Signs Your Man is Gay and Does Crimes: (a) hijacks military-industrial weapons to fight the oppressors, (b) defends the marijuana anarchists of America, (c) must rescue his big '80s-haired goth boyfriend, (d) stars in three Golden Age throwback arcade games reimagining '80s classics as thinly veiled socio-political satire, and (e) was once lost to time like other Macintosh oddities (straight and otherwise), only to get re-discovered decades later

There's a lot to say about Foobar Versus the DEA, a mid-'90s Macintosh vertical shooter outweighed by its messages, subcultural themes, and historic context. Cadensia's review focused on the larger anti-Reaganite/-Clintonite background, while I'm captivated by this game's vision of an alternate history where queer super-heroics could exist in the local pizza parlor, accepted no matter if it fits our definitions of quality. In the words of developers Richard Cross and Tom Cruse: "The game plays like Xevious. We have music, sound, and fun graphics. What is the story behind Foobar? Foobar has been pushed too far. His boyfriend, Ned, has been captured by the DEA." [1] See? It's just like those arcade icons of yesterday, but with something more to say, a reflection of real-world problems that transcends the usual power fantasies. And in this earnestness, I think it mostly succeeds. Moments like grabbing the missile-shaped condom with a US flag, or our hero holding Ned in his arms like ye olde damsels in distress, put a fun, barbed spin on my shoot-'em-up expectations.

In the larger Macintosh software world, this must have felt like a kick in the pants to whoever played it. Let's recall that Apple and Macs in general were limping towards an ignominious demise at the hands of Windows hegemony. All the best shareware releases of the day, like Mighty Mike and Escape Velocity plus big-box legends like the Marathon series could only hold back the inevitable. Foobar Versus the DEA sends an extra potent message as such, a defiant assertion of pride in a dying platform and the voices it emphasized over the status-quo products making waves on most PCs of the era. Sure, I sincerely doubt Ambrosia Software would have published anything as brazen as this—look to their later Mars Rising for an example of the typical Mac retro shooter. But this kind of interactive media found a home on usergroups, newsletters, and early World Wide Web sites evangelizing the Mac experience. [2]

The word "Foobar" derives from hacker culture, a corrupt of military jargon ("FUBAR") and signal terms used at MIT's model train club starting in the late-1950s. [3] And it's fitting, if disappointing, that this game's as DIY and ersatz as the name itself. Nothing here feels good to actually play. I wouldn't call the sluggish ship movement, imprecise hitboxes, molasses scrolling, or generally repetitive game loop bad, but it's a far cry from what else had arrived in the Mac scene. You've got 4 levels of predictable, seemingly interminable waves of missiles, turrets, and weird lil' enemies gunning at you. There's just one weapon power-up, the usual extra life and score "yummies", and it's very easy to accidentally destroy these items via your own shots! Neither the comically short musical loops nor early Flash-game visual designs are distinctive or laudable, either. At least the game's nice to let you save between levels on any difficulty, plus retaining the upgraded shot speed between deaths. It's just frustrating that most of this game feels like a prototype that Cross and Cruse slapped a compelling set of themes atop, rather than something more holistic.

For all that negativity, I still think it's worth giving this a try if the idea of playing a bog standard, forgettable yet memorable Macintosh oldie fascinates you. Foobar Versus the DEA has a neat anarchic, subversive atmosphere whenever the narrative comes back into focus. Fighting supervillains like the corporate sellout scientist Marlboro Man and NSA-like mainframe AI NOSEY matches the comic-book onomatopoeia shouting at players during each level. My Camp-O-Meter hits dangerous readings whenever I look at our hero's lantern-jawed physique, or the completely sincere use of google-eyed smiley faces as enemy artillery. "Irreverent" is the best descriptor here, and I'm glad that the two-man duo behind this romp didn't take themselves too seriously. That seems to have been the goal for two yet undumped sequels—Foobar Versus the FCC & Foobar vs. His Local School Board—which each have their own evil tetrumvirates to defeat in fabulous fashion.

Sadly, this milestone in the Mac community truly almost faded into the annals of obscurity, not helped by Cruse's unfortunate death in a car accident a year after making this series. We now have projects like the LGBTQ Video Game Archive compiling primary info and resources on this, thankfully, but it remains a footnote in daily discussion of pre-Y2K indie gaming. Simply playing this at all, without compromise, takes a bit more work than giving it a glance on Internet Archive, as the game requires you to use the Apple command key, bound to Windows and other OS-specific keys in emulation, which can be a technical hassle. I ended up running the program in Mac OS 8.1 via Basilisk II just to have as pure a 68k-based environment as I can currently use! So I won't blame any of y'all for skipping over this despite its short 15-30 minute runtime (at least on Easy, the default setting).

Foobar Versus the DEA falls into something of an uncanny valley. While it's certainly queer and emblematic of late-night hacker sessions (and other precursors to game jams), there's plenty old-fashioned aspects to it as well. Multiple difficulties and lenient checkpoints clash in style against enemy spam hemming players into the middle, all while they destroy power-ups due to a lack of time and space to collect them. And though it does okay enough in most areas for me to deem it playable, there were already much better, much more impressive genre throwbacks and evolutions leading the freeware and shareware markets on Mac back in '96. Following in the wake of fully confident titles like Caper in the Castro, I just find this game lacking as a countercultural remnant of a pre-Obama milieu. Regardless, we ought not to let this early LGBTQIA+ game disappear into the word-of-mouth ether. Let's do it for Tom Cruse. Do it for Ned.

—Bibliography—

[1] Cross, Richard, and Tom Cruse. “The FOOBAR FAQ.” Foobar FAQ. Richard Cross, October 2, 1999. https://web.archive.org/web/20010823133634/http://www.desy.de/~cross/foobar/FAQ.html. Retrieved from Internet Archive via Wayback Machine, March 31, 2023.
[2] Cross, Richard. “Info-Mac Digest V14 #251.” Info-Mac. Info-Mac, October 30, 1996. https://www.info-mac.org/viewtopic.php?f=213&t=14153&p=16227&hilit=Foobar#p16227.
[3] Eastlike, Donald E., Carl-Unro Manros, and Eric S. Raymond. “Etymology of ‘Foo’ (RFC 3092).” The Internet Society, April 1, 2001, 1–14. https://www.rfc-editor.org/rfc/rfc3092.txt. Internet Requests for Comments (RFC).

     ‘Grass isn’t against the law!’
     – Ricardo Cortés, It's just a plant, 2005.

Played during the Backloggd’s Game of the Week (Mar. 28 – Apr. 3, 2023).

The 1990s saw a shift in the Christian Right's rhetoric towards LGBT communities. In previous decades, most arguments focused on the alleged pathological deviance of these groups, associating homosexuality with paedophilia and mental illness. At the same time, this rhetorical framework made it possible to assert the superiority of Christian values, threatened by a new Sodom and Gomorrah. A clear illustration of the ideological shift can be seen in the vote on Amendment 2 to the Colorado Constitution (1992) and its subsequent ruling of unconstitutionality by the Supreme Court (Romer v. Evans, 1996). The text sought to prohibit any law or decision protecting minorities in the State on the grounds of sexual orientation: it was passed by popular initiative before being struck down by both the Colorado Supreme Court and the Federal Court. The dissenting opinions in these rulings stressed that Amendment 2 should not be an issue, as it did not seek to deny rights to homosexuals, but only to prevent any form of affirmative action.

     The American conservative right's new means of action

This ideological stance reflects a malaise that has plagued America since the Reagan presidency: since the civil rights movements, decisions to protect vulnerable groups have been seen as preferential treatment that disadvantages white middle-class Americans – the electoral backbone of conservatives. The Amendment 2 campaign was largely led by Colorado for Family Values, co-founded by Tony Marco. An ex-gay, Marco has largely steered the campaign away from traditional arguments in favour of a legalistic and misleading sociological approach. He repeatedly states that "gays are no 'minority'; gay militants constitute a rich, powerful special interest. And, to coin a phrase, enough money makes anyone a 'majority’" [1]. Didi Herman explains that this line of argument has been adopted by conservative movements that have sought to regain respectability by avoiding overtly religious discourse; certainly the Christian Right was largely convinced of the immorality and sinfulness of homosexuals, but publicly it had to be reasonable and fight on a more liberal ground, that of rights and law. [2]

This less explicitly extremist discourse finds institutional expression in the 'war on drugs', initiated by the creation of the Drug Enforcement Administration in 1973. Since the Reagan presidency, and especially during the Bush administration, the budget for these actions has increased from $5 million to over $600 million. [3] This 'war on drugs' has been characterised by, among other things, the militarisation of borders, political interference in South American countries, and an increase in abusive arrests, particularly of racial minorities. Most of the literature on the social consequences of the 'war on drugs' focuses, for understandable reasons, on its impact on ethnic minorities, and much research remains to be done on the links between LGBT communities, the AIDS epidemic and 'war on drugs' policies. However, recent studies show how it is being used as a moral panic to criminalise LGBT people who are more vulnerable and at risk of using these substances. [4]

     Very explicit and simplistic LGBT references

It is in this very broad social context that Foobar versus the DEA must be understood. Like other LGBT games of the period – Caper in the Castro (1989), a point-n-click game featuring a lesbian detective, comes to mind – Foobar versus the DEA reuses relatively familiar gameplay elements, in this case the shoot'em up formula inspired by Xevious (1983). From a technical point of view, the game showcases the new capabilities of Mac machines, but remains relatively behind the rest of video game production. The player assumes the role of Foobar, whose outfit is largely inspired by comic book superheroes, on a quest to find his boyfriend Ned, who has been unjustly arrested by the DEA. To free him, Foobar must take on the entire American penal system, backed by capitalist industry, the media and a Big Brother-like super-computer.

The title is divided into four levels, each featuring one of the stakeholders in this 'war on drugs'. The game does not conceal its LGBT references or its disdain for authority, as the various power-ups make no attempt at subtlety: the rainbow flag adds one life to the counter, and the American flag-draped condom – which actually looks a lot like a missile – serves as a shield. The pointer that marks the drop point of the bombs is, incidentally, a pink triangle, the symbol of the gay community. There is a playful irreverence in these elements, but the militaristic aspect of the title seems a little odd. Not that there should be no violence against state institutions and their repressive policies, but Foobar versus the DEA features mostly traditional military weapons in what is technically an air raid. This can be seen as an ironic reversal of American practices, but there is a lack of purposefulness in the process, to the point where one might suspect an internalisation of American methods.

     Archaic in its design, modern in its representation

For the rest, Foobar versus the DEA is a mediocre title. The airship's manoeuvrability is rather poor, which makes dodging projectiles frustrating, especially as the hitboxes seem very permissive. The missiles, which fly horizontally across the screen, are probably the worst feature, as they force the player to stay in the middle of the screen, reducing the space available for manoeuvring. The game is generally devoid of any real gameplay ambitions, as it is so much a rehash of the conventions of the time, which were already archaic in 1996. The lack of variety in the enemies and their erratic movements make every death particularly tedious, as does the very slow scrolling, which adds to the impression of interminable levels. Admittedly queer-coded for its time, the game does not manage to instil its themes beyond a few visual elements and synopsis statements.

This is a shame, because Foobar versus the DEA, shared as a freeware, represents the versatility of the LGBT community in the midst of the great social, economic and health crisis it experienced in the United States during the 1980s and 1990s. The game confronts the mainstream representations that still nourished that era; similar to the New Queer Cinema, led by a new generation of filmmakers and characterised by a very offensive rhetoric against the patriarchal and religious order, Foobar versus the DEA does not hesitate to attack industry giants, media and state institutions. Although it struggles to be a convincing experiment from a purely technical standpoint, it is an important record in the cultural history of the LGBT community.

__________
[1] Tony Marco, Shaky Foundation: Twelve 'Big Lies' The 'Gay Rights' Movement is Built on, 1993, quoted in Didi Herman, '(Il)legitimate Minorities: The American Christian Right's Anti-Gay-Rights Discourse', in Journal of Law and Society, vol. 23, no. 3, p. 350.
[2] Didi Herman, op. cit.
[3] Yulia Vorobyeva, ‘Illegal Drugs as a National Security Threat: Securitization of Drugs in the U.S. Official Discourse’, in Bruce M. Bagley, Jonathan D. Rosen (ed.), Trafficking, Organized Crime, and Violence in the Americas Today, University of Florida Press, Gainesville, 2015, p. 50.
[4] Grace Ramsey, ‘How the War on Drugs Harms the LGBTQIA+ Community’, in Drug Policy Alliance, 22nd June 2018, consulted on 30 March 2023.