In the Golden Age of video arcades, there was nothing more intimidating, or enticing, to a kid than a new video game with some wacky control interface — the game Defender had about 100 buttons, Atari’s tank commander game Battlezone had two handles that (I guess) were supposed to simulate controlling a tank’s two tracks independently. Several games used a combination of trackballs and buttons to help you manage frenetic action — the most notable being Centipede. Your first three or four precious quarters might be used up just getting a handle on which button or control did which thing. (I’m looking at you Asteroids Deluxe!)
Getting out of that introductory phase — being able to navigate, shoot, fly an ostrich, or deliver newspapers virtually (Paperboy was such a mess of crazy controls I don’t think I ever touched it) — is always a good feeling, and one of the reasons why video games are such great entertainment.
Having grown up with video games and that constant stepwise progress from clueless to competent, this is a paradigm that has always stuck with me. I’ve had various jobs over the years, and no matter how much experience you’ve got, you always start out just learning the controls: where’s the bathroom? How do I get coffee? What do I wear? How do I ask for time off?
