<!--
	Title: The Infinitely Improbable Doug Adams
	Author: Roe R. Adams III
	Source: Electronic Games, v3(4)
	Date: April 1985
	Transcription by Steve Derby
-->

<img class="float-left-wide" src="/public/img/articles/eg-the-infinitely-improbable-doug-adams/adams-close-up.png" alt="Close-up of Douglas Adams with his thumb up">
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<blockquote style="font-family: var(--article-sidebar), Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.25em; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
Hitch a Ride With Doug Adams, The Man With a Heart of Gold.
</blockquote>
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If you ever wake up one morning and find yourself in a strange room with
a splitting headache and no tea, where would you be? No, no not
there (but what a deliciously naughty though). Rather, you'd be about to spend
a wondrous sojourn inside the fertile mind of Douglas Adams, creator of **Hitchhiker's
Guide to the Galaxy**.

The four books in the *Hitchhiker* Trilogy (that anomaly is consistent with known
improbabilities) have generated such a devoted following worldwide that he books
have obtained major cult status. While many unenlighted people still respond,
"Who?" to a suggested viewing of a *Dr. Who* episode, the mention of *Hitchhiker's
Guide to the Galaxy* elicits such comments as "Now, *that's* funny!"; "What a
book!"; "Awesome"; "Isn't that the Carl Perkins show?"; "The movie was excellent";
"I hear that Douglas Adams is really Arthur Dent and that the book is an
autobiography"; and even a whispered "I hear the guide is for real, honest." All of
the above is true except for the part about the movie which wouldn't be released until
the turn of the millennium, and that bit about Douglas being Arthur Dent. Anyone
who knows Douglas Adams well, would know he was really Ford Prefect, the celestial
vagabond on an expense account.

Douglas Adams began only slightly humorous. So, how does one learn to be
really funny? Well, it pays to be born into an aristocracy noted for its unintentional
humor. Then go to an exclusive private school that requires everyone to wear
hilarious uniforms, and where they turn the worst students into lovely rocking
chairs. Finally, one should attend a world-famous University that specializes in classic
comic curriculums. No, it is not Harvard (good guess), or even Brown (which is
much closer to the truth), but is in fact, Cambridge. Ah, almost caught you there!
You were thinking, "But Harvard is in Cambridge." But this is the Cambridge
that is in Cambridge, which is to say, a town in England (a.k.a. Great Britain,
United Kingdom, Arthur's Place). The guidebooks refer to Cambridge as one of
the country's great inland ports, though perhaps the word "port" was a typo for
portal.

Another critical ingredient for becoming a successful comic writer is being born in
1952. That means that during the early '70's you'd be able to mix and match
wits with such luminaries and great straight men as Dudley Moore, John
Cleese, and Graham Chapman. Stir that all together and, while you do not get Hamlet
written by 500 monkeys, you do get *Monty Python* (and friends). Douglas Adams
qualified as an early friend and occasional collaborator on the hit television series.
Asked about his continuing relationship with Monty Python people, Adams
says, "Terry Jones and I have been great friends for a long time. We often have
lunch to discuss what we're going to do together and we always end up having a
great lunch."

Adams shamelessly traded in on his numerous *Python*-generated contacts within
the BBC (not an easy feat) for a job as one of the script editors for the
mega-series *Dr. Who*. Adams even got to script a couple of the more vaguely unforgettable
episodes. Following the good doctor through a few seasons of reincarnations
and personality changes taxed even Adams' hardy constitution.

Wanting to get a way from it all, and relax in a quiet environment, Adams hired
on as a bodyguard to an Arabian royal family. This low-key job only required him
to stand outside a door, bow occasionally, and duck hand grenades. Seems Adams
took this employment with his usual acute sense of timing -- the height of the OPEC
oil crisis and rabid anti-Arab sentiment. The only momento that Adams still has
from those fun-filled days is his heavy-duty, official Chuck Norris black leather
jacket. He is rarely seen in public without it, lending credence to the rumor that it is so
bulky because it is Ninja proof.

<figure>
	<img style="max-width: 100%;" src="/public/img/articles/eg-the-infinitely-improbable-doug-adams/adams-books.png" alt="Douglas Adams with his four "Hitchhikers" books: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Restaurant at the end of the Universe, Life, The Universe and Everything, and So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish">
	<figcaption style="text-align: center;"><strong>The four books of the famous <em>Hitchhiker's</em> trilogy: from nuts to fish.</strong></figcaption>
</figure>

Leaving this job for the exciting, globe-trotting career as a world famous, wealthy
author was easy. However, there were a few small in-between stages, like becoming
wealthy, and becoming famous. The globe-trotting part was fun and actually
led to the rest.

Traveling through Europe on a negative cash flow is not easy, but it can be done.
Carrying his trusty, much worn, copy of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to Europe,"
Adams went where few natives dared to tread, even off-season. One night in a
slightly drunken stupor, Adams found himself in Innsbruck, Austria, face up, looking
at the starry sky (the entire fate of the unknown universe would have been
changed if it had been cloudy that night). The thought randomly came to him: "Eureka!
It floats!" This was closely followed by two arias from Bartok's atonal opera,
*Bluebeard*. Then in thirty-foot high letters, tilted back and receding, came the thought
*Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*. Why not, no one had done it before! It's a
catchy title and think of all those galactic royalties if it goes into syndication.

Now the dilemma was what medium would maximize the audience? Since most
of the readers were going to be Pan-Galacticans, the best way to reach them
would obviously be through a radio telescope beamed across the universe and all
adjacent slums. Flush with triumph at this brilliant marketing idea, Adams hurried to
the BBC. Detoured en route by a six-year time warp (he had to write copy sometime),
he arrived at the BBC just when they were fresh out of telescopes. So, in typical
BBC practicality, they put the show on the radio and beamed it across the Thames to
adjacent slums.

The rest is history. Every Pan-Galactican living in disguise in London listened to the
show (1978 was the year of the supersaver El-Alien tours) and sent in tons of
incomprehensible fan mail. Since the BBC reportedly never actually reads a show's
mail but just weighs it, the program was declared a two-ton smash hit and renewed
for a second year.

A book was written based on the shows, certainly an excellent ecological recycling
of old scripts. This book was named *Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy* (might as
well run with your proven winner), and promptly sold out. Little realizing that the
first book had only been bought as a souvenir item by the departing Pan-Galacticans
at the end of their tour, Adams wrote a second novel: *The Restaurant at
the End of the Universe*. This book was appropriately placed in the culinary sections
of the bookstores. Julia Child even did a television show on how to properly prepare
a talking-steak dinner. Some dark rumors circulated afterward about the
simultaneous disappearance of her arch rival, the Galloping Gourmet. People,
however, rushed out to get the recipes from the first book, as the second book
continued after the appetizers.

The BBC decided that if it was good enough for the French Chef, then it was
good enough for British television. So, a BBC television mini-series was done on the
books patterned after the maxi-series, *The Forsythe Saga*. Belatedly realizing that
Adams Chronicles had already been usurped as a title, the BBC imaginatively
called the series *Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*. In true economical BBC fashion,
the television series was a condensed version of both books, thus saving the BBC
from paying out for two shows.

Now the initial book really started to hit some sales figures. It was also first reported
being smuggled into the United States via a case of Snickers. The desperate smugglers
were thus able to bypass the numerous federal agencies on guard for illegal British
humor.

<figure class="float-right">
	<img src="/public/img/articles/eg-the-infinitely-improbable-doug-adams/steve-meretzky.jpg" alt="Steve Meretzky head shot">
	<figcaption style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">Steve Meretzky, co-perpetrator with Douglas Adams of the electronic version of the <em>Hitchhiker's Guide</em>.</figcaption>
</figure>

Alas, the government's worst fears were confirmed when the highly contagious
*Hitchhiker* proceeded to sweep the ranks of science fiction readers in the United
States. The condition reached epidemic proportions when British press copies of
the third book, *Life, the Universe, and Everything*, flowed over the borders from
Canada. Faced with the prospects of detoxifying thousands of rabid fans, the government
capitulated and declared Douglas Adams a schedule-one uncontrollable British humorist.

Official U.S. versions of Adams' books now appeared everywhere to rave reviews.
Numerous radio stations broadcast the old shows. Channel 2 in Boston, the
most avant-garde of the nation's PBS stations, even dared to show the highly
subversive BBC television series.

When the third book was released in the United States, *Life, the Universe and
Everything* was immediately recognized as heavy-duty philosophy. Therefore it was
put on bookstore shelves right next to Carlos Castanada's latest book: *The Teachings
of Ron Don: The Yankee Way to Knowledge*. Adams' third book immediately became
the darling of the coffee table set. They, in turn, had to rush out and buy the
first two books since the third one made no sense without reading the others first
(Now that is really profound.)

Douglas Adams was (and is) an international celebrity. His U.S. tour was a
great success as he was lionized from coast to coast. So delighted was he with the
overbearing American hospitality, tedious talk shows, and unending dinner speeches
that he titled his fourth (and supposedly final) *Hitchhiker* book, *So Long and
Thanks for All the Fish*.

What to do next? Let's see...books, records (of the radio shows), television, stage
play (Off-Off-Off-Broadway. Liverpool perhaps, or maybe it was the Orkneys),
even the obligatory movie contract. "Say", said Adams on night, in a not-so-drunken
stupor, "How about a computer game version!" (The difference between doing a
game or a book, Adams says, is that "A game is fun. A book is staring at a piece of
paper until your forehead bleeds."

<div style="display: flex; border-top: 2px solid; border-bottom: 2px solid;">
	<img class="float-left-narrow" src="/public/img/articles/eg-the-infinitely-improbable-doug-adams/adams-headshot.png" alt="Douglas Adams Head Shot">
	<blockquote style="font-family: var(--article-sidebar), Arial, sans-serif, font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-size: 1.25em;">
		"I really feel the need to branch out into fresh areas and clear my head from Hitchhiker."
	</blockquote>
</div>

A quick marketing survey showed him that a small adventure game company in
Cambridge, MA (note the auspicious location, heavy Karmic influences, and Freudian
overtones) named Infocom owned the entire computer text adventure field. In
fact, Douglas' first introduction to Infocom was through playing **Suspended**, one of
the company's most mind-boggling games. (Yes, he solved it.) It occured to
him that here was a company with minds as devious and eccentric as his own. He
decided to approach them about *Hitchhiker's*. Little did Adams realize that Infocom
was actually only leasing the highly lucrative field from the Gnome of Zurich. In fact,
a check with the Frobozz Chamber of Commerce would have revealed that Infocom
was in fact a front for a vast Underground Empire. Many an adventure
game player had disappeared forever into its clutches; their jobs, families, and sanity
ensnared by slavering Grues. The few that escaped usually wandered around saying
"Hello, sailor," of "Frotz," and carrying a strangely familiar lamp. The Chaucer of
British humor was about to meet the dreaded Masters of the Purple Prose.

Initial contact was made ethereally through a transoceanic computer bulletin
board. Further discussions were held in a variety of British pubs. It is even money
that one of them must have been The White Hart in London; so appropriate with
Arthur C. Clarke's personal table in the far corner, right next to the cheese sandwiches.
Another creative locale was Huntsham Court, a hotel in the village of Huntsham,
near Tiverton, Devon. Adams wrote *So Long and Thanks for all the Fish* there,
and a lot of the electronic version of *Hitchhiker's* as well. He also bough part of
the establishment. How did that come about? "One night after a few drinks,"
says Adams, "it seemed like a good idea."

Adams insisted on only dealing with the game designer who had the greatest stature
in Infocom. Steve Meretzky, at 6'4" was taller than Marc Blank, so he was drafted.

Meretzky was one of Infocom's early playtesters, and suffered from a terminal
case of "Boy, game design is a snap. Why, even I could do a better job in a few weeks
than...." So, being highly sadistic, Infocom gave Meretzky a chance to design a game.
Somehow the few weeks evolved into over a year, but much to everyone's amazement
(except Meretzky's), the game was fantastic. Who can forget Floy's tragic death?
**Planetfall** earned Infocom a whole shelf full of Best Game awards for that year.

Even with Meretzky's heavy credentials in computer game design (*Planetfall* and
**Sorcerer**, another stellar scenario), he found it difficult to see eye-to-eye with
Adams on every aspect of the game design. (The rumor is that Adams' real height
is being kept a media secret in the U.S., because of his literary agent's fears that
Adams will be shanghied by the Boston Celtics and never write again. He admits to
6'5".)

Luckily for computer adventure fans, the design did not become a battle of the
Giants. Mutual respect was earned by the exchange of outrageous jokes, a similar
fondness for wearing bizarre costumes (you must see Meretzky in his gorilla suit at
some party), and sporting eye-blinding clothing. Adams is infamous for his day-glo
ties that add new meaning to the phrase Contact High. Meretzky counters
that with a collection of Dali-like Hawaiian floral sport shirts. These are the same shirts
made famous by Americans traveling overseas in the 50's and 60's before the Geneva
Convention ban on visual warfare.

<figure class="float-right">
	<img src="/public/img/articles/eg-the-infinitely-improbable-doug-adams/adams-sitting.jpg" alt="A filler photo of Douglas Adams sitting">
	<figcaption style="text-align: center; font-size: 1.25em; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: var(--article-sidebar), Arial, sans-serif;">
		"The game design is basically pear-shaped. After the player gets comfortable running around the narrow neck at the beginning, the bottom drops out."
	</figcaption>
</figure>

The peril-sensitive sunglasses that were developed for the computer game are
actual replicas of those worn by staff members who had to sit in on lengthy
conferences when both Meretzky and Adams were present. In fact, almost all the goodies
enclosed with the game originally had other uses: The fluff was really
used for earplugs to deaden the impact of the puns. The official destruct orders were
actually coded hit contracts on Adams and Meretzky put out by the bedraggled
playtesters. The baggy containing the microscopic space fleet looks suspiciously
like the bag provided by the airlines in each seat for heavy flying. The sales brochure is
really Adams' dummy Swiss company that sells digital watches on late night
television (remember the Gnome of Zurich). The Don't Panic button is, of
course, the Unimportant Red Button (can you find the Important Green Button in the
packet before the Earth blows up?)

The only thing in the game package that is what it seems to be is the "No Tea."
Historicans have long claimed that the entire expansion of the British Empire was
based on the search for a real cup of tea. To date, they have only found Advanced
Substitute Tea, which explains the fall of the Pound, the Falklands, the coal mine strike,
and Stonehenge.

A few people in the Himalayas have written in and asked whether or not they
could enjoy playing the computer game without having touched the books, seen
the TV shows, felt the play, heard the records, or smelt a computer overheating
from twelve hours of obsessive playing. To which Adams responded, "42!"

He further noted, "The game design is essentially pear-shaped. After the beginning
player gets comfortable running around the narrow neck at the beginning,
the bottom drops out." What an understatement! With the babel fish problem,
the game shifts into really high gear. Many a seasoned player has been stumped
here for hours. It does not help that *Hitchhiker's* is, in Adams' words, "the only
game that deliberately lies to you."

Adams, however, has taken pity on those less brilliant and warped -- over
Meretzky's pleas to "let them suffer." For the first time, an Infocom game actually
has hints to solving some of the puzzles built right into the game itself. Admittedly,
they are mostly obscure, but nonetheless actually there. A perceptive adventurer will
spot the clues quickly, but even the most dilettante player can grasp them, if they
read all the text very carefully, and can visualize the entire floorplan of a typical
Vogan space ship (copies of the floorplans are available from the traveling bookmobile
run by Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged).

The game ricochets all across the universe in a bewildering kaleidoscope of
improbable pasts, presents, and futures. The scenario design resembles a galactic pinball
game. Watch out for the Black Hole or you may never get out again, and remember to
be careful what you say and do. In Adams's universe causality is paramount. A stone
thrown here blows up planets over there.

Meretzky and Adams have designed Infocom's *Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*
as really an artificial intelligence test. They will find out just how artificial your
intelligence really is. Try to deal with entire ship ship equipped with Sirius Cybernetics
Corporation devices, whose motto is Share and Enjoy. This is usually considered
sufficient cause through the galaxy for immediate self-destruction in order to save
your sanity. See how good you are at cheering up Marvin, who is a manic-depressive
robot. Need to open the screening door? Easy, just show it a little bit of intelligence.
The clue to salvation may just be the "thing" your Aunt gave you that you can not
get rid of no matter how hard you try. Then again, maybe not. At
the bottom of Adams's pear is the jammed hatch puzzle, This puzzle will grow on you
until it takes over your mind. Beware the Jabberwocks!

Now that Adams has conquered this new medium (the game is already in the
top ten on the overall charts), what are his plans? Will he do *Son of Hitchhiker*, or
*Hitchhiker, Parts II-XXV*? "No," says Adams, "I really feel the need to branch
out into fresh areas and clear my head from *Hitchhiker*. I certainly have enjoyed working
with Infocom and would very much like to do another adventure game, but on a
different topic." Adams compares adventure games to movie-making in the early
1900's: "It's a real novelty medium and only the people doing them really know
how great they are."

Sitting across the breakfast table from Meretzky and Adams is difficult indeed,
even wearing the peril-sensitive sunglasses. The air between them seems to shimmer
and blur. At times they bear a startling resemblance to that maestro of
self-expediency, Zaphod Beeblebrox. The two heads seem to share the same body. Perhaps
Zaphod is the end result of the cloned collaboration.

"Remember," says Adams, leaning over like a conspirator while chuckling diabolically,
"To *share* the real feeling of the game, *enjoy* everything."

So, now that you have stayed up all night and have solved six impossible puzzles
this morning, why not round it off with breakfast at Milliway's. Go ahead. If you
have just finished this computer adventure game, you have definitely earned it!
