This interview is available on a couple of other retro sites but as it sheds some light on the state of the ZX81 software market in 1985, here it is with links
Fools' gold from the funny farm?
from Sinclair User January 1985 page 135
including mock-theatre color photos of Julian with a pickaxe swinging at hard rock
Chris Bourne digs into the past of ZX-81 specialist, Julian Chappell
MAKING a living out of the ZX-81 seems an odd thing to attempt in times
when most software houses treat the machine as if it were carrying
typhoid bacteria. Some retailers would prefer to see a rabid dog on their
premises than a ZX-81 game. But such has been the success of Julian
Chappel's Software Farm that not only is the company a going concern but
it is even planning to expand into new and bigger offices.
Julian was born in Hounslow of nomadic parents in 1956. "My father was an
oil depot manager, so we kept moving to new depots. Eventually he retired
to Weston-super-Mare and ran a sub-post office. I started work behind the
counter when I was eighteen."
Julian had an older brother, Paul, who was an electronics graduate. Paul
was setting up his own business constructing control devices for industrial
processes. Julian was dragooned into learning machine-code programming in
order to help write the routines to control the chips.
"Eventually we went high-falutin' and did a control system for the local
nuclear power station. Unfortunately we couldn't throw it into
critical to test the system. I don't know whether they used it in the end."
Before you heave a sigh of relief at the thought that nuclear devastation
may after all not be under the control of the undoubtedly zany Julian, it
is certainly true that a British Steel blast furnace is being monitored by
bits of an old ZX-81, courtesy of the Chappell brothers.
"It provides a printout of the temperature," says Julian, "monitoring
safety levels. Of course, it doesn't look like a ZX-81. We put it in a
fancy box to make sure of that."
Machine-code expertise came haphazardly. "Paul would say, 'I've got this
cheap chip we could bung in it' and half the time I had to hunt through the
libraries for a list of mnemonics to program it. Sometimes there were only
two registers and an accumulator."
Eventually the brothers fell out. "I wanted to do something on my own,"
Julian admits. "The business was unsteady, so I left him to go bust on his
own. It was all very friendly,"
Having drifted almost by chance into the world of micro-electronics, Julian
had already acquired a ZX-81 of his own. "I was mildly interested in the
ZX-80," he says, "but it was almost as crude as what I was doing myself at
the time. Only nutcases had ZX-80s. When the '81 came out I thought I'd find
out about this wonderful Basic language."
His first impression of wonderful Basic was that it was painfully slow, even
when number-crunching. He wrote some games for it in code, a Pacman and
Asteroids game, which were later marketed as Asteroids and Gobblers.
"I wrote them for fun. It was a busman's holiday really. Then I bought
Sinclair User and saw that only about 10 per cent of the ads were for
machine-code games. They talked about it as if it was something amazing and
mysterious. I realised that I might as well jump on the bandwagon."
Together with his girlfriend Sarah Green, Julian took out a
quarter-page ad in Sinclair User and began to sell his games. The two of them
worked from a back bedroom, saving the games directly from the machine and
doing the labels themselves. Sarah herself is far from being just a
convenient envelope-licker, but a business programmer in her own right,
having written for the Sirius, Apricot, "and IBM, yeuckk!"
"The response kept us up at night," Julian continues, "and we started making
money. The problem, which still exists, was that the business side inter-
feres with programming time."
Thus the Software Farm was born. Julian's parents had left the post office
by now and had bought a small farm in South Wales, which became the
business address, as Julian and Sarah were living in rented accommodation
and could not use if commercially.
"We were aware of the general attitude of fear towards computers,
particularly among older people, so we thought calling the company a farm
might help them relate to us. Originally we had a vegetable Pacman
but eventually we decided on the cosmic cockerel."
In between long bouts of duplicating and letter-posting Julian finally
managed to write a new program, Super-Scramble. Instead of
the usual missiles and neutron bombs Julian used bats and a witch at the end.
"It has very imaginative graphics even though they are not hi-res," interjects
Sarah, supportively. The game was released for Christmas 1982 but the manual
duplicating was becoming a major problem.
"At that time all the support agencies were in their infancy," says Julian,
"but then we started getting information through the post; It was a godsend
to us, even though it was still tape-to-tape. Only now, and only with big
companies, can you get loop bin duplication systems."
Julian and Sarah took Super-Scramble to the very first ZX-Microfair
just in time to see Spectrum fever hit the trade.
"We were deserted," says Julian "We sold enough to break even, but it was a
great disappointment. We made no trade contacts. Everyone wanted Spectrum
games, and that has continued ever since."
Being left out in the cold did, however, give Julian a different perspective
on what was happening, "We could see everybody was going bonkers. The soft-
ware was all rubbish, with ten new companies a day. It was blatantly
obvious that the market was flooded from day one."
Eventually Software Farm decided what few software companies dared
to consider: to remain with the ZX-81 in spite of the new machine.
"Although everyone was going stir-crazy, all those ZX-8ls were not going
to evaporate. We thought, let's do something clever and different with it.
With any luck everybody else will leave us with the ZX-81 on our own."
For six months Software Farm lived off the dwindling profits from the
original games, while Julian set himself to work out how to turn the
ZX-81 screen into high resolution.
"It took six months to develop the system and three months to write the
first program, Forty Niner. All the while the money was getting less. There
was a sense of risk. If we had it wrong and the ZX-81s really were gathering
dust then we would go bust."
The crunch came at the Your Computer Christmas Fair in 1983. At that time,
the company was at rock-bottom. Forty Niner was launched, and took off. The
gamble had worked.
Forty Niner was designed as a showpiece for the new graphics which give
the same resolution as on the Spectrum. It is a digging game in which you
must persuade the snakes to eat the giant rats or some such nonsense. Julian
hit on the idea of projecting it as the first in a series of hi-res games,
each one of which is to be on a distinct theme.
"It's like free wotsits in cornflakes packets," says Julian. "If you get one
then you want the whole set."
The second game, Rocket Man, is a levels and
ladders game in which you must collect diamonds while avoiding the man eating
bubloid. If you get past the third level you become a vulture and must eat legs of
lamb to keep your strength up.
Selling the games to retailers was difficult.
You could hear the voice at the other end of the phone drop as soon as
they realised it was a ZX-81 game" says Julian. "We had to offer them sale or
return terms, but once the media was on our side it changed. Now they keep
badgering us for more."
The new game will be called Z-Xtricator,
and will be of the Defender type. "It's not a vehicle for the graphics,
otherwise we would have done it first. We are also going to do a hi-res
utility so people can design their own games."
Z-Xtricator is not intended to be the last in the Software Farm hires series,
but one thing you should not expect is any form of adventure game. Julian
hates them.
"Normal adventures bore me to tears. You are in a dark hole. Something
ferocious is approaching, Then you wait for twenty minutes while nothing
happens ... On the other hand, I have a hankering for a truly animated
adventure, not a pretend one. If we did it, it would probably have to be on the
Spectrum. The Software Farm," he adds, portentously, "being innovatory, will
do it properly."
Sarah is anxious to dispel ideas that a Spectrum game would mean leaving the
ZX-81. "Every letter we get says keep up the good work. We got one cute one
which said the writer had written to Jim'll Fix It because he wanted to meet
Julian."
Software Farm is certainly proud of its following. "As long as consumers
continue to buy the product we are not going to drop the ZX-81," says Julian.
"We'd get lynched if we did."
The company even runs a software club for enthusiasts with a
regular newsletter containing letters, hints and tips, program listings and a series
of articles by Julian on machine-code.
Perhaps it is the company's recognition of the importance of maintaining a
loyal and friendly customer base which ensures its success more than anything
else. Selling a ZX-81 game is quite a different proposition from selling for
the Spectrum.
"All the support industries base prices on what the source industry can
afford," says Julian, "which means Spectrum prices, A ZX-81 program has
to be a hit or it won't make any money at all."
The problem is simply that although ZX-81 games tend to be cheaper than
Spectrum games in the shops, because the ZX-81 itself is cheaper, the
cassettes, labels, duplication and so on all cost just as much, so the
profit margins are much lower. Unfortunately many of the enthusiastic
programmers who send material to Software Farm do not realise that fact.
"Out of the thousands we are sent lots are no good and many are just not
commercial propositions", Julian explains, "The rest have ideas based on
the Spectrum market. But you won't get £40,000 for a Spectrum game yet they
think they can make that on the ZX-81, A hit is vital, and even then it is
not big money. Then they think they are bein. ripped off."
With the hi-res series of games, Julian and Sarah appear to have got this
business about right. Rocket Man reached 28 in a Gallup survey of top
games, which is extraordinary for a market dominated by the Spectrum and
Commodore 64, But determination and nerve have been as much a factor in
their success as excellence of programming or games design.
Perhaps a clue to Julian's character can be found in his hobby, an esoteric
form of karate known as Tang Soo Do, which is concerned with demolishing
opponents wearing full body armour--with your bare hands. "Our instructor
is the World Champion of All Martial Arts" says Julian. Apparently the man
has beaten judo, kung-fu, and karate experts into the ground with his skills.
"If you turn up late for a class, you have to spar with him," Julian grimaces.
It certainly sounds like good preparation for taking on the equally well-
armoured hordes of Spectrum games producers, and winning shelf space and
ratings up there with the best of them. One thing is for sure --
there is no room for turkeys on Julian's farm.