Llamasoft: The Jeff Minter Story Review – Stand By Your Llama

The video game industry is facing a crisis. Men in suits are swooping in to ruin the chances of auteur video games to reach their audience. Strong, creative voices are being sidelined for the sake of mass-advertized licensed titles, all in hopes of creating a voiceless mass that can just churn out products and up the value of established companies. The year is 1991. Jeff Minter releases Llamatron: 2112 for free, as shareware, to stay afloat. It ends up becoming one of the most beloved Llamasoft titles of all time.

On occasion, following video game news and history is difficult. It can be a sad undertaking, following someone’s career just to see their story end unceremoniously, without much information to go around. Someone who was instrumental in creating an experience you loved and could still do so much more may never have gotten a chance to go all out. How many of these kinds of voices are at risk of being lost today?

A txt file explaining how men in suits took over the game industry and attempted to turn it into a money printing machine by making game as fast as possible with as many celebrity appearances and flashy graphics and music as possible.
A text file attached to the shareware release of Llamatron: 2112. Sounds familiar?

Sometimes, however, it is worth it. When you are all caught up with someone’s story and can now appreciate their work as they move forward. In times when you can still become a tiny, miniscule part of their story. Truly, nothing as of late has brought me as much joy as exploring the oeuvre of the Yak in Llamasoft: The Jeff Minter Story. It is zarjaz, as some lover of all beasts hairy might have called it back in the 80s.

It is hard to do justice to the incredible work of the team at Digital Eclipse. All these games, 42 to be exact, are preserved in the most perfect way imaginable. All the filters I could want, borders emulating the screens of the original release machine, options such as restoring the original loading times, the ability to remap controls, instruction manuals, and rewind functionality; but also preservation of the crunchy sounds and eye-blasting visuals with a warning on all the titles and sections that include them. I suppose the only thing I could ask of the developers to make these experiences more immersive is to provide a Commodore 64 joystick on top of it all after I mail them my address.

A chunky text on the screen-inside-a-screen reading "enter llama level"
Another from the large selection of possible titles for a text about this documentary game

I have long thought that the concept of game preservation is not strong enough. What we need alongside it is game appreciation. Video games evolved so much in a few decades before landing in this somewhat steady place as of late; without context and individual research, it is practically impossible to get in the mindset and mood for a little blasting on the Atari. You can launch a game from 1989 and try it out but you will get nothing without the originally attached instruction manual that you have to scour the web for.

It is there that you would learn about how the dots you see for a split second before you explode are a race of invading aliens from an empire that employs mutated camels as weapons, or how the red grid you move on is a power source for your planet. It is also there that you can find out how the darn thing is even supposed to work. Imagination can only take you so far when you do not even know why you are losing.

A picture of the game "Mama Llama" with Jeff saying " I still think it's quite a nice game, but I wasn't that good at game design yet"
Mama Llama is one of Jeff Minter’s most complex games, and good luck trying to play it without reading the manual first

Everything you need to enjoy these games is miraculously found here. It always feels like you are on entirely equal ground as the person who went out and bought the game on the day it was released. Five minutes for reading the manual, 15 minutes for understanding the game, and then however much time you wish for experiencing them at their fullest. It is undoubtedly the best way to play these games on all modern consoles, even if occasionally I had to restart the entire program because they just did not want to start. Hard to count that against it when so much is done right. Getting back is not much of a hassle anyway.

Going in with little to no understanding of Jeff Minter’s games, and little to no appreciation of the platforms he released his games on, if you were to tell me I would find several favorites by the time I was done with this documentary, I would have called you a little kooky. Yet, here I am, thinking about beating my high scores in Ancipital, Revenge of the Mutant Camels, and Tempest 2000 as I write this down.

Screenshot of the game Ancipital with the text reading "Shoot all the beasts, I love these shaggy animals really!"
Each room in Ancipital provides a new, humorous experience that fits right into the modern absurdists game structure perfectly, making it way ahead of its time

These and more are so unbelievably ahead of their time. Some of them represent the kind of variety and pace that stimulate in all the same way present-day media does, just with all the impressive, individualistic touch of Jeff Minter’s characteristic hairy beasties and/or psychedelic lights. They have the kind of heart-achingly inspiring energy that returns only every once in a while when some platform brings up creators with vast amounts of energy and you can see them develop their style at unbridled speed.

I have yet to touch on the documentary part of the experience because it is just that easy to get lost in these games. I mean, there are so many and they are so special! Undoubtedly, however, the most efficient way of experiencing them is by following the four chapters laid out by Digital Eclipse, point by point. You get all the context you need to get entranced in the world of the rapidly changing medium, console to console, year to year.

A picture of a camel with the text descibing how it became the basis of Steinar Lund's art for the 89 release of Attack of the Mutant Camels
It becomes hard not to fall in love with all the hairy animals Jeff was so enamored by

The whole thing may seem a bit unfocused at first, but why should it not be? Some themes run through The Jeff Minter Story in articles about him and the interviews but these glimpses into the man’s mind are ultimately there to enrich each era and each game of his, which in turn offer perhaps far greater insight. The two coexist, and experiencing his work quickly becomes a surprisingly efficient way of understanding everything that could be said. How much can the man be praised in interviews until you just have to feel it yourself?

Everything outside of that is just a brilliant read. There are so many timeless sentiments shared in Jeff’s column in the Zzap magazine and his lengthy newsletters. I was always looking forward to reading the zarjaz-filled texts he would write, describing where he was at dev-wise, tech-wise, and life-wise as the relaxing music graced my ears and the shapes and colors in the background changed constantly. I may understand the excitement for his games by playing them with context, but how else would I understand his excitement for his music visualizers if not by reading about how he would throw parties that lasted through the whole night centered around them?

A psychadelic visual with the text reading "for him is a style not only inspired by the 1980s, but a look that is inspired by psychadelic art."
The part of Jeff’s story that is most difficult to translate is his fascination with psychadelic music visualizers, but Digital Eclipse pulled it off

There are so many lessons to get out of all this. Art inspires art in mysterious ways, after all, it is music that led Jeff to the Psychedelia visualizer, which eventually led to the Neon engine. The neverending corporate circle of always trying to make things more profitable and efficient will continue to ruin what we love. Reviews should always be read with the understanding that modern journalism requires similarly quick output to that of entertainment at large. Silly little pixels mean so much more to impressionable young minds, and the bonds they create can lead to unimaginable discoveries.

The story ends somewhat suddenly, with the last game (aside from the original title for this documentary: Gridrunner: Remastered) being 1994’s Tempest 2000. Masterpiece it may be, there are still Llamasoft titles that came after, so one might ask where are they? Well, they are out there, waiting for you to discover them. Llamasoft is still making games, with all the zarjaz and pizzazz that only they can muster. There is no ending to this story, just like there never will be for the legacy of these games. You and I can always become a tiny part of it.

A screenshot of Tempest 2000
Okay, that’s all the time I’ve got. I gotta get back to playing Tempest 2000 on my Atari Jaguar (on my PC)

Choosing any one quotable from the series of interviews to put at the end here is no easy task. I could go for Jeff talking about how British his games are to truly drive home the kind of humor you will find here. It could be “making math beautiful” because that is a huge part of his work. Above all else, however, it is the mixture of both, as well as his perseverance in the craft, that is best summed up by the text that appears when starting up a session of Revenge of the Mutant Camels: “STAND BY YOUR BEAST, PLAYER ONE.”

Hopefully, this review was enough to convince you to get invested in Llamasoft: The Jeff Minter Story. The Gold Master Series, which it is a part of, is undoubtedly one of the best things to ever happen to video games, and this may just be its magnum opus when all is said and done. It earns the highest of high scores like a seasoned arcade player.

Mateusz played Llamasoft: The Jeff Minter Story on PC with a review code.

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