 Legends are told of E.T. The Extraterrestrial for the Atari 2600. E.T., so the stories say, is the worst game ever made. The game that single-handedly destroyed Atari and ushered in the great video game market crash of 1983. There are rumours that, embarrassed by the catastrophic failure of E.T., Atari bosses sanctioned a secret, literal cover-up. Millions of copies of the game were driven out into the New Mexico Desert, where they were thrown into an enormous pit, covered in concrete, and buried deep within the ground. So great was the failure of this game, so terrible was its influence on the video game industry that it was sealed away, never to return. Like all good legends, these rumours contain grains of truth, but they do not tell the full story. The tale of E.T. is one of corporate greed and foolishness, but also of passion, hard work, creativity, and deep, abiding nostalgic love. While many people dismiss E.T. the Extraterrestrial offhand as the worst game ever made, its story is far more nuanced than critics realise. This tale even has, believe it or not, a happy ending. When Howard Scott Warshaw first arrived to work at Atari, he was blown away. Producing arcade cabinets, the company had made a huge amount of money in a very short amount of time, and it was clear that they were spending it on giving their employees the best quality of life possible. Atari's key game developers were treated like rock stars. Given the freedom to act as they felt, as they relaxed in the company hot tub, drank beer, and partied all night long. The Atari bosses of the time even considered their employees' parties to be one of the best recruitment tools they had at their disposal. All they needed to do was convince a prospective programmer to attend their happy-go-lucky events, and they'd be hooked. What shy computer nerd could resist the appeal of a culture where programming skills made you popular? Where beautiful people would hang on your every word during enormous, crazy parties that celebrated scientific and technological achievement? So naturally, from the first moment Howard began his career at Atari, he was hooked. This was the lifestyle for him. He was going to do everything in his power to help the company grow and grow. Howard started by eyeing up an arcade game called Star Castle, where the player must shoot a hole in the defences of an enemy stronghold before being destroyed by cannon fire. Howard wasn't particularly confident this game was going to be a hit, but he saw its potential. Just a week after beginning work at Atari, and eager to please his bosses, he proposed that he could make a tweaked version of the game for home console but would surpass the original. Howard got approval for his project, and he began thinking really hard about how to fix the core formula of the game. Inspired to try something very different, he began experimenting with the idea of giving the game a genuine story, something that was uncommon at the time. Howard stayed up all night, bashing out a rich narrative for the game. It was very far removed from the flimsy premise of Star Castle, and it featured insect aliens and a long running intergalactic war that players could get invested in. As a subtle nod to his boss, then Atari CEO Ray Kazar, Howard named the alien species in his game, the Yaw, flipping the letters of Ray backwards. The Yaw hailed from the planet Razak, which came from flipping Ray Kazar's surname. Howard even, unbeknownst to his employers, slipped in a little easter egg within the game. If players were in the right part of the screen at the right time, they'd see the letters HSW, WSH appear. These were Howard's initials, both forward and then backward, his own little way of pointing to the true meaning of the name of the Yaw aliens. And so the game, now retitled Yaw's revenge, hit store shelves. It was a phenomenal hit, selling millions of copies, and becoming the best selling Atari 2600 game that was based on an original property. Howard was on top of the world, and his bosses couldn't be more pleased with his work. They then assigned him one of their most important games to see if he could recreate this magic. Atari had a fantastic opportunity on its hands. They had a license to produce a video game based on Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark. This was during the first early years of video game tie-ins for movies, and Atari wanted to do the game right. Before Howard could be given the go-ahead to work on the game though, he needed approval from the film's director himself. So, packing a bag, Howard was flown out to Hollywood to meet with Steven Spielberg himself in order to get permission to make the game. Steven approved, and Howard was set to work. He really wanted the game to succeed, but he also wanted to have fun with it, so he decided to get into character. Howard began wearing a fedora, and carrying a bull whip around while he was at work. The noise when he cracked the whip sounded like a gunshot, and he'd use it to sneak up on people and scare them, particularly if he saw anyone snooping around that looked like they didn't belong. When the game was released, Atari was thrilled. Howard had done it again, as Raiders of the Lost Ark went on to sell millions of copies, just like Yars Revenge. The next game that was offered to Howard, though, was going to be rather different. Atari had procured the license to make a game based on Steven Spielberg's newest movie, E.T. The Extraterrestrial. This license hadn't been cheap, but Atari's heads were confident that this game would be a best seller no matter what. The challenge was getting the game out the door in time for the lucrative holiday season. Atari envisioned a scenario where millions of kids around the world all opened up a copy of E.T. for the Atari 2600 on Christmas morning, and this could only be achieved if the game could hit a very, very tight deadline. So Ray Khazar called Howard on the phone and asked if he could create E.T. in just five weeks. This was far from the only rushed project that Atari was working on at the time, but it was certainly the most high-profile game, and it needed to be done fast. Howard, unaware of just what he was getting himself into, said, Absolutely, yes I can. Howard didn't know it yet, but he'd just signed on for the greatest challenge of his career, one that would live in infamy for decades to come. Things had to move quickly to get E.T. ready for launch. Just two days after Howard signed on to create the game, he was on a plane to meet with Steven Spielberg yet again to beg for his permission to create the game. By this point, Steven trusted Howard wholeheartedly and was enthusiastic to see the developer work his magic yet again. That said, he wasn't entirely sold on Howard's vision for the title. Howard wanted to do something special with E.T. He wanted to create a vast open world game with a menagerie of colourful characters that really spoke to the heart of the movie and its plot. Steven wasn't sure, and instead asked, Couldn't you do something more like Pac-Man? Howard was dumbfounded. He couldn't simply rip off another game. His job was to innovate, to push boundaries, and create something fresh and original. He wanted to say, Well gee Steven, couldn't you make something more like the day the earth stood still, but he was able to hold his tongue. Instead, he pointed out that E.T. was a breakthrough movie, so it deserved a breakthrough game that did more than just copy ideas from other titles. Ultimately, Steven was convinced to let Howard make the game he wanted to make. Howard had his green light, and it was time to start working. Five weeks was not a lot of time. Most of Atari's games took around six months to complete, so Howard had to work fast, staying long into the night at his computer as he bashed out lines and lines of code. Eventually, Howard had a development system installed within his house, so that he was never very far away from his desk. A member of Atari's staff had to be assigned to check in on Howard periodically and make sure that he was eating. If he ran out of steam, the project would all be for naught. Despite the ridiculously tight production schedule, Howard refused to sacrifice quality where he could avoid it. He even took the time to code in an easter egg that would make sprites from Yar's Revenge and Raiders of the Lost Ark appear on screen as tiny references to his previous work. Howard threw himself wholeheartedly into his work, and finally, after five long weeks, he completed his game. He was pleased with the results, and so was Steven Spielberg, who played the game, raved about its triumphs, and called Howard a genius for creating such an impressive spectacle. As the game hit store shelves, Steven was eager to promote it far and wide. Atari succeeded in their goals of getting the game out in time for Christmas, and E.T. went on to sell millions of copies. Everything seemed to be going well. Then, Howard had some strange conversations at work. People would approach him, telling him that they wanted him to know that they were really impressed with his work on E.T., and that it was incredible that he'd managed so much in such a short time. They didn't blame him. It wasn't his fault. Howard was confused. What exactly were they talking about? What wasn't his fault? Then, he heard the news. E.T. had sold well, but it hadn't sold the entire five million units that Atari had produced. What's more, many stores were reporting returns, as customers demanded a refund for a game that was clearly unfinished. Howard took another look at his game, and conceded that, yes, there were flaws. It was too easy for the player to become disoriented, and the game wasn't organised in such a way as to make traversal fun and engaging. In his rush to programme the title, Howard hadn't had time to sit back and really look at what he was doing. It was hardly a surprise that the game felt a little rushed, and he could see why so many people had a problem with his work. Atari was going through a rough patch at the time. E.T. was far from the only game that had been overproduced and underdeveloped, as the company's higher-ups had been flooding the market with cartridges that contained subpar rushed games. The company suffered massive losses, and over a period of a few months, 80% of Atari's staff were laid off. Howard himself also left the company, bidding farewell to the most engaging, creatively fulfilling workplace he'd ever known. He wasn't sure what to do next, and for many years, he drifted between jobs. He tried his hand at selling real estate, but that wasn't a good fit for him. He attempted to return to the tech sector, but things just weren't the same. Eventually, though, Howard found hope. He dragged himself out of a pit of despair, and decided to entirely retrain as a psychotherapist. Here he found job satisfaction once again, as he felt that he was doing something productive and worthwhile to help people. But this isn't the end of the story. As internet gaming culture grew, many Atari enthusiasts began debating and dissecting the games of their childhood, especially titles that almost everybody had owned, or at least played, such as E.T. The Extraterrestrial. E.T. became a common staple on lists of the worst games ever made, as fans reveled in just how horrendous it was to play. Despite this, there were always apologists who argued that there really was something special in the game, if you were willing to look past its myriad imperfections. Then, the rumors started to spread. This game was so bad that Atari had buried all remaining copies in the middle of the desert, hoping that they would never be found. For years, gamers speculated about where these cartridges might be hiding, if they really existed at all. Many people dreamed about what it would be like to uncover them, and find the holy grail of video game lore. It was inevitable that someone would one day try. A team of enthusiasts got together, tracked down the location of Atari's dump site, and began putting together a plan to excavate a piece of gaming history. The team proposed an archaeological dig at a landfill in Alamogordo, New Mexico. The dig became an event, as it was publicized far and wide that finally someone was going to try and find the lost cartridges. As part of a documentary on the game, Howard was invited to attend the dig and see for himself what had become of his work. As he approached the dig site, Howard's jaw dropped. There were hundreds of eager gamers gathered to witness the event. Many had driven across the entire country in order to witness this momentous occasion. Howard chatted with many of his biggest fans, eager gamers who had grown up playing his titles and who were thrilled at the chance to meet him. Whether they were there because of the infamy of E.T., or out of a genuine love for Howard's games and Atari in general, one thing was clear. Howard had made an impact in these people's lives. Howard choked up as he thought about what was unfolding, and about just how special this moment was. People really genuinely cared about his work, and he had inadvertently become a folk hero of sorts. While the game's industry as a whole had ignored his achievements for years, these fans showed him just how much his work meant to people. Many E.T. cartridges were eventually dug out of the ground, along with many other Atari products at the time. It seemed that the rumors were half true. Atari had dumped a lot of old stock, but they hadn't hidden millions of copies of a game out of embarrassment or fear. Howard was so happy. He'd thought that the gaming world had entirely forgotten him, and that his achievements had been lost to time. As it turned out, an obscure project that he bashed out in five weeks had gone on to make a huge impact on gaming culture, with gamers all over the world regularly talking about his work. Some people might call E.T. the extraterrestrial a failure, but it wasn't a failure to Howard. He'd made something noteworthy, and in his mind, this game would always be a phenomenal success. The moral of the story is that rumors aren't always completely true. Some people maintain that E.T. the extraterrestrial is the worst game ever made, and they're entitled to their opinion. But this is far from a universal truth. In many ways, E.T. has become celebrated because of its rushed design. Gamers love to hate things, and there's a certain cathartic joy from being able to rail against an unpopular title. Among the many detractors for this game, there are also supporters, fans who are willing to drive through the night for a chance to meet their hero, and to witness video game history being unearthed. Howard Scott-Warshall's opinion on E.T. the extraterrestrial might be hard to understand. His optimism in the face of so much negativity shows that not every success has to come from receiving universal praise and recognition. Howard put everything he had into E.T., and created a game under an incredibly tight deadline that by all rights should have been impossible. The result wasn't perfect, but he was proud of his work. There's no denying that this game is influential, and while it will likely forever be remembered as the worst game ever made, it will also never disappear from public consciousness. Art isn't always enjoyable. What matters most is that it leaves an impact on people, and E.T. has certainly done that, just because something is widely considered a failure. It doesn't mean that you should take this at face value. Sometimes, true joy can be found hiding in the midst of a big mistake.