The Doubt is still there in the back of my mind. It talks to me from time to time.  ”Jordan!” it says. “What are you doing? You’re taking a step backward. You want to be a filmmaker. It’s time to move on! You brought the Apple-computer-game thread of your life to its climax a year ago. You caught the industry just before it started to die, before you started to lose interest in games yourself. Now you want to do ‘just one more game’… why? Timidity! Fear of breaking loose! You’ll waste a year, man! If you’re going to try for Hollywood, now is the time!”

“Shut up,” I say, and Doubt grumbles and crawls, for the moment, back into its hole.

I feel so dishonest.

Got a letter from Ed.  He waxed enthusiastic about the new game and proposed they fly me out to discuss terms “as soon as it’s convenient.”  How cool is that?!  (Sorry, Mom, Dad… can’t make dinner. Gotta fly out to California for the weekend.  Business.  You know how it is.)

“I think you should pursue screenwriting. Go for it.”

I was surprised and asked her why. She said that Broderbund is a really nice, warm, friendly place to work, but for programmers it’s actually not that great a deal. The older ones, like Chris and David, are starting to get scared, because programming’s the only marketable skill they have, and it’s a young man’s game. The new crop of kids coming up are willing to work harder and cheaper, and don’t have girlfriends or families yet to cut into their working hours. And nobody knows how long the games market will be around, or what it’ll be like next year.

I never would have thought of it quite like that.

It had the same problem it did the last time I saw it.  Small detailed objects against a black background.  It should be cosmic, mind-boggling; people should look at it and say “I can’t believe I’m seeing this on an Apple II.”  But the truth is, right now, it doesn’t look especially impressive.

I said: “You’ve gone the honest, hard-to-program, hard-to-represent route at every step. You need to put in some cheap effects so people will notice the expensive ones.”  I offered a bunch of suggestions.  He was listening, but I could tell he really wanted to believe it was almost there and he could be finished in a month.

Danny’s sunk a lot of time and money into this. I’m worried. Technically, it’s a wonder, but the universe he’s chosen to represent with this awesome piece of programming is so exotic that I’m afraid people won’t respond to it.  It’s what Gene Portwood calls “an effect in search of a game.”

Broderbund’s doing well.  Print Shop is doing insanely well.  I’m almost convinced I want to move out here and do another game.

After I write my first screenplay.

On the one hand, if I live at home for much longer I’ll go stir-crazy. What I need is a place to go. Friends. Work. Moving to Marin and doing another game for Broderbund would give me that.

But it would take time away from screenwriting. In the time it’ll take me to do a new game, I could write three screenplays. And… the games business is drying up. Karateka may make me as little as $75,000 all told, and it’s at the top of the charts. There’s no guarantee the new game will be as successful. Or that there will even be a computer games market a couple of years from now.

Today we drove into Westwood and saw St. Elmo’s Fire. The first movie I’ve ever seen about people my age, i.e., just out of college. Usually it’s either the summer after high school, or freshman year in college. It’s refreshing to see these actors who’ve been playing 17-year-olds for the past five years get a chance to act their age.

Karateka is #2 on Billboard’s bestseller list.