Friday, February 21, 2020

Game #6: Canyon Climber (1982)

Background

  • Developer: Tim Ferris
  • Publisher: Datasoft
  • Debut: 1982
  • Platform: TRS-80 (Model-I)
  • Ports: Apple II, Atari 8-bit PC, PC-6001

Trash ‘70s

So far, our trek through the primordial ooze of platform games has taken us through arcades, considered dens of iniquity by parents and educators in the early 1980s. A different type of gaming technology, the personal computer, had emerged a few years earlier. Parents were less fussed over their kids whiling away time on the computer, and that came down to marketing.

Manufacturers billed computers as productivity machines. Filling out spreadsheets, balancing your checkbook, writing memos and reports--these and other constructive tasks were the raison d'etre for the PC. Of course, not just anyone could afford a computer. Just because computers had shrunk from gymnasium-consuming behemoths to desktop-sized boxes didn't mean most families could afford them. 
Then there was the problem of accessibility. The earliest PCs were sold as do-it-yourself kits composed of circuit boards and wires. We were still far out from the days when one could pop into an electronics store, buy a computer off the shelf, take it home, and plug and play. The dawn of readymade computers occurred in 1977, with the arrival of the holy "Trinity" of PCs.
Venerable publication Byte magazine christened the Apple II, Commodore PET, and TRS-80 Model I the "Trinity" of personal computing, and with good cause. All three arrived in stores in '77. All three came in pre-built forms, though you could purchase kits if you were savvy enough to piece them together yourself. Most importantly, all three were relatively affordable.
The Commodore PET, short for Personal Electronic Transactor, debuted in January '77, designating it the leader of the Trinity. For only $795, customers got a 1-megahertz (MHz) processor, between 4 and 96 kilobytes (K) of memory, and a cassette tape deck for storage. Another crucial inclusion was Commodore BASIC 1.0, a programming language one could use to write one's own software. This was important because PC software was not available in stores right away. If you wanted to play a game or balance your checkbook, you needed to write the code to accomplish those ends yourself.

Apple delivered the Apple II that June. The priciest of the Trinity, it ran $1,298 (or $5,476 in 2019 dollars) but included 4K of RAM and a processor that clocked just over 1 MHz. What made the Apple II special was the empty bays, or ports, under its hood. Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak was a hacker at heart. He predicted that savvy users would want to expand the capabilities of their Apple II over time, so he fitted the motherboard with slots where users could install extra peripherals such as cards to connect printers and modems, as well as additional RAM to run more demanding software.
Bringing up the rear was the TRS-80, retroactively named the TRS-80 Model I after its maker, Tandy RadioShack, released upgraded models to keep up with Commodore and Apple. The comparatively low price of $599 got you a 1.774 MHz processor and 4K of RAM. 
A discussion of the early history of PCs is relevant to our examination of platformers. Arcade games were more advanced: better graphics, better sound, better controls. That's great, but few people could afford to pay thousands of dollars for an arcade cabinet that only played a single game, and fewer had the technical skill to crack open the cabinet and swap out the circuits that contained game code if they wanted to play something else.
Though none of the "Trinity" were billed as gaming devices, they could be; all one needed was a little bit of cash, the patience to learn a programming language, and an idea for a game--or, better yet, a proven idea that one could replicate. Although the Apple II became the most successful of the Trinity, the TRS-80 got a head start due to its price. By 1980, RadioShack had sold more than three times as many computers as Apple and Commodore. Many game developers such as Broderbund co-founder Doug Carlston got their start writing games on the TRS, which could only be found in RadioShack outlets. (Author's Note: Readers interested in more about the Trinity, and about the Apple II specifically, should look into my book Break Out: How the Apple II Launched the PC Gaming Revolution, published in hardcover by Schiffer Publishing in 2017.)
The TRS-80's lower cost of entry came at a price. RadioShack outfitted the computer with an Expansion Interface so users could connect more hardware, but the material was a bit shoddy. This led to adopters (somewhat affectionately) referring to the computer as the "Trash-80." But it was a starting point, and an affordable one, for developers such as Tim Ferris, who became known for creating Canyon Climber, the first platformer native to a personal computer.

My First Platformer

Released in 1982, Canyon Climber is notable for being the first platform game developed for a home system at the outset, rather than ported from an arcade title. Speaking of arcades, Ferris wears his inspiration from Donkey Kong on his sleeve. Canyon Climber takes place on three separate, single-screen stages, each with unique obstacles. You play a climber intent on scaling the Grand Canyon, or in design terms, reaching the top of all three stages by running, jumping, and climbing. 
That Ferris cribbed from Donkey Kong makes perfect sense. Remember, these were the early days of game development. It was easier to copy a game someone else had already made as a means of learning how to write code than it was to juggle the demanding tasks of learning a new language and devising a brand-new, fun design. There is a pitfall to copying a great game, though.
In my review of Kangaroo, I included a quote from Diablo co-creator Max Schaefer that said, in effect, clones of popular games often pay attention to the wrong details of the game their creators are copying. Diablo clones, or action-RPGs, tend to focus on loot and skill systems, but the beating heart of Diablo is the feedback from and simplicity of its click-driven interface. If Diablo had not been easy to pick up, and satisfying to interact with, few players would have bothered playing long enough to reach the game's later levels where the best loot is found.
Tim Ferris's Canyon Climber borrowed running, jumping, and climbing from Donkey Kong, but it missed subtle details and systems that made Nintendo's platformer the gold standard at this point in the genre's history. The game takes place on three distinct, single-screen stages. The first, called the Crevasse, features five platforms connected by ladders, each with a bridge that must be detonated for… reasons. The second, Indian Hills, takes place on another set of platforms strung together by ladders, with "Indians" (the very-non-politically-correct term used in the game manual) who shoot arrows at you as you traverse their platforms. Finally, Eagle Cliffs asks you to run and jump to the top of the stage while rocks dropped by eagles who have nothing better to do than make your ascent miserable.

In the Crevasse, you must set dynamite to both sides of each bridge and then press the plunger at the top to blow them up. You set the dynamite by running over each end of the bridge. Simple enough, right? Except there are goats running back and forth across each platform, and they have a nasty habit of changing directions at random. I would often wait for a goat to draw near and then jump over it, only for it to immediately turn around and charge into my back, costing me a life. A similar problem afflicts stage three, the Crevasse. Eagles fly overhead and drop rocks, but there's no pattern to when those rocks fall.
Neither behavior seemed deliberate. Sometimes goats would turn around and chase me after I'd leaped over them. Sometimes rocks would fall right in front of me, or behind me, or directly above me. Both behaviors seem to be determined by random-number generation. These arbitrary shifts didn't happen often enough to ruin my enjoyment of the stages in which they occur, but that doesn't make them less frustrating.
The larger issue here is that Canyon Climber is extremely simple. The Native Americans on stage two stand in the same places and fire arrows at the same rate. All you have to do is run at them and jump over arrows until you reach the ladder to the next platform. Climb up, rinse and repeat until you reach the top of the stage. You can pick up shields to deflect arrows for a limited time, but you can't jump or climb while holding a shield, so you're left standing around waiting for their protection to wear off so you can keep playing. Really, shields aren't worth the singular benefit they provide. Arrows fly toward you at the same rate, and lose altitude as they travel, so you're better off jumping over them and ignoring the shields. 
As for the random nature of the goats' charge and the placement of falling rocks, there's little you can do about either of them. If a goat chooses to turn around and gore you from behind, well, that's that. Rocks are easier to handle; just wait until the path ahead is clear and time your jumps over gaps. 
Even factoring in randomness, you should complete Canyon Climber in five to 10 minutes your first time through. Beating the game sends you back to the first stage to do it all over again. The game doesn't seem to raise its difficulty level on repeat cycles, so there's no reason to play the game more than once. In fact, there's just not much to Canyon Climber that makes it memorable.


That's not entirely a bad thing. Canyon Climber could be viewed as a fun if overly simple introduction to platform games for younger players. Also, it's worth keeping in mind that Ferris and every other game developer were new to making games at this period of the industry. Games database mobygames.com lists Canyon Climber as Ferris's first published title. Perhaps he made the best game he was capable of at the time.
However, treating Canyon Climber as the "See Spot Run" of platformers is a weak defense. Donkey Kong starts off easy, and is a much better game. Moreover, that difficulty scales with each stage as well as on repeat playthroughs. It also doesn't introduce much if any randomness to throw artificial difficulty at you. The barrels rolling down the slanted ramps of stage one never abruptly change directions. Just watch them and either climb a ladder out of their path, or time your jump over them.

That's one of the masterful subtleties of the game's design. Donkey Kong works for myriad reasons; among them is the surge of satisfaction that hits you after you pull off any maneuver. It could be as uncomplicated as hopping over a single barrel, or as involved as completing a stage by the skin of Mario's teeth. The game rewards you for pulling off feats great and small by instilling you with pride in and excitement for your skill. To have a barrel or fireball randomly change directions and roll over you, or to have the big Kong himself rain obstacles down in an arbitrary fashion, would suck the thrill out of your victories.
Then there's DK's masterful scalability. Each stage introduces new challenges--slight changes in paths to give players more choice in how they make their way up to Pauline, new mechanics such as lifts and rivets that must be removed, creating gaps that strand enemies on one side of a platform but create another hazard for players to manage--but retain the fundamental lessons taught in the first stage. When you're starting out with the game, you want to play every stage over and over because there's always something new to learn or try. When you come back to the game as a veteran, you want to survive longer than you did the previous time, perfecting your skills and setting new personal records (or attempting to shatter someone else's, as seen in the popular gaming documentary The King of Kong).
All this is to say that Canyon Climber is not a bad game. Far from it. The advent of personal computing and affordability of the TRS-80 gave Tim Ferris and other aspiring creators the means to make games on their own terms. That's huge. And in fairness, while Atari's landmark VCS/2600 console was making its way into homes the same year the "Trinity" debuted, most of its first wave of games were as facile and crude as Canyon Climber. All that aside, even neophytes will crave more than Canyon Climber can give them.


Score

  • Graphics: 2/5. Blocky stick figures like something from the Atari VCS, but colorful, and you can tell what each object is supposed to be.
  • Gameplay: 2/5. When accessibility goes too far, you get games like Canyon Climber. The randomness of certain hazards is aggravating, but it does break up the tedium of playing.
  • Sound: 2/5. Remixes of classical music that sound how that music should sound, given the hardware limitations of the day. Adds or detracts nothing from the experience.
  • Overall: 2/5. A decent introduction to platforming, but not worth more than a single playthrough.

Ranking

This list is subjective based on my experiences. I also can't promise I'll expand this ranking to include every platformer ever made. It may be simpler, and fairer, to rank platformers within the same "generation" of releases. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Without further ado, here are my rankings as of this entry. Click a game's title to read its review.
*I thought I should explain why Crazy Climbers has occupied the last slot in my rankings since I debuted my little chart a few entries/chapters ago. Crazy Climbers is a fine game, but it's not really a platformer. I don't foresee it moving from this spot unless a terrible game comes along and gives it a boost.

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