YoIf you were an obsessive video game fan in the summer of 1994, you’ll remember where you were when the August issue of Edge magazine appeared. By then, Sony had already announced its intention to develop the PlayStation console (in October last year), but it was the cover of the world’s most innovative gaming publication that really opened up the machine’s possibilities. In addition to listing its full specs, Edge garnered enthusiastic statements of support from Capcom, Namco, and Konami. One breathless developer told the magazine: “It’s going to revolutionize the way computers are right now.” Suddenly, the entire structure of the console gaming business was threatened. All I needed was a push.
Sony’s entry into the video game industry has become the stuff of legend (and probably, one day, a passable Netflix movie). In the late 1980s, the company was eager to gain a foothold in an increasingly profitable business after the failure of its MSX gaming computer, so when the opportunity arose to build a CD-Rom drive for the upcoming Super release Nintendo console (SNES), Sony went for it. However, deep down, Sony engineering genius Ken Kutaragi was also designing a standalone system, the games stationcapable of playing SNES games as well as a new CD format that Sony itself would control.
Nintendo felt the threat to its hegemony. Consequently, when Sony announced the PlayStation at the mammoth 1991 Consumer Electronics Show in Chicago, Nintendo immediately revealed that it was actually canceling the deal and would instead partner with Philips to produce its SNES-based companion CD. Sony was shocked and humiliated; the bride abandoned in the great cathedral of the technology industry. Various theories have been put forward about Nintendo’s motives, but the most obvious is that it was a highly protective company regaining control of an ambitious consumer electronics rival. No matter what, the PlayStation was dead. Or was it?
Well, no. It wasn’t. Instead, Sony furiously scrapped its Nintendo-based technology and Kutaragi began work on a new gaming machine, codenamed PS-X, designed around a powerful 32-bit Risc processor with a built-in coprocessor called the Geometry Transformation Engine designed to handle the mathematics of fast and detailed 3D images in real time. At this stage, in the early 1990s, the company made two crucial decisions: it signed a development deal with arcade legend Namco to produce titles exclusively for the new PS-X, and it sent its engineers to a world tour of developers, attracting them. to support the console with exciting 3D graphics demos. Sony brilliantly took advantage of widespread frustration with Sega and Nintendo, which had spent years locking publishers into complex and restrictive licensing deals, but also attracted programmers and artists with its exciting technology. By early 1994, it had 250 companies signed up to create games for the machine, hitting the meager support built up by rival multimedia consoles such as the Philips CDi or 3DO. There was a sense of growing momentum.
When the PlayStation launched in Japan in December 1994, it was up against Sega’s long-awaited Saturn, a seemingly similar 32-bit CD-Rom machine backed by that company’s biggest arcade titles, Daytona USA and Virtua Fighter. At first, Sony seemed hesitant, the machine’s launch failing to attract the same kind of chaotic queues that had greeted the Saturn a few weeks earlier. But then, as the US and European release dates approached, both the hype and the software library grew. Titles like the 3D fighting game Toh Shin Den, the platformer Jumping Flash! and the racing game Motor Toon Grand Prix showcased the machine’s visual potential, with rich, detailed 3D environments and fluid vehicle and character animations. By the end of that year, Wipeout and Tekken had joined the list: beautiful, exciting games, full of attitude and that perfectly exemplify Sony’s philosophy: if it’s not real time, it’s not a game.
Starting in 1996, Sony really began to push the PlayStation as a lifestyle accessory rather than simply a children’s toy. Sony London marketing chief Geoff Glendenning took the console to nightclubs and music festivals; The huge advertising company TBWA was hired to develop a new image of the machine as something interesting and desirable, culminating in the award-winning 1999 year. Double life commercial. But most importantly, the console’s accessible development environment and Sony’s excellent support for third-party studios led to an era of fervent experimentation.
Looking back at titles like Resident Evil, Tomb Raider, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, and Driver, we see the origins of modern 3D game design: open, explorable worlds, genre-defying designs, and cinematic narratives. We saw Namco stepping into its role as a semi-first-party creator, taking its Ridge Racer and Tekken franchises to new technical and design heights. We saw Japanese publishers move away from their restrictive relationships with Nintendo and Sega to deliver lavish epics like Final Fantasy VII and Metal Gear Solid.
But fundamentally, the PlayStation also provided an undercurrent of eccentricity and joy. From PaRappa the Rapper to Vib-Ribbon to LSD: Dream Emulator, music and imagery were explored to sometimes disconcerting effect. And while twenty-somethings loved Tony Hawk and Tekken, kids weren’t far behind: this was also the era of adorable cartoon platformers: Jumping Flash, Spyro, Croc and Crash Bandicoot. When Nintendo finally released the N64 in 1996, it found that PlayStation had already claimed a large chunk of its potential audience. Another layer of Sony’s long revenge.
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The original PlayStation would sell 100 million units over its 10-year lifespan. It broke the monopoly that Sega and Nintendo enjoyed and cemented a number of giant game franchises that still thrive today. At the time of its launch there was uncertainty about the CD-Rom format, which was slower at accessing data than cartridges, but Sony used its experience in music and movie technology to overcome the obstacles and establish the format as the future. . Its industrial design was excellent: a sleek gray machine that fit next to the TV and VCR in the living room; an innovative joypad; those cute memory cards; that startup animation with its wave of music. The TV ads made you want one, the introductory price ($299 compared to the Saturn’s $399) made it affordable.
But when you look back at that Edge magazine article, published months before the Japanese release and followed by many other similar evaluations in the gaming press, it already felt like something momentous was happening. Quotes, specifications, demo screenshots seem to pop off the pages. If PlayStation’s success wasn’t inevitable at the time, it was the closest you’ll ever get to the notoriously unpredictable video game business.