Satoshi Tajiri's Accounts of Xevious

Commitment to Mini-Comics (XEVIOUS 1982)

October 1st, 1982

I’m thinking of trying my hand at a mini-comic. I’m going to make a video game magazine. The word “magazine” sounds very grandiose, but in reality it’s just a stapled-together photocopy of a manuscript. So I don’t think it’s such a big deal. The word “mini-comic” also has a kind of cool sound to it, and what I’m planning to do is to make a doujinshi. This is probably the best option. Besides, it doesn’t cost that much to make a copy magazine. All you have to pay is the cost of photocopying and staples; there’s no need to worry about printing costs. My monthly allowance now is mostly for video games, but I can raise enough money to pay for the production of the magazine.

But there’s a good reason why I suddenly started thinking like this. It’s because I really like video games. It’s simple and clear, but I think it’s compelling nonetheless. Generally speaking, I’m dissatisfied. Nowadays, there’s so many magazines and books in the bookstore, but they don’t carry even a single book about video games. I’ve always wondered why there weren’t any, even though I wanted one so badly. I had hoped that one day a game magazine would be published and I could buy it at bookstores, but I just couldn’t wait until then. I also thought that there must be many people in Japan who love video games as much as I do and are thinking about the same thing. With this in mind, I decided to create my own video game magazine. I want people like me to read it.

I am the editor-in-chief of this mini-comic. But I’m the only staff member. There is no one else yet. For now, I think I need to make this book by myself and then recruit staff for it. Either way, it’s important to take action first. There is a saying, “Gamers grow old easily, and learning is difficult”. No, I don’t think so. But I can’t sit still.

Video games are really interesting. I will never forget my first experience playing a video game, Space Invaders, on the roof of a department store. It was during my first year of junior high school. And ever since then, I have been excited and enthusiastic about these high-tech games. The game center is my after-school experience.

Well then, tomorrow, I’ll go buy manuscript paper and a pen.

February 1st, 1983

The first issue of the mini-comic magazine is finally ready. Its name is Game Freak, which means “someone who passionately loves games”. The content includes reviews of new games and introductions to playing techniques I know. It’s only eighteen pages long, much thinner than a newspaper, of course. I stapled the photocopies together and made 20 copies in total. I’m thinking of going to bookstores to see if they will carry it.

By the way, when I dropped by a game center in Shinjuku today, I found a new game. It was a video game with an atmosphere I had never felt before. It had a mysterious power that made me think I might become addicted to the game. When I started the game, my alter ego, a fighter jet, was flying over a large forest. I could see the ocean to the left of the forest. It was beautiful. The fighter jet is white with blue lines. According to the explanation card on the table, its name is Solvalou. Then, out of nowhere, a series of realistic enemy flying objects come flying by, one after another. I don’t know how to explain it, but they look like metal, stone-colored, three-dimensional characters, and they are coming in droves. The aim of the game was to shoot down these mysterious enemy characters. Meanwhile, on the ground, there were gray, dome-like buildings dotted around. Red lights were flashing slowly in the windows of the domes. It was a mysterious sight.

The first thing that struck me as unusual about the game was the way the enemy characters’ attacks would come in waves, and then suddenly nothing would appear. It feels kind of weird. I have never played such a game before. Just like with hiccups, the enemies seem to be about to appear, but they don’t appear, and sometimes they appear when you think they won’t. When the enemy doesn’t attack at all, you feel the pressure of an invisible enemy. The first enemy character in the game was quite impressive. He would approach my fighter and then immediately run away. It was like a reconnaissance plane. I couldn’t help but feel that the enemy characters had a will of their own. I also liked the spinning board. It didn’t break no matter how many times I shot it, but it looked a lot like the one in the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. There was a board called “monolith,” which was something like that. These gray rectangular plates were spinning slowly and flying at me one after another. Come to think of it, I feel like the atmosphere of this game is similar to that of that movie.

In the end, I ended up spending 2,000 yen on this game today. It’s been a long time since I’ve played with such enthusiasm that before I knew it, my wallet had become light. Thanks to this, I have no money for tomorrow’s lunch, but it can’t be helped because I have found an interesting game. I think I’ll hold out for tomorrow’s lunch.

If my intuition is correct, I’m sure everyone will play this game enthusiastically. There seems to be a lot going on in this game. I sense something that can’t be seen with the naked eye. I can’t explain it well, but when I play this game, I get excited with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

When I had played hard enough, I saw the Nazca Lines on the ground. On the vast brown desert, a picture of a bird was drawn in thin lines. At that time, I felt a strong aura about this game. And then, I saw it. A huge fortress that I had never seen before appeared.

My all-time favorite game. I’m going to make a mini-comic magazine again for this game. The second issue will feature XEVIOUS. I will thoroughly pursue this game. Please look forward to it.

The Boy with Ten Million Points (XEVIOUS 1982)

At first, no one noticed that a boy had entered the room. Playland “M”’s most popular table was usually occupied by somebody, and to play you had to wait your turn in line behind them. For some reason, on that particular day, the table was empty, as if it was waiting for something.

The boy entered “M” alone. His thick black coat made him look a little more mature, but his face was clearly that of a high school student. Without stopping at the corner or the exchange counter, he walked straight to the game table, slowly took off his coat, hung it on the chair next to the game table, slowly took out a 100-yen coin from his brown wallet, and slipped it into the slot of the game table.

I had come here after my Saturday morning classes were over and after eating at home. Playland is located in the heart of the downtown area and is one of the largest game centers in the city. It is known for its beautiful interior and large number of game machines. There was a steady stream of customers all day long, ranging from elementary and junior high school students to young office workers. In the back right corner of the arcade, there were fifteen or sixteen video games being played at half-price, 50 yen per game. This is what is commonly called the 50 yen corner. I was playing Mr. Do! there. This game was my favorite because it was fun and could be played for a long time.

The inside of the store was always filled with the voices of players talking, shouting, and the loud sounds of games, but that day, more than ever, it felt like a huge mass of that sound was weighing down on my head. I don’t know why, but I had the feeling that something was about to happen. There was a strange buzz inside the store. Suddenly, I looked up from the monitor screen on the table and saw a crowd of people forming on the other side.

“What is that?”

The crowd of people, about twenty, had formed around a single game console. I grew curious. I watched as the last Mr. Do was crushed to death by an apple and the game was over, and walked quickly toward the mass of people without even putting in my high score name.

A boy was playing a game there. The game he was playing was Xevious, a new product that is rapidly gaining popularity. He played with precision and calmness, without shaking his body in the slightest.

Sighs of “wow, he’s good!” could be heard from the gallery. His brilliant play, as if he was assembling a stream of parts on an assembly line, completely captivated those around him. He really seemed like a machine playing a game. I couldn’t help but sigh as well.

“He scored 800,000 points, he’s a good player.”

There aren’t many people who can get such a high score. I played Xevious a lot, too, but I only managed to get that high of a score three or four times. I was impressed, but I turned on my heel, thinking, well, there are guys like this from time to time. Then, the moment I was about to go back to playing Mr. Do!, I was taken aback. I turned around and looked at the score on his battle screen again. Oh, my gosh. I realized that I had read one of the digits of the score wrong. The boy had scored over 8 million points. At the bottom of the monitor screen, spare Solvalou fighter jets were lined up in a row like railroad ties. It showed how long he had been playing this game.

“Wow, that’s amazing. How in the world can you get a score like this?”

Another hour later, the boy was surrounded by a gallery of more than 30 people. The boy had just passed the 9.8 million mark. To me, it looked like the game machine was spewing out hot air, as if it was about to overheat. However, the boy himself never got excited and just stared at the monitor with an ice-cold gaze. One after another the enemy planes that flew in, Torkan and Terrazi, were shot out of the sky. His play was so calm that it was almost abnormal.

“He sees through all their moves,” someone in the gallery shouted.

Then came the final stretch. When the boy reached 9,960,000 points, the game machine underwent its death throes. Suddenly, the machine emitted a high-pitched sound like a fanfare which wouldn’t stop. The gallery, which had been behind him watching him play, was startled, and for a moment, a wave of astonishment had washed over the crowd. This is the strange phenomenon known as “infinite proliferation”^[iii] among game freaks.

Game machines are equipped with state-of-the-art computers. But even such computers have a limit to the maximum score they can store. As you approach that limit, the game machine starts to go slightly awry, and each time you defeat an enemy character, the number of reserves of the Solvalou fighter jets increases by one. The sound of the extended fanfare echoed throughout the game center. The gallery looked at the boy with bated breath. Finally, the score stopped at 9,999,990 points. The game continued, still screaming. However, the boy stopped pressing the fire button at that point. He must have thought that there was no point in playing any longer since he had achieved the highest score. Quietly, he slowly removed his hand from the lever. To my surprise, when I looked at him, his palms were not even a little bit sweaty. At that moment, the gallery erupted into applause.

“Amazing. Magnificent,” “Unbelievable,”

He received the greatest compliments from people all over the arcade. However, he silently put his hand on his coat and, without greeting the gallery, started toward the automatic door.

I ran after him. In my haste, I hit my right knee as hard as I could against the foot of the game table, but I kept chasing after him, still holding my knee with both hands. Then, just before he stepped out the door, I called out to him.

“Hey,”

He turned around with his hands in his coat. I had been chasing after him, wanting to say something, but for some reason I couldn’t get the words out. I had to say something, so I desperately formed the words in my head.

“Why didn’t you put your name in the High Score box?”

I finally managed to speak. He answered in an emotionless voice.

“That would mean that I’d have to increase the number of Solvalous to 256 and die to finish it. That’s why I don’t bother entering my name.”

“Huh, huh. Wow, that’s amazing skill.”

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal. You can do it too,” and started walking into the crowd of people in the game center which was heading towards the station.

“Your name...”^[iv]

I was about to say that, but then I stopped. He disappeared into the crowd. I remained standing in front of the automatic door, stunned. As I saw him off, I could still hear the screams of the game machine coming from the open door behind me.

Footnotes

1. "パックランドでつかまえて".^⬆️️


2. "ファミコン必勝本".^⬆️️


3. The original phrase is "無限増え", or as Wikipedia says, "無限増殖". It refers to exploits such as the one described above, and also the infinite lives trick in World 3-1 of Super Mario Bros, among others.^⬆️️


4. The boy in this story is likely intended to represent Yasuhiro Ohori, the author of the legendary strategy guide called "How to get 10 Million Points in Xevious". This strategy guide was later republished as the second issue of Tajiri's Game Freak magazine. Interestingly, in the previous chapter, Tajiri seems to be taking credit for writing the guide himself.^⬆️️