It's becoming increasingly hard to remember a time when we visualised our metropolitan future differently: no rain-polished streets reflecting the glare of neon signs, no fetid slums nestled snugly around imposing high-rises, no collective mass of humanity wearing the marks of economic oppression and state-sanctioned violence in their purposeless haste, their hunched postures, their fearful silence. In other words, it's becoming increasingly hard to remember how we imagined urban dystopias before the iconography of Blade Runner gatecrashed our collective consciousness and etched its initials on the concept.
"My own education was pretty average."
Examine Warren Spector's personally annotated copy of the first Deus Ex design document and you can immediately tell that production wasn't entirely smooth. The pages are littered with alterations and strikeouts, the only section left unmarked the marketing spiel in the preamble. It refers to the game by its working title, Majestic Revelations.
You've read articles in which men of a certain age get misty-eyed about Deus Ex before. Throw an unwanted packet of soya food into the internet, and the first thing it will no doubt strike is an article bent-double around just what makes Bob Page tick.