Undead Labs

Happy 2012, fellow survivors!

After a well-earned break for the holidays, Team Zed is back in the Lab and pounding away at the code, art, sound, and design for ‘Class3′.

To celebrate the new year—and, okay, because we haven’t updated you in a few weeks—I took some “spy cam” footage in the Lab today with my trusty iPhone. We’re not quite ready to post official trailers at this point, but I snuck up on Foge as he was testing out some ambush functionality on the Lab TV, so you might catch a glimpse of some early-alpha Class3 gameplay goodness.

Or maybe more than a glimpse…

As we jump into the new year we also bid farewell to Emily, who took point on our website and kept in touch with our community and fansites such as MMOZed.com. Emily is off to new adventures, and we wish her well. Don’t worry—we’ll be keeping you up-to-date on our progress here on the Undead Labs website, and we’ll also be announcing plans for a more robust community site soon.

We had a tremendously productive year in 2011, and we’re anticipating an even better 2012. I’m happy to say that Class3 is on schedule and looking great. We’re excited to show it to you and the rest of the world officially—assuming I don’t get my ass kicked for leaking unofficial gameplay footage…

Jeff

Update: It looks like our comment system is biffed. We’re working on it. For now you can leave comments for the dev team on the Lab Facebook page.

Update 2: Comments fixed. Thanks Liz!

From the first time I saw Night of the Living Dead when I was 13, I was hooked. That stark, black-and-white photography, the unrelenting brutality of the walking dead, the pressure-cooker intensity of the conflict between those few desperate survivors, and that ending! Zombies had their hooks in me and never let go. Dawn followed Night, of course, and from there the rest of Romero’s works, Fulci’s Italian giallo zombie movies, anything I could get my hands on. I devoured the movies, dragged my Dungeons & Dragons group kicking and screaming into games of All Flesh Must Be Eaten, and generally watched, played, and read just about anything zombie-related I could get my hands on.

Still, just about any fan knows that all things zombie aren’t created equal. It’s a polarizing genre, encompassing classics of cinema like my old friend Night of the Living Dead, modern blockbusters like Zombieland, and, let’s face it, some pretty cheesy (but still fun) low-budget schlock-fests. Now that I get to do this for a living, I find myself analyzing the zombie stories I’ve loved for more than half my life, asking myself: What separates a fun zombie story from a great one?

Well, I’ve got a theory about that…

At the heart of the matter, good zombie stories aren’t really about the zombies at all. Zombies are a catalyst for story, the fuel that makes the engine run. But just like fuel without an engine can’t take you anywhere, zombies without the core foundation of story can’t move you. Sure, it’s fun to brain them with a tire iron, but by themselves zombies are just monsters to be killed.

Characters, and the conflicts between them, are that core foundation. They’re what the story is really about. They give context to all the zombie-killing, supply-scrounging, base-building action and make your decisions mean something. When you can see the impact your choices make on the world as a whole and on these few scared, scattered people who are your fellow survivors, those moments stick with you.

Picture this scenario: Your friend Ed is sick, maybe dying, and nobody wants to risk him turning in the middle of the night and eating everyone in their sleep. If you can’t get him a doctor, the others are going to throw him out onto the street — assuming they don’t just put a bullet in his head and be done with it. You know of a doctor who survived this whole thing, but he’s not feeling charitable. He’s got expenses, he says, and the meds he needs aren’t easy to come by. He wants more than you can barter, and more than you can hope to scrounge before Ed’s too far gone to save. Maybe you’ve never drawn a gun on a man in anger before, or maybe you have, but the question is: How desperate are you to save your friend?

Here’s another one for you: You haven’t found any food in several days. Your stores are running dangerously low, and you come back from a scouting run to find that one of the other survivors in your camp has been caught stealing from the storeroom. That’s the difference between life and death out here, not just for you but for the whole community that trusts you and relies on you. When Jeb mutters “Somebody get a rope,” what’s the call you’re going to make?

These are the kinds of stories we want to tell — stories that dig down into the people who survived the zombie apocalypse huddled together in makeshift habitation. We want to examine the conflicts that arise in these pressure-cooker situations, whether they’re related to long-term survival or the stresses of post-apocalyptic life or folks who just plain don’t like each other. We want to use the zombie apocalypse as a metaphor, to examine the human condition the way all the great zombie films do.

I have a little trick when I’m writing for Class3. Everything I write, whether it’s a character (like crusty old Doc Hanson or those trouble-causing Wilkerson boys), a plot element, or a chunk of dialogue, I ask myself: “Would this still be awesome if it didn’t have zombies?” If the answer is anything less than a resounding “yes!”, it goes back to the drawing board. Zombies bring the awesome to just about anything, but I don’t want to give you folks “just about anything”. I want to give you the awesomeness of zombies on top of the awesomeness of a compelling story full of interesting characters with nuanced, believable motivations.

Everything I’ve learned in my career as a writer and every project I’ve worked on has prepared me for writing Class3. Alpha Protocol taught me about forcing the player to make hard choices with no clear right or wrong answer, and making the consequences of those decisions have a lasting impact on the game space. Fallout: New Vegas taught me to build a believable post-apocalyptic society, and the tricks and techniques for writing a coherent story in an open-world game where any character can die at any time. My years of writing tabletop gaming books for World of Darkness were all about creating moments of evocative, intense horror and emotional conflict between characters.

So, there you have it: My philosophy on writing zombie games. Take the zombies out of the equation and be damn sure you’ve got a rock-solid story full of interesting, well-developed characters and exciting action.

Then put the zombies back in so those characters can smash their heads in with tire irons.

Travis

(Emily’s note: If you just can’t get enough Travis and would like to know more about him, be sure to check out Jeff’s introduction.)

Frank: So, how many are you holding back?
Joe: How many what?
Frank: You know… bullets. For just in case.
Joe: Jesus, don’t even start that shit with me, man!
Frank: What? You know it’s better than some of the alternatives. You ever seen a person starve to death?
Joe: No, and neither have you.
Frank: Okay, but I have seen what those things can do to a person. And if it comes down to that or a bullet…I got three. One for me, one for Millie, and one for Peter.
Joe: I think I’m gonna be sick.
Frank: I know it’s ugly, man, but you got a wife and kids too. You ought to think about it. It’d be kinder.
Joe: Just…go away, Frank.

This isn’t Shakespeare. It’s also not Stephen King. It’s sure not Emily Post. Hell, it doesn’t sound like book or movie dialogue at all.

And that’s exactly why we asked Travis Stout to join Team Zed to write Class3.

I often have a hard time with dialogue in movies and games, because it sometimes just doesn’t sound like the way real people talk. Like most of you, I didn’t grow up around Oxford professors or jet-setting, poodle-toting socialites. I grew up in a “normal” town in Texas, surrounded by real people—college graduates, high-school dropouts, doctors, farmers, cool people, jerks—and real people don’t say, “Joe, I think it’s time for us to discuss the number of bullets you are holding back as a hedge against the worst-case scenario.” They say, “So, how many are you holding back?”

We want to make a game that feels real—like a place you could actually be, doing things that could actually happen—and one of the most important aspects of that is finding a writer who understands how to build a believable world and fill it with believable characters.

In August we posted a job opening for a writer to our website that began, “If you’re a passionate, professional author or game writer who loves horror, knows your zombies, and wants to tell the story of the struggle to make it in a ravaged world, there may be a spot for you on Team Zed.”

That’s how we found Travis, an industry vet who’s been writing professionally in the game industry for a decade. He’s contributed heavily to Dungeons & Dragons rulebooks and campaign settings (notably the 4th Edition Dark Sun campaign setting), White Wolf Game Studios settings (particularly the World of Darkness products), and most recently, extensively to the writing and design for Fallout: New Vegas and Dungeon Siege 3. And, fortunately for us, he’s also a hardcore zombie fan.

After sorting through hundreds of applicants and subjecting the final ten or so to an arduous three-month interview process, we knew that Travis was the guy we wanted, and were able to convince him to join us to helping us to build the very real world of Class3.

Welcome aboard, Travis!

Now, how many are you holding back, man?

Jeff

P.S. Don’t forget to check out Travis’s welcome to his fellow survivors!

Years ago, my future mother-in-law was curious about what I did for a living and asked me a question about being a game animator, “So do you have to draw every frame?” I thought to myself, “Thank God I don’t have to create 30 drawings for every second of gameplay.”

How could I explain it all? Sometimes what I do is technical, like when you adjust the weighting on a rig so moving a character’s wrist doesn’t make his shoulder flex in a weird way. Other times, it’s a form of acting, creating personality and mood with a stance or a movement. Often, it’s simply about getting the motion right, adjusting how a foot eases into or out of a pose, or showing kinetic energy transferring from one part of the body to another.

Working on a game, you use the same techniques as movie animators, but you often have extreme timing and movement restrictions to fit game balance requirements, and you rarely get to build an animation with just one camera shot in mind. You try to make things look great from every angle. It’s challenging, but when it all comes together, you take a beautiful, static model created by the art team and make people see it as a living, breathing being.

This is what I do.

As a kid, I always liked to draw, but the thing that really inspired me was animation. I would watch Looney Tunes and Disney classics no matter how many times I had seen them before. I loved old Ray Harryhausen movies like Jason and the Argonauts from 1963, and all of his Sinbad movies. Early on, I knew I wanted to be an animator.

As I got into my late teens, though, I learned that opportunities for animation schooling and jobs were few and far between. So when it came time to go to college, I looked for something more practical. A year of drawing bolts and geodesic dome houses taught me that architectural and mechanical drafting was not my true calling. I moved to graphic design next — first at the University of Washington, then transferring to Cornish College of the Arts to finish my BFA. It was interesting, but not inspiring.

Then I got lucky. In 1989, the last semester of my senior year, Cornish added a brand-new class to its curriculum: computer graphics. It probably sounds funny now, but back then things like PageMaker, Freehand, and Macromind Director were cutting edge. These weren’t just new pieces of software; they were entirely new ways to do things. Having access to Director let me try my hand at animation — I still remember that first experience of putting together a series of images and making it come to life.

That was my way into the field. In 1991, a buddy at Microsoft was looking for someone who knew Director to create animations for a new application called Cinemania. I didn’t know how to animate very well yet, and I barely knew the software, but I was in the right place at the right time. I knew this was the chance to do what I’d always wanted, and I wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Over the next few years, I used every free moment to get better and looked for learning opportunities wherever I could. Through a friend at work, I managed to get after-hours access to an expensive SGI computer running Softimage, a high end 3D program. I stayed late every night and taught myself how to model and animate in 3D.

My timing couldn’t have been better, because a game development boom was just starting in Seattle. I felt like I’d landed my dream job when I went to a little studio called Sucker Punch, where I got the chance to animate all of Sly Cooper’s moves in Sly Cooper and the Thievius Racoonus. Up until then I had only done small pieces of character animation, so this was the first time I was ever responsible for fully animating a character — especially a cartoony one with a personality like Sly.

During my time at Sucker Punch, I learned a ton about how animation affects the responsiveness of a character in a game. Animators are trained to have the character anticipate action, but in games, anticipation tends to go out the window in favor of getting the immediate response players expect when they press that button on their controller. With little to no anticipation, you start to learn little tricks that help sell the animation and direct the viewer’s eye.

Until this point in my career, I’d been primarily animating characters by hand. I didn’t have much experience with motion capture (mocap) animation, but this changed when I started working on MAG. While I was responsible for hand keying all of the first person and weapon animations, I also helped direct mocap shoots and modify the mocap data to match the game’s animation style. This experience helped me with my work on SOCOM4, where I was responsible for not only hand keyed character, vehicle, and cinematic animations, but also for character mocap.

I first found out about Undead Labs from my friend and old co-worker, Steve. When I learned that he and two of my other old colleagues, Foge and Shaun, were there too, I knew I had to be a part of the team.

I think that third-person action games are the most fun and challenging to work on as an animator because they really let you put a lot of personality into the characters. Animating combat is also one of my favorite things, and zombie combat is especially appealing to me because you gotta animate over the top!

It seemed like the Lab had everything I could want in a company and a project, and I feel very fortunate to be here.

Class3 presents a great opportunity to do things in animation and in games that I’ve never done before. At this point, I have been animating for games for nearly 20 years, but I’m still hungry to learn new things. As an animator, you can always improve — you’re always learning and there’s always more to learn.

I look forward to the challenge.

Reid

(Emily’s note: If you just can’t get enough Reid and would like to know more about him, be sure to check out Jeff’s introduction.)

Earlier this year we posted an open position for a talented animator to join Team Zed. A few short weeks later, we deleted it. Since it was rare for us to post a position on our website in the first place — most of us at the Lab have been working together for years — we immediately received questions about why we had removed the job post.

Simple: Reid Johnson had found us, and we’d found Reid Johnson.

Reid is a talented industry veteran who has been animating top-tier video games for more than a decade. Reid is most well-known as the animator responsible for animating Sly Cooper in Sucker Punch’s Sly Cooper and the Theivius Raccoonus, for which he won a “Best Animation” award from the Academy of Interactive Arts and Sciences. Before joining us at the Lab, Reid was at Zipper Interactive for six years creating the more realistic animation for the SOCOM and MAG franchises

Creating  motion-captured — or “mocap” — human animation for military shooters like SOCOM and MAG is one thing, but Reid made a freaking raccoon look fluid, graceful, and full of larcenous intention. And he did it all by hand. Turns out, they don’t make mocap suits for raccoons. They do make mocap suits for zombies — and we’ll be putting them to good use in Class3 — but Reid’s got the talent to inject that just-over-the-top coolness you get from hand-built key-framed animation, so we’ll get the best of both worlds.

I can’t wait to see what he can do with a zed horde, a desperate survivor, a lead pipe, and a proper dismemberment system.

One final note: Reid is the coolest character I’ve ever met. I don’t mean cool like celebrity-snowboard-god cool, or hipster-coffee-snob cool, either. I mean cool as in, well, chill. I just don’t think the guy can be rattled, stressed out, or even surprised. He just exudes a sense of “Relax people, I got this shit.”

When Z-Day comes, I’m with Reid.

Jeff

P.S. Don’t forget to check out Reids’s welcome to his fellow survivors!

On Friday, September 23, a detailed Survivor Diary was discovered near the Undead Labs office in Seattle. From the author’s references to his years of work as a video game artist, we’ve been able to ascertain that these are the writings of one John Gronquist.

The following excerpts provide insight into his personality, his life history, and the conditions he faced during the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse.

Read on to learn his story…

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March 20

I can’t believe how much this guard tower is starting to feel like home. It’s only been a few weeks since we hoisted the recliner up. It’s starting to feel like my old living room, only instead of late-night horror movies, I’ve got the real thing. It’s all zombies, all the time.

There’s no electricity at the moment, but I still brought a TV up here for shits and grins. It’s sitting unplugged in the corner, and makes a great foot stool.

The rest of the camp is perfectly happy with me spending most of my time up here. We don’t have enough manpower to cover all the guard posts, and I’m one of the best shots in the camp. Who’d have thunk that a handful of years in the military in my youth would help me score the safest spot in the apocalypse?

Was that really me, all those years ago? It’s starting to feel like some other life I heard someone talking about while I was busy keeping an eye out for runners or screamers.

I spent four years in the Air Force — two stationed in the hills of Germany and two in San Antonio. In Germany, I learned respect for quality beer and mustard. In Texas, I learned respect for cheap beer and pico de gallo, and met my wife of 21 years. I hope her and the kids are doing okay out there. God knows she’s more capable of handling this than anyone else I know.

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April 27

We finally got the power grid stabilized! The new batteries we grabbed from the boat store were the key — those babies should last us at least a year before they burn out.

It’s nice to be able to charge my laptop again. I can’t believe I still have the thing! It was just laying in the back seat of my car, which is now hanging out of the window of a mini-mart four blocks from here. May as well be four miles with the size of the horde that’s out tonight.

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May 2

Got my laptop back from that damn thief, Dunniway. He snagged it a few days ago but failed to realize that there’s no wi-fi around here. I think he’s been sneaking extra whiskey rations.

I fired it up and took a trip down memory lane. My favorite programs, all intact. Photoshop, of course. My old friend, 3D Studio Max. Maya. Flash. After Effects. God, I was such a junky for anything related to making games.

I got into the industry by painting and teaching myself 3d modeling. I got some freelance work, one thing led to another, and bang — I’m no longer doing database programming. I’m a professional artist!

I’d worked on a number of great projects too, starting with Total Annihilation (ironic, considering our current situation.) I spent my days modeling and animating tiny tanks and robots, and it was amazing. I’d go to work each day and all I’d hear was, “Hey John, can we make that robot bigger, and maybe do some sort of flamethrower effect for it?”

Ha. I’d give anything to get my hands on an actual flamethrower.

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May 7

Almost screwed the pooch today. Was engrossed in a game of Dungeon Siege and a handful of zoms got past my watch. Luckily, McMillan and Dunniway managed to catch them before they got their mouths around anyone at camp. Guess I’ll be giving them my beer rations for a month — they did just save all of our asses.

Still, this game is pretty dang fun. I created most of the UI and cinematics, and even got to model and animate a bunch of stuff for it. A little bit of everything.. I’ve always been a sort of Jack of All Trades. I love figuring out how things work.

Crap. Our scouts are coming back, and they’re dragging a horde behind them. Gotta go…

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June 19

Rough day today. We’re running out of ammo, so we’re having to look for supplies farther and farther from base. Everyone know that we’ll eventually have to leave, but we’ve put so much work into building this thing up. Having to leave “home” is almost more painful to think about then all the crew we’ve lost over the last few months.

On the plus side, we scored an Xbox360 when we were out scavenging! We were so excited that it took us less than five minutes to get that thing up and running. Had to keep the sound down, obviously. Had an even harder time keeping our voices down during our Halo matches.
I casually dropped that I’d worked on FX for Halo 3 and did modeling and sky painting for Halo: ODST.

I’ve now become Target #1 in all our slayer matches for being Braggy McBraggart. Good times.

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July 11

Happy birthday to me. Dunniway says that the giant mob of zombies hanging out at the foot of my tower are celebrating. Yeah, that’s a nice thought. At least they can’t climb ladders.

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July 12

When I woke up, I realized that I was alone — the camp buggered out in middle of the night, headed for safer ground. Thanks a lot, guys.

Maybe they’ll come back for me, but I wouldn’t, so I hope they don’t. I’m glad I grabbed the satchel full of silencers and a case of ammo last night to restock my tower.

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July 13

Lucky day. Some idiot drove a truck through town, pulling away half the horde. If I was a different kind of guy, I may have popped him and “borrowed” his truck.

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July 23

Trying not to use too much of the battery left on my laptop, but I can’t help it…it’s the only link I have to my old self.

Today, I found some concept art and bits of design from when I tried starting my own game company.

Heh. If I had more juice in this thing, I might even try and finish one of these games. Not much else to do up here except wait for the zombies to pile up.

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August 5

I couldn’t stand not having power. Food I could live without, but electricity is the only thing keeping me sane.

They thinned out a little last night, so I made my move. Snuck down the ladder, grabbed a big bag of dog food, a case of beer, hooked a lead wire from the batteries and wrapped it around my waist. I even managed to bring the Xbox back to my tower. You do crazy things when you’re desperate, I guess.

What do you know? My TV foot stool has a new purpose now.

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August 10

I ran out of dog food the other day. Not wanting to deal with the zeds, I held out as long as I could. Got too hungry, so I snuck out again and went exploring. Came back with a case of noodles and another blast from the past: an Undead Labs hoodie I’d found in someone’s closet. We’d finished Class3 about a week before the outbreak hit.

Oh, the irony…

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October 2

The power line got pulled loose by one of those damn stiffs. Stupid screamer got wrapped up in it, and shrieked like an animal until I used my last round to put it out of its misery. Now half the damn town is clustered around my tower again, and I’ve got no way to shut them up. If I don’t die of starvation, I’ll probably go crazy from the moaning.

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October 4

The guy with the truck came back today. Don’t know what he was thinking, driving straight into the mob. Gotta give him credit, though — he managed to take out half of them before the truck got stuck. They pulled him out, and that was that.

I can see the keys through my rifle scope. As soon as it gets dark, I’m going to sneak down and make a break for it. Here’s hoping that there’s gas in the tank…

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October 30

After a hellish drive, I managed to find the new base! Most of the old camp is here. They were shocked to see me, and said they’d left suddenly that night. By the time they realized they’d left me behind, they couldn’t go back — too many zeds to deal with. I was pissed, but when Dunniway told me that he’d heard news about my family, I forgave them. Can’t hold grudges in this kind of world. People need to stick together.

To show how sorry they were, I got treated to a bowl of hot stew. It was some canned crap. The meat was dry, but after living on dog food for weeks, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

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November 7

I miss my family. Going to make my way towards their camp tonight. Wish me luck.

As a parting gift, I gave my laptop to Dunniway. I’m not sure how he plans to do it, but he told me that he’s thinking of restarting the Internet with it. Wish him luck, too.

Signing off.

Gronk

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(Emily’s note: If you just can’t get enough Gronk and would like to know more about him, be sure to check out Jeff’s introduction.)

Exactly one year ago tomorrow, our most excellent art director Doug Williams introduced himself on our website with a post titled “They Actually Pay Me To Do This $%#@”. It was an earnest, personal, and thought-provoking post. And then some clown gets on the comments and posts this gem:

Doug, I think the truck should be more red.
ps. If I eat your brains do I get your powers?

Brilliant. Mod it out? Nah, there’s no harm in it — it’s just silly.

Some people.

A few days later, Doug, James, and Dave came to me and said they knew the perfect guy to fill our recently opened position for an effects and environment artist. “Who?” I asked? “Gronk!” they said, looking proud. Just that: “Gronk”. Like I was just supposed to know who “Gronk” was. Like “Madonna”. Regardless, if these three were endorsing the guy, I figured I should meet him.

“Gronk” came in a few days later to interview for the position. It turns out his name was John Gronquist, and that he was a cool guy, a total bad-ass environment artist, and a zombie freak to boot. He’d spent the last three years doing FX and environment work for some little indie game I’d never heard of — ODST? Or Halo something? Reach 3? All of those.

Fortunately for us, Gronk was ready to tackle something new, and our passion for zombies and the design directions we were exploring for Class3 were right up his alley. He was at the Lab with his hands down in the guts of CryENGINE 3 a few weeks later, and he’s now our go-to guy for effects, user interface, and lighting. He’s a fantastic artist, and we’re lucky to have him.

But there was something about his name that stuck in the back of my mind. Where had I heard it before? Oh yeah. He was the clown who called out Doug for the not-quite-red-enough truck. His comment is still there on Doug’s article, by the way, setting the maturity bar for all of us…

Hey Gronk — thanks for jumping in with us on this. You kick ass.

Jeff

P.S. Don’t forget to check out Gronk’s welcome to his fellow survivors!

If the zombie apocalypse struck tomorrow, who would you take with you? That’s a question we’ve asked before. The answers were very sensible. There was a lot of talk about survival experts, people with military experience, and people with practical, hands-on jobs.

It’s not a surprise that no one listed “computer programmer” as a requirement for their survival dream team. But before you rule out someone like me, consider this — your profession is just one part of your identity. There are a lot of traits that make us unique and experiences that could come in handy in a crisis. There’s a reason I became a programmer, and it’s the same reason you’d want me around after the apocalypse:

I’m obsessed with building stuff.

When I was a kid, I was fascinated with electronics — I’d build everything from radios to motion alarms. When I was 8, I rigged my bedroom door to open and close remotely, and when I was 10, I actually designed my own jet pack. Unfortunately, I never got the resources to build it, but I didn’t give up. In an effort to test some of my flight theories, I designed and built model rockets instead. I never quite got their navigational systems right, so some launches might have strayed a little bit from their intended flight paths, but I was still inspired by these experiments. I took what I learned, created a science fair project that tested a variety of aerodynamic wing shapes and ended up winning an award for my research.

Electronics weren’t the only things I liked to build — I’d also help my dad in his woodworking shop.  When I was 11, he challenged me to design a desk. I did, and it sits in my parent’s house to this day. At 14, I started making my own beds from scratch. And when I say “scratch”, I mean it — I’d often start with rough lumber and cut it into the boards I needed. Since then, I’ve constructed tables, dressers, and all sorts of odds and ends. Most recently, I transformed an old bed into a work bench.

When I was 16, I landed a job with the Interfacial Geochemistry Group at the Hanford Nuclear Reservation. I’d help conduct ground water contamination research in the morning, then head back to high school in the afternoon. My job had me dealing with hazardous materials, so I had to wear protection, and some areas were off limits due to contamination. So as a teenager, I had to get my RAD worker 2 certification for handling nuclear material. That was interesting.

In college, though, I wanted to set myself up for a career where I could create things. I got a degree in computer science with an emphasis in artificial intelligence. That’s allowed me to explore a wide range of interesting projects. Long before things like Win95, Java, Netscape, Google Maps, and instant messaging broke into the scene, I had the opportunity to work with cool new technologies like XWindows, HotJava, lynx, USGS Maps. During this time, I also wrote programs to detect cancer in mammogram images and worked on other medical devices.

I was also lucky enough to work at Intel while technologies like DDR, SSE and accelerated 3d video cards first started to enter the market. The guys making the hardware are a great resource to understand exactly how something works and how it should be used. I did a stint working on PCI Express (before it had a name, it was called 3GIO) and very high speed analog signaling.

I spent a lot of time in research fields, but one of my biggest passions has always been games.

I grew up in a large family with six brothers and sisters, so there was always someone to play with. We had a Tandy, which I’d use to type out games, and save them to cassette tapes. When we got our AtariST, I was blown away by games like Ultima 4 and Dungeon Master, which may have been my first true addiction. By the time the Nintendo and Super Nintendo came along, I was completely hooked. My brother James and I would play for hours, holding mini Street Fighter and Doctor Mario tournaments. When we’d break our controllers from playing so much, we’d take them apart, repair them, and get back to gaming.

For my senior project in college, I built a Simon Says game. The computer would issue a command, optionally prepending the ‘Simon Says’ phrase, and an avatar would act out the command.  A vision system would then evaluate if you did the command correctly. A group at Intel liked what I’d built and offered me a full-time job in the “Video As Input” and “New Ways To Play” groups at the Intel Architecture Labs. During my time there, I focused on leveraging the CPU to create new and exciting games that utlized a web camera — 11 years before the Kinect came out. I still own several computer vision patents.

In 2003, I made the leap from research and began creating games full-time. My first job was at ArenaNet – still a tiny company at the time. I put my knowledge of microprocessors to work and helped develop the engine and tools used for the Guild Wars series. Since then, I’ve built technology for games like Pirates of the Burning Sea and worked on several web-based MMOs written in ActionScript. Some people think there are more glamorous or flashy jobs in the industry, but to me, there’s nothing better than architecting the core systems for a game and putting together all the nuts-and-bolts that really make it work.

One day, my old boss Jeff wanted to get a beer and talk about life. He told me about the new company he was starting and about the Class3 and Class4 projects and then he asked me to join the team. I jumped at the opportunity to work with my friends on an awesome project and do what I do best.

It’s time to build something.

Zip

PS: If you just can’t get enough John and would like to know more about him, be sure to check out Jeff’s introduction.

I’ve been super busy building our zompocalyptic playground — towns, forests, and farms; rivers, mountains, and valleys; main streets, back alleys, highways, train tracks, and side roads. Places to climb, places to hide, places to fortify and make a stand. There’s no limit to how much attention and polish there is to add, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So when Emily came by and asked me to think about writing my intro, I wasn’t sure if I’d have the time to tackle it. Instead, I’d like to share some excerpts from my childhood journals with you.

Read on and you’ll see exactly why I love what I do…

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May 4, 1979

Today I know what I want to be when I grow up! With a box of crayons and some paper, my passion for drawing is ignited. In mere minutes I effortlessly scribble out a doodle that blows Nana’s mind. She exclaims that it is “absolutely the cutest one-eared bunny she’s ever seen”. It is proudly displayed on her very exclusive refrigerator gallery, right next to another prized masterpiece: her exquisite clipping of the Cathy cartoon that remarks on the social conundrums and personal conflict of chocolate addiction and dieting. You know the one.

Also to be noted: Nana is a seasoned haggler and has more cookies than she lets on. Request three next time and settle at two.

January 18, 1982

Today was my sixth birthday. I took the five dollar bill that Nana nestled in my card and cashed it in for quarters at the corner market. They installed a Donkey Kong arcade cabinet, and my battle against an unwavering, barrel-hurling pixel monkey and a human rival I only know as “A S S”  has begun. A S S maintains a commanding hold of the top five high scores, but I know that with persistence (and enough access to supplementary laundry quarters) I shall reign supreme. The shop keeper maintains a great level of support and encouragement for my inevitable victory.

The digital monkey is proving to be a cunning adversary — in the small number of times that I successfully ascend his forbidding tower in an attempt to rescue the maiden, she is abruptly snatched away and placed atop yet another precarious perch next to a seemingly endless supply of barrels. You damn dirty ape; she will be freed!

I need more quarters, and if I have to raid my sister’s piggy bank to achieve victory, I shall. Conquest without sacrifice is hollow.

Billy Jorgensen snapped my rainbow suspenders again today. Being inferior in stature I attempted to wound him emotionally by comparing his repulsive excuse for a face to a festering pile of baboon feces, but in my rage “doodie head” was all I could muster.

October 12, 1985

I have encountered (and now adore) the zombie genre! The adults have rented a video cassette tape, “Night of the Comet”. As an avid star gazer I insist on watching this film, but the oppressors once again enforce their barbaric curfew. My cunning triumphs as I sneak out of my holding cell and down to the television room where I stealthily part the door from the jamb. The narrow view is less than optimal, but sufficient to see the screen.

The film is ridiculous but intriguing. It opens my mind to the idea of a life of ultimate freedom — liberation from bedtimes, chores, and vegetables. A world filled with never-ending arcade visits and infinite pizza nights. I find myself playing through different scenarios in my head…the opportunities and the struggles. Also, seeing a zombie’s head get opened with a monkey wrench speaks to something twisted deep inside of me.

I fear the dog may have eaten Starscream’s left fist today. I cannot locate it anywhere. Tomorrow I shall retrace my steps.

July 13, 1987

I had a grand adventure today! First, I rode my bicycle down to the lake and did some sketches of the rock formations near the beach. When I was done, I ventured the long way back, making a stop at the marsh for some aquatic exploration. I was surprised to see that most of the tadpoles have their legs now. Continuing on my journey, I took the shortcut through the golf course to see what action the ball fields had to offer. Not much. Just a few of the older boys playing catch.

Finally making it to the library, I locked up my bicycle and took a stroll along the train tracks to the tunnel. I dared myself to go further in to the darkness until I lost my nerve. For my troubles, I came away with three more railroad spikes for the collection.

After my harrowing ordeal, I procured some sweets from the corner market to get the quick boost of energy I’d need for the trek to the arcade across town. Upon arrival, I realized that I had spent the last of my money on the Jolly Rancher power I had consumed to get there. Fortunately, throwing rocks at a bottle in the alley proved to be just as engaging.

There was still some time left before dark, so I rode out to the middle school I will begin attending in the fall. I discovered that the closed gate securing the inner yard after hours made a most excellent climbing surface, and I quickly found a way to the school’s roof. It was there that I found a place of unexpected tranquility and enough rubber balls to choke a Brontosaurus.

I had just begun to admire the setting sun when I was shaken from my private rooftop world by the shouting of a neighboring resident. I swiftly retreated down to my bike and bolted towards home, taking a few precautionary evasions to foil the pursuers I knew were there but could not see.

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Fast forward to years later —  I’ve been making games for over thirteen years now, from animating characters for 2D kids adventure games and 3D backgrounds on Backyard Sports, to helping build the amazing world for Guild Wars. I even had the chance to make a dam good word game along the way.

I’ve learned a lot over the years, but really I’m an only slightly matured version of the kid in the journals up above. You can probably imagine how thrilled I was to find a kick ass team who wants my help to build an open, engaging, and zombie-filled real-world environment. A world that people can run around in and explore like I used to, except instead of checking out tadpoles and venturing into dark train tunnels, they’re playing out their own survival scenarios. How awesome is that?

What could I say to a job that would let me utilize my skills and experience to make the exact video game that I’ve wanted to play every since I could hold a joystick?

Hell yes!

James

[If you just can't get enough James and would like to know more about him, be sure to check out Jeff's introduction.]