A stir ran through the crowd.
"You can modify anything in the game." Romero spread his arms like a preacher. "Monster data, weapon trajectories, gravity parameters—you can even import 3D models you've made yourselves and rewrite the entire gameplay logic. As long as you have enough imagination, Quake can become a racing game, or it can become a role-playing game. We're handing the keys over to you."
David stopped writing and turned to look at Paul.
This was the biggest news of the day.
In an era when manufacturers guarded game source code like it was under lock and key, id Software was doing the exact opposite.
They were not only opening up the tools, they were directly encouraging players to modify the game's underlying logic.
"They're building an ecosystem," Paul said in a low voice, excitement seeping into his tone. "These geeks are too damn smart. Players create content themselves, and the game's lifespan gets stretched out indefinitely."
A piece of industry gossip that had been circulating some time ago flashed through David's mind.
Supposedly, Sega's Nakayama Takuya had privately had contact with Carmack before.
Combined with the highly open Mod support strategy Romero had announced today, the outline of the matter gradually became clear.
The programmers and independent developers below the stage could no longer sit still.
To them, this was not merely a game. This was an open-source sandbox where they could splash their creativity around to their hearts' content.
It was more tempting than any high-paying job-recruitment ad for Game Gear.
The press conference ended in a feverish atmosphere.
Romero did not take questions. He tossed the microphone onto the sofa onstage and walked off without looking back.
He left behind the dark-red game logo on the curtain, and the audience below, still hungry for more.