Return of Pac Man

The munching blob that captured the spirit of an era.

It's 1982. Next to a letter suggesting that Tron, the arcade game, should be read as a "Jungian myth", the journalist Bill Freda quietly announces a new epoch: "In days gone by, the national pastime was baseball. Today, it is Pac-Man." Freda's column appeared in the 30 August issue of InfoWorld ("the news weekly for microcomputer users"), when the Namco corporation's Pac-Man franchise was just two years old. Pac-mania was in full swing.

In April that year, the Goldman Sachs analyst Richard Simon predicted that Atari would sell nine million units of the game by Christmas. Its advent in May 1980 had ushered in what aficionados now call the golden age of arcade gaming, till then only intimated by the Space Invaders craze of the late 1970s. American teens were soon spending over 20 billion quarters a year on video games, translating to approximately 75,000 hours of continuous play. In Japan, the sudden popularity of arcade parlours reportedly caused a national shortage of ¥100 coins.

Freda's declaration of Pac-mania's "epidemic proportions" was no exaggeration. Months after its release, game centres became more common than convenience stores in many American towns. According to Eddie Adlum of RePlay magazine: "Even a few funeral parlours had video games in the basements. I believe churches and synagogues were about the only types of locations to escape."

Pac-Man's profits, meanwhile, quickly surpassed the earnings of 20th-Century Fox's Star Wars, which was the highest-grossing film to date. The video-game format had found its first bona fide pop icon. Stanley Jarocki, then vice-president of the US software distributor Midway, said in an interview with Time magazine: "I think we have the Mickey Mouse of the 1980s."

Thirty years on, it seems curious that a concept so simple could have inspired such devotion and excitement. A two-dimensional, yellow blob moves along a grid, eating nondescript dots or fruit while evading ghosts. And that's it. There's no narrative and no resolution -- not even an end sequence to reward you for your time. Those who try to complete each stage of the game are met with a "kill screen": an unplayable, glitch-ridden half-grid that betrays the limitations of a simple circuit board.

The programmers, it seems, never expected players to reach level 256 -- or that anyone would even want to. Yet six gamers, so far, have reached the fabled finish line. As recently as 2009, David Race "clocked" each stage in an unprecedented three hours, 41 minutes and 22 seconds.

Controversy once raged over whether the kill screen could somehow be negotiated to gain access to further levels, but even after a $100,000 bounty for proof that a 257th level existed was issued by the Florida-based hot sauce manufacturer Billy Mitchell -- himself a record-holder for achieving the first perfect game of Pac-Man -- no gamer came forward. "I have reached the 256th screen hundreds of times and cannot get through," said Mitchell in 1999.

On 5 December 1982, however, an opportunistic Ronald Reagan attempted to ride the craze and sent a presidential letter of congratulation to Jeffrey Yee, who had reported a new record of 6,131,940 points. Other players were sceptical: Yee's score would only have been possible if he had somehow beaten the kill screen.

In late May this year, Google celebrated the 30th anniversary of Pac-Man's Japanese release by hosting a basic version of the game on its home page. The retro tribute proved so popular that the search engine giant has since decided to make it permanently available -- which may be bad news for businesses. According to the software analysts Rescue Time, internet surfers around the world wasted almost five million work hours playing the embedded game during the course of one day.

Pac-Man is, on the other hand, the purest product of the hyper-capitalist, 1980s mindset: a fantasy of the consumer who does nothing but eat and acquire ("rampant consumption", says the games writer Siva Vaidhyanathan).

No wonder Reagan's interest was piqued. With the Tories back in No 10, and a sequel to Wall Street on the way, perhaps no other game will better sum up the spirit of the coming decade.

Yo Zushi is a contributing writer for the New Statesman. His latest album, It Never Entered My Mind, is out now on Eidola Records and is on Spotify here.

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Marching against climate change in the age of Donald Trump

The People’s Climate Movement is as much about politics as science. That's its strength.

Saying goodbye is never easy. But the present generation are facing an awful lot of farewells: to the melting arctic, the dying Barrier Reef, and the general resilience of ecosystems around the world. As Margaret Atwood described it in her essay of the same name: “It’s not climate change, it’s everything change”.

The problem with “everything-change” is that it can be overwhelming. How do you even decide where to start?

The People’s Climate Movement want to begin by making visible the extent of concern out there. This weekend, a coalition of organisations have planned a protest march on the American capital. Between 50,000 -100,000 people are expected to attend, including eco-celebrities Leonardo Di Caprio, Al Gore and Richard Branson.

In London, a group called Campaign Against Climate Change, are co-ordinating a UK-based solidarity event. Protestors will meet at 11.30am in Old Palace yard opposite Parliament, then move to Westminster Bridge, where they will spell out a message to Theresa May: “Trump and May: Climate Disaster”.

For UK campaigners, this is a vital opportunity to raise awareness of the many ways in which action on climate change is under threat. Claire James from CACC outlines the sense of frustration and injustice that many feel with regard to recent government policy: “There have been 12,000 jobs lost last year in the solar industry alone and installation numbers have plummeted. Meanwhile fracking, hugely unpopular, is given determined backing.”

Ahead of the June election, campaigners are using the event to call for specific, cross-party commitments. One, fast-tracking the UK’s delayed Climate Change Plan. Two, ruling out new trade deals that compromise environmental, worker or consumer rights. And three, implementing a fair deal for UK solar and wind industry. “Our action on Saturday is about saying to the government – and to anyone who wants to form the next government – do your policies measure up?” says James.

These concrete political aims are an important way in which the movement differs from last weekend’s March For Science. That protest, inspired by the popularity of the Women’s March earlier this year, kept its message intentionally wide. As one of the London event’s organisers told DeSmog, it placed its emphasis on a generalised “celebration of science”. But this lack of specificity drew criticism from some quarters – for presenting a confusing message about politics' relationship to science.

Generalisation can also risk putting people off joining marches at all. Over the last few months, numerous friends have said they feel uncomfortable joining protests where they’re not sure that the person marching next to them is doing so for the same reasons. They’d feel much happier signing a petition, with a more specific and limited aim, they tell me.

This weekend’s climate marches risk drawing some of the same concerns. “Climate-change has become a synecdoche, a surrogate, for many causes in today’s world – social justice, the protection of nature, the rights of future generations, the defence of science,” says Professor Mike Hulme from King's College London. “Marches such as this give political voice to anti-establishment protest, but they don’t stop the climate changing.”

In addition, not all who want to see climate change prioritised by governments may agree over the exact course of action – with outright opposition to fracking, for instance, or to a third runway at Heathrow.

But this weekend’s movement also appears to have taken these lessons on board. First, they are putting their political aims up front. According the US event’s website, whereas the March for Science strove to be non-political, this movement “believes strongly in the need to call out the politicians.”

The link to the Paris Climate Treaty is helpful in this respect. The People’s Climate Movement traces its birth back to September 21 2014, the eve of the UN climate summit, when 400,000 people marched through New York demanding action on the climate crisis. This gives the movement a clear piece of legislation to both celebrate and defend.

And the London-based event is also attempting to re-think and expand what street-protests can achieve. “We’re doing a smaller action rather than a big march,” explains Claire James, “but we’re trying to have a real focus with the speakers on ‘what next’”. After the protest in Westminster, attendees are invited to join an afternoon of free food, activities and music, hosted by the food waste campaign Feedback. Here there will be even further opportunity to learn about the many ways – from divestment campaigns to local renewable energy groups – in which people can help press for change.

In this respect, public action against the climate crisis promises not to end when the walking does. And while protests won't stop climate change in themselves, joining a march can be a powerful reminder that we are not in this crisis alone.

India Bourke is an environment writer and editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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