There are a few things that I look back on as my mistakes in the early days.
Quake was overly ambitious technically. We could have done all the great multiplayer and modding work inside a Doom++ engine, allowing the designers to work with a more stable base instead of rug-pulling everything out from underneath them a couple times. The follow up game could have then brought in full 6DOF environments and characters.
I pushed everyone too hard. I didn’t appreciate how maturing companies need more slack, and that running people at startup intensity constantly will wear them out. Quake was also where I really had to accept my personal limits. I was working pretty much as hard as humanly possible, and I was still slipping past my goal points.
On all of the founders’ shoulders, our original corporate stock arrangement and buy/sell agreement was a mistake, and resulted in bad incentives. We wanted to ensure that all ownership rested in the hands of people working hard on current projects, but the Silicon Valley standard approach of vesting stock would have worked out better.
One real problem that I don’t accept the blame for is that we were insisting that level designers be not just game designers, but also have strong visual design esthetics. They needed to make things that not only played well, but looked awesome, and it got more challenging as the technology provided a richer palette. Romero covered that well, which set our company expectations early on.
We should have figured out how to pair up artists and designers earlier, but there was infighting among the designers, and the ones that could manage the visuals were happy to disparage the ones that couldn’t.
Sorry, Sandy.
acho que o ser humano foi feito msm pra ir pra praia, ficar pelado, comer frutinhas, transar, fumar maconha e ficar de dengo agarradinho o resto é tudo bobagem que inventamos
Boomers were “mean drunks” who’d come home hammered and beat their family
Gen Xers were “fun drunks” who maybe had some beers on the couch every day and it totally wasn’t alcoholism but it kinda was
Gen Z grew up with them as parents and grandparents so of course they don’t drink.
Nevada Is Losing Out On $80 Million In Annual Revenue By Separating The Marijuana And Gaming Industries, Report Finds: "The separations act as severe constraints on capital mobility, tourism synergy, and public-revenue growth."
https://t.co/SopRnRv1ab
A 34-year-old physics graduate student spent years writing a strange 800-page book in 1979 about a logician, a Dutch artist, and a German composer. It won the Pulitzer Prize the following year. It quietly became required reading at every AI lab in the world.
It is the only book in history that makes the deepest ideas in computer science feel like a dream you cannot stop thinking about.
I read it across 3 months on a single side table next to my bed and walked away seeing intelligence, consciousness, and AI in a way I cannot un-see.
His name is Douglas Hofstadter. The book is called Gödel, Escher, Bach.
Almost nothing in modern AI makes sense without this book. ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, the entire architecture of self-attention, the alignment problem, the strange feeling that LLMs sometimes seem to understand and other times seem to be playing an elaborate symbol-shuffling game, all of it traces back to questions Hofstadter laid out in a single book published before most of today's AI engineers were born.
Here is the story almost nobody tells you about how the book came to exist.
Hofstadter was the son of Robert Hofstadter, who won the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1961 for measuring the size of the proton. He was supposed to follow in his father's footsteps.
He started a physics PhD at the University of Oregon. He was miserable. He could not focus. He did not love the work. He kept getting pulled toward something else.
The something else was a single question that had haunted him since childhood.
How can meaning emerge from meaningless symbols? Specifically, how does a brain, which is made of nothing but cells firing electrical signals at each other, produce something that feels like consciousness, like understanding, like a self?
He could not let the question go. He left physics. He started writing. The book took him years. He wrote it largely in isolation, working in the basement of his parents' house and at Indiana University, where he eventually finished it. He thought it would be read by maybe a few hundred logicians and AI researchers. Basic Books published it in 1979 as a 777-page hardcover.
The next year it won the Pulitzer Prize for general non-fiction and the National Book Award for science.
The book is structured in a way that almost no other book has ever attempted. The chapters alternate between two layers. One layer is technical chapters about logic, computability, neuroscience, and AI. The other layer is fictional dialogues between a tortoise and Achilles, characters borrowed from a paradox by Lewis Carroll.
The dialogues play with the same ideas the technical chapters explain. Read in order, they do not feel like a textbook. They feel like a strange house with rooms that loop back into each other and corridors that change shape behind you.
The first thing the book does is explain Gödel's incompleteness theorems in a way no math textbook had ever managed.
Kurt Gödel, an Austrian logician working in 1931, proved something that broke mathematics. He showed that any formal system powerful enough to describe arithmetic contains statements that are true but cannot be proven inside that system. Mathematics, the most certain thing humans had ever built, has holes in it that can never be filled.
Hofstadter spends hundreds of pages making you understand this proof not just as a mathematical theorem, but as a structural fact about every sufficiently complex system. Including the brain. Including any AI. The reason AI alignment is genuinely hard is not just engineering. It is structural.
Any system smart enough to model itself will contain truths about itself it cannot reach from inside itself. Hofstadter showed this 50 years before AI safety was a field.
The second thing the book does is introduce his core idea. He calls it the strange loop.
A strange loop is what happens when a system, by climbing through layers of itself, somehow ends up back where it started. Escher's drawings of staircases that always go up but somehow loop back are visual strange loops. Bach's musical canons that modulate up through keys and end on the original note are auditory strange loops. Gödel's self-referential statements that talk about themselves are logical strange loops.
Hofstadter argues that consciousness is a strange loop. Your brain builds a model of the world. Inside that model, it builds a model of itself perceiving the world. Inside that self-model, it builds a model of itself thinking about itself perceiving the world. The recursion does not bottom out. The self is what the loop feels like from the inside.
This is the part that AI researchers cannot stop returning to. Modern transformer models use self-attention, which is technically a mechanism where a network attends to its own internal states across layers. Recursive reasoning, where a model thinks about its own thinking, is now a research area with its own conferences. Meta-learning, where models learn how to learn, is a direct descendant of what Hofstadter described in 1979 as the necessary structure of any conscious system. He wrote the philosophy. The engineers are now building the implementation.
The third thing the book does is the part that haunts every AI conversation today.
Hofstadter argued that meaning is not something separate from symbol manipulation. It is what symbol manipulation looks like from the inside, when the manipulation is complex enough and self-referential enough. A simple lookup table does not understand anything. But a system that processes symbols at sufficient depth, with enough self-modeling, with enough recursion, starts to look identical from the outside, and possibly from the inside, to a system that understands.
This is the deepest question in modern AI. When ChatGPT generates a response, is it actually thinking, or is it just doing very fast symbol shuffling? Hofstadter spent 800 pages arguing that the distinction may not exist at sufficient scale. If a system shuffles symbols according to the right structure, meaning is what the shuffling looks like from the inside.
You can read modern debates about AI consciousness from Yann LeCun, Geoffrey Hinton, Ilya Sutskever, and David Chalmers, and you will find that they are all, in their own ways, having the argument Hofstadter framed in 1979.
The fourth thing the book did is the one that took the longest to be vindicated.
Hofstadter argued, and continued arguing for decades, that the actual engine of human intelligence is not logic. It is not deduction. It is not pattern matching in any simple sense. It is analogy. The ability to see one thing as similar to another thing, to map the structure of one situation onto a different situation, is, in his view, the core of thought itself.
For decades this was unfashionable. Symbolic AI focused on logic and rules. Statistical AI focused on pattern matching. Almost nobody worked seriously on analogy.
Then large language models started working. And the people who looked closely at what they were doing realized something uncomfortable. LLMs are, fundamentally, analogy machines. They learn structural patterns from text and apply those patterns by analogy to new situations. They do not deduce. They do not reason logically by default. They map the shape of one thing onto the shape of another thing and produce output that fits the new shape.
Hofstadter saw this before any of it existed. His later book Surfaces and Essences, written with Emmanuel Sander, is 600 pages defending the claim that analogy is the core of cognition. It came out in 2013. It was largely ignored. The ChatGPT release in 2022 was, in some sense, a vindication of the entire argument.
The strangest thing about reading Gödel, Escher, Bach in 2026 is realizing how lonely the book must have felt when it was written.
In 1979 there was no GPT. No deep learning. No transformer. The dominant approach to AI was symbolic logic, and most researchers thought minds were going to be programmed top-down, rule by rule, like a complicated chess engine. Hofstadter said the opposite. He said minds were emergent. They came from the bottom up. They were strange loops in complex substrates. The programmers' approach would never produce real intelligence because it was missing the recursive self-modeling that made minds real.
He was right.
The book is hard. I had to use all the LLMs and NotebookLM to understand it. It is not a beach read. You do not finish it in a weekend. The math chapters require attention. The dialogues require patience. Most people who buy it never finish it. That is fine. The book is structured so that reading any 50 pages produces a permanent shift in how you think.
Bill Gates lists it among the books that shaped him. Steve Jobs read it. Almost every senior AI researcher in the world will tell you it was the book that made them fall in love with the question of intelligence in the first place.
Hofstadter himself has been in doubt about modern LLMs. He has said they may have proven him right about analogy and wrong about consciousness at the same time. He is still writing. He is still working on the same question that pulled him out of physics 50 years ago.
The 800-page book that explained intelligence before AI existed is sitting one click away from you.
Most people will never open it. The ones who do will see the world differently for the rest of their lives.
Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.
We need a cannabis cruise line now, a floating paradise where weed is the main event. No hiding vapes or boring dry cruises; just ocean breezes mixed with fresh terps, perfect strains for every mood, infused gourmet food, hot tub chills, and epic deck raves.
OPINION by Bryan Driscoll: Vegas hasn’t gotten greedy — it’s become downright cruel. Today’s middle-class tourists are subjected to the constant humiliation of scuzzy upcharges and nickel-and-dime torture.
Read it here: https://t.co/K5RiZGynVF
Quake 3 Arena has been ported to web browser, with desktop and MOBILE support!
Touch screen controls, online play and more!
We're reliving the Quake Live era, this is awesome!
In 1996, a guy in Portland who’d already had one novel rejected figured he was never getting published. So he stopped trying to impress anyone and wrote the angriest thing he could. He sold it to a publisher for $6,000. Fewer than 5,000 people bought it.
Fox picked up the film rights for $10,000.
They gave it to David Fincher. Gave him $63 million, Brad Pitt at $17.5 million, Edward Norton on a redirected pay-or-play deal from a completely different movie. The studio was buzzing internally. Executives loved it. Then they actually watched the finished film.
The marketing budget quietly got slashed.
The world premiere was at the Venice Film Festival, September 1999. Giorgio Armani was in the audience. The head of the festival was in his seat. Pitt and Norton had smoked a joint and were sitting up in the balcony together.
Helena Bonham Carter delivered the line. The festival director stood up and left. The audience booed. Loudly. People walked out. Norton remembered the boos drowning out the film.
Two people in the entire building were laughing. You could hear them cackling from the balcony. It was Pitt and Norton.
As the credits rolled, Pitt turned to Norton in the dark and said: “That’s the best movie I’m ever going to be in.” Norton said, “I think so too.” They hugged each other. Norton says they were both almost crying. Not from embarrassment. From joy.
The film opened to $11 million. The producer got the weekend projection fax and called it “a stab in your heart.” Within a month, Fight Club was out of the top ten. $37 million domestic on a $63 million budget. The Wall Street Journal, Entertainment Weekly, the LA Times all destroyed it. One British critic called it “an inadmissible assault on personal decency.”
Fincher printed that review on the DVD case.
That DVD sold 13 million copies. Fox had to reissue the special edition after fans bought out the original run. $55 million in rentals on top of that. Entertainment Weekly ranked it the #1 Essential DVD ever made.
The novel that sold 5,000 copies became the film rated 8.8 on IMDb with a 96% audience score. The New York Times later called it “the defining cult movie of our time.”
The people who booed were sure they were right. The two guys cackling in the balcony knew something the room didn’t.
Every generation’s most important work gets rejected by the audience that sees it first. The audience that makes it immortal always comes later.