license on November 14, 1975.
Evelyn Johnson, holding 30% of the shares, became the company's Chairman and CEO.
Ethan Jones, with 70% of the shares, took the role of President.
The following Monday, the 17th, Stanford's promised entrepreneurial funds arrived in Ethan's hands in the form of a check. Not only that—they also handed him the keys to a vacant building in the Stanford Industrial Park. A ten-year lease was signed, at the symbolic price of one dollar per year.
In return, Kismet promised to prioritize hiring Stanford graduates. Once the company's total headcount exceeded 100, then after excluding basic workers, at least 20% of employees had to come from Stanford.
With those formalities completed, Ethan turned to the most important task.
At two o'clock that afternoon, the employment invitation and contract drafted by a lawyer—already signed by Ethan—were faxed from Palo Alto to Nashua, New Hampshire, landing in the hands of Professor Ralph Baer.
It was a long-term contract with no set end date: as long as Baer was willing, he would serve indefinitely as Kismet's Senior Technical Consultant. For this, Kismet would pay him an annual consulting fee:
$50,000 per year for the first five years.
From the sixth year onward, no less than $100,000 annually, with room to adjust higher depending on circumstances.
To be honest, this was a modest sum. Ralph Baer's salary at Sanders alone exceeded $200,000 a year. (And that's $200,000 in 1975 dollars, not 2023!) On top of that, he earned well from patent licensing, so money was hardly a concern.
In fact, the number itself came from him.
As he put it: "Ethan, I don't care how much you pay me. As long as the games you make satisfy me, I'll stay with your company because I love playing games. I also want the whole world to enjoy good games."
Hearing that, Ethan gladly agreed. About an hour later, the acceptance receipt came through Ethan's fax machine. The fully signed contract would follow by mail in about two weeks. (If it went by FedEx, Ethan half-joked, maybe a courier named Chuck would hand-deliver it.)
Once all that was done, Ethan picked up the phone and called Professor Baer.
"Professor, there's something I'd like your opinion on."
"Oh Ethan, just say it."
"It's like this," Ethan explained. "I want to send a statement to Magnavox, informing them that I've established a game company. And I also want to tell them that I've invited you to be our technical consultant."
Those words left Ralph Baer silent on the other end of the line for a moment. Then, after three r seconds, a burst of hearty laughter came through the receiver—
"Oh Ethan! I get what you mean! Fine, just go ahead and send it! Magnavox's habit of indiscriminate lawsuits is downright disgusting. If it were me, I'd slap them too! No—forget that—I want to slap them right now!
They claim they're fighting plagiarism, yet what they're really doing is strangling everyone! It's revolting!
Here, let me give you a suggestion: didn't the Los Angeles Times publish a piece on you? Go straight to them and request an exclusive interview. I guarantee they'll jump at the chance!
And when it happens, you'd better call me—I want to watch! You must call me!"
Baer's reaction made Ethan smile and shake his head.
Yep. The old man really was a sweetheart.
But if things were like this, then it would be easy to handle!
After hanging up, Ethan flipped open the Yellow Pages, found the contact information for the Los Angeles Times, and dialed.
Once the line connected, he came straight to the point:
"I'm Ethan Jones, the inventor of Snake Game. I'd like you to do an exclusive interview. After cutting ties with Atari, I've now founded my own company and reached a partnership with Professor Ralph Baer, the inventor of the Magnavox Odyssey. He's now our company's senior technical advisor."
That's right. Having secured Baer's support, the thing Ethan most wanted now was to make Magnavox choke on it.
To flaunt, right in their faces, that he had successfully pulled off a house steal.
What's that old saying—that a gentleman's revenge can wait ten years?
Bah!
Me, Ethan? I take my revenge morning, noon, and night!