Electronic fireworks: the art of the Demoscene

By the end of the 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s, when many of the people reading these words had not even been born yet, the first wave of domestic computerization — the era of so-called home computers — had already taken place.

It was the age of the Commodore 64, to be clear: the king of those years, a machine that certainly needs no introduction. And then came the Amiga, its successor.

At that time, computers were not “cool” objects, nor were they admired status symbols in the way today’s latest smartphone model might be. Home computers were used by kids for video games or, at best, were a niche hobby: a solitary and mysterious pastime, like amateur radio with its “baracchino” CB set — something for odd people, or nerds.

Then two things happened.

The origins of the demoscene

First: in Northern Europe, helped along by long, empty winters, young people began to “tinker”, as people used to say, and to use their home computers in more advanced ways. This happened especially in Scandinavia, but also in other parts of the old continent, including Italy and Greece.

Second: the phenomenon of piracy developed. In many cases, it was a “harmless”, domestic and creative form of piracy: the internet did not exist, and games and software circulated from hand to hand, through exchanges between friends that slowly turned into something more structured and organized.

Crews began to appear: groups of young people who started building their own subculture, competing with one another and developing their own languages and way of life.

To mark a game or program distributed by a specific crew, these teenage pirates inserted very short sequences during the software loading phase, with animated text and music; a bit like a graffiti crew tagging a wall, or a production company placing its logo at the beginning of a film.

These were cracktros, or “crack introductions”.

Before long, these clips became independent objects, no longer confined to the role of introductions to pirated software.

The demoscene was born.

What demos are

In essence, demos — short for “demonstrations” — are brief computer-graphics clips, created entirely digitally and not with a camera.

The cultural environment in which these clips developed, and the history of the “movement” and of computerization itself, are essential to understanding their nature.

As the name suggests, demos are made to demonstrate the capabilities of the computers that run them and of the programmers who created them. They are an act of bravado and, at the same time, a form of computer poetry, shaped by precise cultural codes and stylistic conventions.

Once detached from their original function as introductions to pirated software, demos acquired a “classic structure” that has remained more or less unchanged over time.

A typical clip presents a frame that introduces a narrative or thematic thread; inside that frame is enclosed a series of graphic and musical effects. The goals are to show off the qualities of the machine and of the programmers, and to “raise the bar” by squeezing everything possible out of the hardware.

The essence of every demo is to be as baroque as possible, as close to the limit as it can get. The resulting overload of the senses and conceptual complexity is designed to amaze the viewer.

A true scene

But a show cannot exist without a stage.

The “circle” in which demos are produced and circulated becomes the scene. And not only in a symbolic sense: there are events — known as parties — where creations compete; there are reference websites, even streaming radio stations, not to mention nearby fields that developed from the same cultural context, such as chiptune music.

Although it remains an underground phenomenon, the demoscene has evolved and continues to evolve.

From technique to art

Early demoscene productions were often little more than a series of effects enclosed within a frame.

As astonishing and dazzling as they could be, these clips lacked completeness and a true unity of inspiration — qualities necessary for them to be considered fully fledged works of art, creations worthy of being seen in their own right rather than as vernacular forms, mere expressive accessories of a subculture.

Returning to the comparison between the demoscene and graffiti writing, and between demos and graffiti “pieces”, we could say that the early scene was still missing its own Banksy.

Spaceballs and the turning point

But within any fertile cultural milieu, protagonists do not take long to emerge.

For the demoscene, those protagonists were Spaceballs.

The Norwegian group led by Lone Starr — Paul Endresen — appeared on the scene in 1990 and quickly established itself at all the major Scandinavian parties.

The work that secured their place in history was undoubtedly State of the Art.

State of the Art overturned all the conventions of demoscene production up to that point.

First of all, it was not simply a collection of heterogeneous effects, but revolved around a very precise concept: the silhouette of a woman dancing.

Second, it moved away from the ideal world typical of demos, which until then had been inspired by abstract, mathematical or decorative motifs.

Finally, it broke one of the scene’s “taboos” by using filmed images — raster graphics — instead of computer-generated vector graphics.

This became even more evident in its “sequel”: 9 Fingers.

When the demo becomes art

To some eyes today, these productions may look like simple 1990s videos. But to those who watch them with the “right” eyes, they are pure digital magic.

By mixing filmed elements and computer graphics, Spaceballs achieved the miracle of transforming demos into works of art.

Demos could now also convey messages.

One example is State of Mind.

The demoscene today

With the new millennium, the scene returned to territories more naturally suited to it: exploration, experimentation, and the tension toward the maximum limit allowed by the machine.

The equation that sums it all up is only one:

code = poetry

Conclusion

And now, stop reading.

Start these videos, close your eyes for a moment, open them again — and lose yourself in a world of strange flowers and electric butterflies.