How video games made me a marketing copywriter

Unofficially, my career as a marketing copywriter started in 1980 when I was 10.

Then, as now, I loved video games. I loved the technology—cool-looking plastic boxes that pumped colorful graphics to the TV. I loved the games—the universes they created and the stories they told.

And I loved the marketing. Oh, God, the marketing.

I tell you, no other industry is as crazy-competitive—or as just plain crazy—from a marketing standpoint.

Oh, Apple may have great ads. Beautiful ads. Artful, even.

But the video game industry? It’s explosive all-out war at the speed of blazing lasers.

Even in those days, the magazine ads, brochures, and TV commercials were bursting with great copy and graphic design. I spent almost as much time staring at the marketing materials as I did playing the games.

Here are some classic video game magazine ads from the day:

Just seeing them again gives me goosebumps.

The state of the games market in 1980

Atari was the market leader in those days. Its console, the Video Computer System (VCS), was already an icon. It seemed everyone owned one. Along with a generous advertising budget, the console’s popularity was fueled by the company’s coin-operated arcade division, which provided hit game after hit game for adaptation to the home.

Atari’s major competitor was Mattel’s Intellivision, a more technically advanced (and at $299, $100 more expensive) console. With TV commercials featuring urbane American author George Plimpton, the system made a name for itself with superior graphics and more true-to-life sports games. Compared to its rivals, it was indeed “intelligent television.”

Pulling up third place in the market was the console I owned: the Magnavox Odyssey². Odyssey’s major differentiator was an alphanumeric keyboard. Some games included colorful film overlays made to be placed on the flat membrane surface. These added depth and sophistication to strategy and role-playing games. An oft-used tagline for the Odyssey² was: “The keyboard is the key to greater challenge.”

Fighting the console wars

Home video games have always inspired a fierce brand loyalty among people who play them, particularly boys and young men. Many a battle is fought each day in the schoolyard and workplace as these brave console warriors argue the superiority of their preferred plastic boxes.

At age 10, I was not immune to this phenomenon. I too wanted my console to be popular. After all, Odyssey had good games. Maybe not hit arcade titles like Pac-Man or Asteroids or Centipede, but still. The joystick was more comfortable and accurate than the Atari. And the keyboard was a huge advantage. It opened up all kinds of possibilities that weren’t practical or even possible on other systems.

So my young mind began to work on the challenge—how could Odyssey topple the market leaders and ultimately get the recognition it deserved?

Marketing warfare

It didn’t take a grown-up to see that Odyssey was lacking in advertising. Atari and Intellivision ads were ubiquitous in print and on TV. The two industry heavyweights exchanged blows daily on television, with ads reaching a fever pitch every winter holiday.

So that’s where I started.

I wrote and drew my ads for the Odyssey and its games in colored chalk on a giant green chalkboard. I took exquisite pleasure in replicating the ascending-like-fire Odyssey² logo, the console’s silver-and-black hardware design, and game characters such as K.C. Munchkin (a Pac-Man-like character that ate dots in a maze).

I drew up battle plans consisting of ever-more clever ad campaigns. In no time, this became a fantasy role-playing game all its own. I imagined myself the head of Odyssey’s marketing division, intrepidly making decisions and marshaling resources as sales data came in.

(To that end, I irritated the hell out of employees at all the local toy stores by regularly phoning them to ask how the Odyssey console and games were selling compared to its rivals.)

In this glorious daydream, I worked in a palatial building inspired by a bank I had seen downtown. It was a huge, sleek structure, two or three stories tall, with rounded corners. Inside, natural lighting from skylights illuminated the white carpets, walls, and furnishings in a large, open atrium. It reminded me of Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. This was my base of operations.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. While I enjoyed my marketing daydreams, I eventually became frustrated by the reality I saw on the ground. Atari and Intellivision continued their heated battle, their explosive commercials appearing every night on TV.

Meanwhile, from the people at Odyssey, silence.

Endless, painful, humiliating silence.

Calling for air support

Exasperated, I sat down at my dad’s desk one day and turned on his electric typewriter. I began to write a letter to the real-life executives behind this marketing malpractice.

I remember typing it in meticulous block style. I don’t know how I even knew what block style was. But I do know that I took care to make it look just so.

In my letter, I explained that I was a big fan of Odyssey who had supported the system from the start. I expressed my frustration that a product with so many competitive advantages should be so little known by the buying public.

My last line was a real zinger. Recalling the Odyssey’s oft-used tagline, I wrote:

“The keyboard may be the key to greater challenge, but in marketing, advertising is the key to success.”

I borrowed a stamp and envelope from my mom and mailed the letter to Magnavox headquarters. I’d got the name and title of one of the company’s executives from the quarterly Odyssey Adventure news magazine I subscribed to.

And then I waited.

I don’t know what for. Maybe I expected my letter to be printed in the magazine. Maybe I’d hoped for a personal reply.

What I got was infinitely, unbelievably, indescribably better.

My first marketing dream comes true

I remember it was a Friday night and my sister and I were at home with a babysitter. My parents were out bowling in their mixed league. It was still early, I think—between 7 and 8 p.m. The Donny and Marie Show had not yet started and I was watching a two-man bowling match broadcast live from Milwaukee.

That’s when it happened.

That’s when I saw the most amazing and beautiful thing my young eyes had ever seen.

The bowling match broke for a commercial and this appeared on the screen:

In the ad, a black-cloaked figure called “the Wizard of Odyssey²” was playing an incredible role-playing game called Quest for the Rings. And from the look of it, the keyboard was abso-freaking-loutely the key to greater challenge.

I lost my mind.

“They did it!” I remember shouting. “They did it! Odyssey put a commercial on TV!”

Hours later, when my parents returned home, I excitedly told them what I had seen. My dad explained to me that most likely, my letter hadn’t had anything to do with the commercial. I didn’t care. All that mattered to me was that I, chief marketing officer at Odyssey headquarters, had called for more advertising—and my request had been granted.

Take THAT, Atari and Intellivision!

From that moment on, I was hooked. On video games. On advertising. On marketing strategy and copywriting (although it would be many years before I would first hear the word).

My life was forever changed. At the tender age of 10, I knew what I wanted to do.

(By the way, if you’d like to play Odyssey² games today, you can do so easily at the Internet Archive Console Library. Clicking on a title opens the game in your browser window. It’s fiddly to find the right keys to use, but you’ll figure it out with a little trial and error.)

Happily ever after?

My love for video games and writing continued to mix for many years. In 1992, I wrote a letter that was published in Next Generation, one of the greatest video game magazines of all time. Soon after, I interviewed for an editor position at Imagine Games Network (IGN) in California. I was about to land the job, but decided I just couldn’t bring myself to move so far away from my family. In any event, the company published my first piece of freelance writing, a web article about the Nintendo 64. And in 1997, I started my own video game news and review website called Inside Gamer.

These days, I still love and play video games. But I don’t write about them. Maybe that will change one day.

What may surprise you is that last year, I started to lose interest in marketing copywriting.

Then I made a decision. I wasn’t going to play the same old game anymore.

I had had it with endless meetings, office politics, back-stabbing co-workers, and corporate BS. I was done with morning and evening commutes that took me 30 minutes to drive 10 miles.

The time had come to work from home as a full-time freelance copywriter.

Today, it’s a whole new—and much better—ballgame. (Think today’s video baseball games versus Atari VCS.)

Yes, it really is that big a difference.

And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit back and reminisce about those early days and the fun I had with my Odyssey² console, my colored chalks, and that giant green chalkboard.

I’d like to dedicate this post to Sally, Mike, Lisa, Sue, Cindy, Kelly, and the other copywriters who gave me my first shot as an associate copywriter. I learned a ton from you all, and I am grateful to you to this day. I honestly can’t think of a better place to have started my career, or a smarter, more fun and talented group of people to have started it with. Thanks for being there and for putting up with all of my BS. Even back then, I could be—and often was—a cranky creative.

Back to blog home page.

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Do you have a love of video games? What inspired you to choose your profession, creative or otherwise? Share below.