As I alighted from the British Airways Boeing 747 I took my first look at Russia. It seemed to be a country full of aeroplanes and flat ground. I doubted whether I was going to enjoy my time here but the thought of meeting the inventor of Tetris spurred me on. The biting wind that hit me as I walked to the terminal did little to help my mood, especially as I was not wearing appropriate clothes.

Alexey Pazhitnov was waiting at the arrivals gate for me. I had expected someone slightly nerdier and perhaps better dressed. He has warm eyes, a rather mischievous turn to his mouth and messy hair. What was once attractive stubble has become too scruffy to be fashionable. Combined with the sack he is wearing he might even be a beggar. He smells, possibly a fart. The cause of the mischievous smile?

We walk to his 'kar', which I get on. As he gets in my journalistic training tells me I should be watching him collecting information to include in my piece. Such as "As he climbs into the car Alexey turns the air conditioning on and a cold blast blows into my face. He emits a harsh cackle and declares 'It is very cold in Russia'... Alexey clearly has high hand-eye coordination but has the knack of slotting the car right up against the others when we stop at lights ... Alexey has a very relaxed air yet comes out with some of the most fascinating comments I have ever heard; he is clearly a genius". Something quirky, something idiosyncratic and something just to be sycophantic. As the inventor of so popular a game I expected him to be a real personality.

But Alexey offers little. He sits in the car, he drives adequately and we arrive at an unattractive building.

He pushes me up the stairs to a pokey little room with rubbish strewn everywhere. He starts rummaging around. Perhaps he is expecting me to ask him some questions. For most of the flight I had been thinking of a good introductory question. It would have to show I was both knowledgeable and interested and still give him a chance to make a good impression. Perhaps an issue that was slightly taboo and insulting would break the ice.

'Alexey, you live in a country that has been in the shadow of Europe for the last thousand years. A country that needed a genocidal maniac like Josef Stalin to gain the façade of being a superpower. A country that ultimately ...'

He is holding a finger to his lips.

'Shut up.'

We are in the car again. To my surprise and regret he starts to talk.

'We go to Tetris tournament then we speak.'

Will I get to see the man in action? Perhaps this will be worth it after all. Only a few people recognise the name Alexey Pazhitnov to be that of the inventor and World Champion of Tetris. Famous, among many other feats, for having got only tetri (the official plural) on level 5/9 of game type B.

I look for the first time to the back of his car and see piles of manuscripts. I pick one up and am surprised to see it is in English.

Tetris Examination 2002


Please answer one of the following:


1. Account for the success of Tetris in comparison to Dr. Mario? Why was the judge wrong in allowing the licensing of the latter?

2. Compare the advantages and disadvantages of the block to the 'L'.

3. Which music type is the best? Why?

4. 'Pressing select and not being able to see what the next shape is should mean you get more points' (Vladimir Gotzne). Do you agree?

We have arrived at the tournament site and I am forced to put the exam away. There is a grotty sign hanging over a drab building saying, I expect, Tetris Tournament, though I cannot be sure as it is in Russian. I enter into a large hall where fifty people are gathered in the centre holding their Gameboys. Surrounding them are about twenty members of the press here to give coverage of the Championships to be broadcasted throughout Russia. A hush descends on the room as Alexey enters. A few flashes go off and a camera turns to capture the big mans entry.

Alexey is not fazed and goes straight up to the scoreboard. Interestingly they appear to be using the Polish method of scoring, using game-type A and counting the number of lines. Vladimir Gotze appears to be in the lead with 204. No mean feat but Alexey can better it. A new wonderkid has recently been challenging the two champions and he is just behind Vladimir with 200 lines.

Alexey sits and his Gameboy is plugged into a digital display. He chooses game-speed 9, surely an attempt to intimidate his competitors. A woman vomits and rushes from the room. Rapidly Alexey builds up a block leaving a hole to side, as his is trademark, until a long one comes and he slips it down for the Tetris. Very soon he has reached 140 lines and the pieces are whizzing down at speed. It looks as though he is in trouble, a huge gap has been formed through seemingly poor planning. A few cameras flash. Is this the end of Alexey Pazhitnov's dominance? More pieces come down and suddenly it all fits together and the gap is filled. 180 lines and there is no build up at all. The crowd applaud in appreciation of the daring move. What a man.

Half an hour later and Alexey has won the competition with 205 lines. Having got the highest score, Alexey simply puts the Gameboy down and picks up the trophy, an insult to Vladimir. I have my chance for the interview.

'That was a fine piece of Tetris out there, Alexey. Congratulations!'

'Thank you,' he says a rare smile spreading across his lips.

'How did you come to invent the game? It is rather odd, you a Russian making a game for a Japanese company.'

'My father was a carpenter and used to have a lot of excess wood that I would play with. I became fascinated with putting bits of ordinarily shaped pieces of wood tightly together into flat uninteresting shapes. At the tender age of 6 I was found by my parents lecturing a group of farmers about the beauty of the T-shape versus the tedium of the L-shape. Pappa saved me from the disinterested mob who were attempting to insert a potato into my wise mouth. I decided to leave home to take my genius where it would not be wasted. As a teenager I went touring with it, lecturing on jigsaw and puzzle making in the Caucasus Mountains, and was soon picked up by an agency. My memory then goes blurry and the years leading up to my early thirties are lost. All I remember of my twenties was that my doctorate on puzzles and jigsaws in Russia was controversially never officially accepted. Intellectual repression and bureaucracy sadly intervened as they used the excuse that a PhD had to be more than 650 words and couldn't be submitted with two soundtracks.

'I had many a pupil - but they became jealous and turned on me. I was bullied and mocked by them and one day they strung me up on one of my giant T-shape cut outs and left me there to die. It was in this position that I thought up Tetris ? the rest, as they say, is history.'

'But how did you escape from that infernal T-shaped thingy?' I asked as a token gesture that I was listening.

'I never have, in some ways...' he replied whimsically.

'You must have made a lot of money from it.' I say this knowing he has made none because the Commie government took it all from him.

'F**k off.' Perhaps he could see I was smiling.