Lights... Camera... ACTION!!: A Hollywood Quest

"They are not!" exclaimed Jordan Mechner's friend Tomi Pierce, her disbelief evident as she looked around Jordan's cramped university dorm. Jordan had insisted on diverting from their planned lunch and coding session to show his older friend a "surprise."

Jordan merely grinned and gestured towards the open letter and money order on his desk. "The script I sent in when I was ten is being turned into a movie."

"But how? I mean, yes, you're talented, but how could a script written by a ten-year-old be good enough to become a movie?"

"Let my ten-year-old self keep the dream. Realistically, it probably ended up in the writing department by accident, inspired someone, and then a lawyer noted the source of inspiration. To avoid any legal issues, they sent me a check."

"That's a bit more reasonable, Jordan. Still, I see several open boxes, and you're standing deliberately, so I can't see something behind you. I know that look on your face—it's the one where you have a surprise and want me to give you the perfect opening. I'm not falling for it this time."

"Ruin the buildup, why don't you?" Jordan chuckled and turned to power on the Apple II, his excitement evident. "Well, as proven by the check and other associated paperwork, I'm connected with Lucasfilm. It's for real."

"I guess?"

"So, I overheard that someone in the computer wing is talking about a pre-release Lucasfilm digital camera that links with an Apple II and has basic graphics editing capabilities…" Jordan hinted, gesturing toward an oddly shaped camera and a box full of floppy disks.

"Please tell me you haven't used your paperwork to buy tech from Lucasfilm that's not on the market yet?"

"Alright, I didn't buy it. I told Lucasfilm I was one of the writers for Prince of Persia and needed it. They just gave it to me."

"Of all the… how didn't they check who you are before giving it to you? Is Lucasfilm's security that bad?"

Jordan grinned and pointed to the check. "They absolutely checked and then contacted the head office. But as shown by them paying me this," he said, pointing at the money order, "I'm listed as a writer for a film in production. What's suspicious about an employee asking for specific equipment?"

"You're going to be in real trouble if they find out," Tomi warned.

"Nah. Worst case, it was authorized by head office. Someone named Steven okayed it, according to something he called the 'Name on the Universal Door Principle.'"

"Never heard of it. What is it?"

"Do you think I asked? I just acted confident, and they let me take the stuff. Anyway, that's not what's important. You know how I've been digitizing my characters for Karateka?"

"Jordan, how you get your cutting-edge tech is important. Lucasfilm isn't exactly lenient when you cross them—ask Murdock or Sony."

"Do you, Tomi?"

"Yes. Take a series of photos of the sequence, print them out, use a black marker and whiteout to get the shapes right, take another photo, and digitize that? What does that mean with you risking your future over a camera?"

"Which takes ages. Then throw out the frame if it's not the keyframe, ending up with a jarring animation like a Ralph Bakshi film, losing a week's work and starting again with the next frame. Guess what having the entire sequence uploaded with a digital camera does?" Jordan said, gesturing toward the computer as he inserted a floppy disk with an excited grin.

"You know I worry, Jordan. You're 17, and I know things have worked out for you so far, but chasing after your dream job recklessly might mean you don't get there at all. What's done is done, but show me the tech. How much faster does it make the rotoscoping?"

"Won you over with shiny tech, huh? Remember the walk cycle I showed you last time? Watch this." He pressed a key, and a white-clad figure flashed through a series of frames, looking almost smooth. Fifteen keyframes a second and a perfect walk cycle in one afternoon. "This is…"

"Can you slow it down again?" Tomi interrupted, staring hard at the screen.

"Sure, why?" Jordan asked, adjusting the frame rate as the transitions in the animation became clearer.

"Single frames, please. Next, next, next… go back one. There, rerun those frames. Do you see it? The sweep isn't quite right. Can you…"

"I see it too," Jordan said, his expression shifting from severe to showing off again. "Let me show you what I gain from having a digital camera for rotoscoping. We plug the camera in here. The graphic editing program is on disk drive two, so we open the files and display the raw images. Find the right frame—this was the last one, so we want this one. Open it up."

"A whole lot of black to differentiate, then white to highlight the clothes, hair, face, hands, and voilà, a new frame. Move it to the working disk and compress the pixels to size." Jordan triggered the animation again.

"Much smoother," Tomi nodded, impressed.

"That would have taken me a month before the camera, and now I'm done just like that," Jordan said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

Tomi's tone was a mix of approval and scepticism. "So, with Karateka all but finished, are you actually going to focus on your studies? And perhaps return the camera BEFORE you get in trouble?"

Jordan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "So there are rumours that Lucasfilm is still pushing ahead with its computer game division despite the crash? That's my ticket. Computers, movies, writing, and comics all in one place. Where else can I get all that?"

"You're not likely to make much money on games. Broderbund is barely holding together. Focusing on computer games isn't helping with your film degree."

"Making a computer game using film principles and visual language from the silent film era won't help my degree? My academic advisor and the fifteen credits I'm getting for it disagree. Submitting a game to Lucasfilm makes me look like an actual employee, and Pixar makes movies too. It's a foot in the door and access to Lucasfilm's toy chest. It's worth the risk." Jordan continued, pointing at the camera before catching Tomi's unimpressed raised eyebrow. He added, "Karateka is worth 15 credits according to my advisor because it has a plot and 'Uses cinematic techniques in a novel medium.'"

"It's not an awful idea, just reckless and time-consuming. I know you've been working on Karateka for more than a year. How long will making another game that gives you 15 college credits take?"

"Not as much as you think. I have a basic engine that can run cutscenes and a camera to help with rotoscoping. I can submit Karateka and swap the sprites for a Star Wars-themed adventure. The gameplay loop is a series of increasingly difficult one-on-one fights. Who would know if I changed the background, cutscenes, and a few sprites? Heck, do you think Lucasfilm would like a Karate Kid version? Anyway, if I keep giving Lucasfilm a series of games—even if they don't sell—that makes me an employee. With that access, I get implied access to poke around, see how movies are made, and learn from real experts instead of boring books. How awesome would it be to play with the original Indiana Jones set and the giant boulder?"

"Is that why your next game, Prince of Persia, has traps?"

"Yeah, beyond wanting a new setting to play with, I wanted my puzzle game to have that adventure feel. Prince has spikes, chomping doors, collapsing floors, and…"

"And it's still missing something. Combat, combat, combat. I tell you the same thing every time. The puzzles are okay, but they need more to drive up the tension besides that giant hourglass clock. Don't get me wrong; it looks and moves great, but it feels more like a tech demo than a finished game. What's its gameplay loop?"

"And where will I get the memory for walking, running, and fighting cycles for all these enemies? A dynamic foe doubles that. It's not like there's a simple command that recreates the sprites."

"Exclusive OR. XOR."

"What? No, it can't be that simple," Jordan complained as he plugged in the code, and the character shifted.

A shimmering outline of a dark figure ran through the same cycles as the Prince, moving with the same hard-won fluidity.
Jordan just sat there, looking at the shimmering silhouette. "You win. That's the Prince's dark shadow, the trickster for driving the plot forward. I guess I am including combat, after all."

"This is going to be important. Jordan, I can feel it. If Lucasfilm doesn't want your Prince game, I want you at Broderbund."

"Can I help you with that geography game? With the red-coated villain. Have you settled on a name yet?"

"Carmen is what we have so far. Karate, filmmaking, and following your dreams getting you a job? Yeah, where was that luck for me? I need help working on this stupid educational software. Can you put a good word for me when Lucasfilm actually wants programmers?"

"I can tell them you were responsible for the combat in the game, and they will snap you up right away. Broderbund and Skywalker Ranch are on the same road, so it should be the same driving halfway up the hill as driving all the way. Just keep my seat warm at Broderbund when I get laughed out the door at Lucasfilm or charged for taking a camera."

She laughed. "Just wave as you go by in the police car, and I can tell them it was all this Steve fellow's fault. Providing testimony to get you out of jail should get me out of half a day programming another hint for where Carmen has gone this time."

A rumbling stomach interrupted their banter.

"Is the camera impressive enough to get a gainfully employed computer programmer to buy a poor, starving college student a meal while we continue this?" Jordan challenged

"I can pull some strings and get you access to Broderbund's staff fridge if you give me a hand programming for an hour or two." Toni offered sheepishly

"Things are that tight, huh?" sympathy evident in his voice

"Yeah. Damn Atari. But hey, if Lucasfilm's paying you for cinematic games, make sure you soak up all the knowledge about filmmaking while you're at it."

Jordan chuckled. "Well, a Lucasfilm writer could spend some of his paycheck thanking a programmer friend for a tip if he also gets a cameo in an upcoming bestselling educational game. It has to be a good game, though—20 million copies sold minimum, lead programmer, you, on the front cover of TIME and so on. I'd settle for half a percent of the gross for an appearance fee."

As Jordan spoke, he slipped the check into his billfold and held the door open.

Tomi followed, still grinning. "Deal. And who knows? Maybe computer programmers will make millions one day, and I can buy you dinner."
Jordan laughed. "That sounds like a plan. And if you play your cards right, maybe you'll star in the next big hit—or at least get a cameo in my movie."

"Wearing one of these Arabian dancing girls' outfits? Pass. I like doughnuts too much for that." She laughed as she stepped out into the bright, sunlit corridor.