Invasion of the data snatchers — Untangling the knotty history of the computer virus

The opaque history of the computer virus is characterised by a playful endeavor of wit, social engineering, and bountiful creativity. Its early manifestations came from developers and computer scientists interested in the dynamics of an infectious computer programme. Once infected, the programme applied itself through John von Neummann’s theory of the “self-reproducing automata”: a theory that explores an autonomous “robot”, or in this case computer programme, capable of reproducing itself by using its own environment—artificial life. 

The concept of a malicious, self-replicating computer virus, was explored several times through the twentieth century, especially in works of sci-fi such as The Scarred Man, but it wasn’t until the 1970s, where the experimental advancement of these infectious programmes began. This was an era defined by programmer competitiveness, the use of social engineering as a method for psychological manipulation, the so-called “confidence trick”, and the overt celebration of a successful virus infestation.

The 70s saw the arrival of the likes of Creeper, a cloning virus that displayed the message “I’m the creeper, catch me if you can!”; Wabbit, named after its outstanding speed to replicate; and Elk Cloner, developed by a 15-year-old. All of these examples are considerably more lighthearted by contrast to today’s common understanding of what a virus is. 

By the mid-1980s, the time of good-natured virus testing and observation was over. A new era of developers ushered in malicious intent and seriously harmful computer viruses into the cybersphere. The goal behind virus programs began to shift from simple ‘gotcha’ moments to the exploitation of devices. The motivations were rudimentary: gain a possible advantage by weaponising technology. This period also marked the appearances of some of the first ever malware programs, including the Morris Worm and the Michelangelo Virus, both of which are associated with some of the first extensive computer virus outbreaks.

Nevertheless, mischievousness was always an integral part of programmer one-upmanship that fuelled the improvement of the computer virus. Competitiveness gave way to so-called pranks between insiders, where the better infection was the only triumph. In this way, humor and social engineering were bound into the bittersweet cyber-ethos of the modern virus, both in its noble and vicious intentions. 

These days, the general public’s understanding of technical aspects of computer science has alienated them. The early computer user was even further removed from the technological backdrop of what was happening. This was a key factor in triggering the fear of the unknown within digital virus folklore. Developers utilised the psychological principle of the Greek Trojan Horse to trick users into allowing a harmful program to enter their computers.

By the 1990s and throughout the 2000s, the computer virus was regarded as an existing threat in mainstream culture. It was, of course, linked to the widespread distribution of computers and peripheral devices. Not only did computer viruses such as ILOVEYOU demonstrate the scale and harm that a cyber-attack can affect an everyday user, but also the practice of social manipulation.

ILOVEYOU arrived in May 2000 and is believed to have come from the Philippines. It was a computer worm manifested in the format of an e-mail with the attachment “LOVE-LETTER-FOR-YOU.txt.vbs”. The virus contextualises the digital savviness and widespread user behavior at the time—users lacked the reflexive safety precautions to not open cryptic and unsolicited messages. Perhaps if ILOVEYOU had been encountered a few years later, it would have been easily recognised as sketchy by the majority of recipients.

The curiosity driven by this “romantic” online exchange successfully spread over fifty million infections and is estimated to have caused a minimum of $5.5 billion dollars’ worth of damages, attributed to recovering lost files and erasing the virus from devices.

However compelling ILOVEYOU proved to be, it did not go onto define the image of the online virus in pop culture. ILOVEYOU did not display any messages or visuals after infecting a computer. The design of the cartoon skull popping up on the screen to announce demise was still to come.

The creative features of the modern virus can be attributed to the playfulness inherent in its novelty and independent practice. However, they often attempt to deploy seduction to attract and game the compliance of its victims.

The ingenuity behind a successful computer virus can be seen as twofold — the seduction stage, where psychological manipulation is used to gain access to a device, and the infection or “payload” stage, where visuals supplied an announcement, a celebration, and subsequent taunting.

Lured by a promising commodity being offered and then downloaded, what follows is a sudden collapse of control the user has over his or her computer—in some cases, it just freezes. The user interface is then interrupted by 8-bit music and a strange cartoon or digital landscape exposing the message: GAME OVER. This process renders a reaction of cognitive dissonance in the victim, through the result of watching silly, innocuous images that appear, actively prompting fear.

The attention given by developers to the visuals in a payload was originally a way to announce triumph in the context of competition, however, this transitioned into directly ridiculing the harmed user. The rudimentary aesthetics of it can be attributed to the limited graphic abilities of early computers. Interestingly, the state of panic a user experiences after losing control over a device he barely comprehends is magnified. As confusion sets in, lively aesthetics are encountered, which juxtapose the coldness of a machine.

Perhaps the most well-known visual archive of computer viruses is the Malware Museum. Created by security expert Mikko Hyppönen and computer science historian Jason Scott, the archive not only encompasses the computer virus’ various forms and approaches, but also lauds it as a design entity.

A remarkable registry, the Malware Museum, accounts for experiences, methods, and creativity showcased under the cultural identity of the computer virus. Their collection of 80s and 90s “home computer” malware programmes exhibits distinguished efforts including COFFSHOP, a revered pioneer of hacktivism trumpeting its triumphant message, “Legalize Cannabis”; LSD, accompanied by a hallucinatory animation; and Q-CASINO an early form of ransomware that leaves the faith of a victim to a game of Jackpot.

Most of this collection demonstrates simple attributes like creative text composition, block art, futuristic ideas, and snark as definitive components in the early design of computer viruses. These are most precisely manifested by MARS G, a beautiful rendering of Martian ground with the message: “coding a virus can be creative”. The computer virus aesthetic does not have an overarching style, but like with any medium, it uses the vocabulary available to fabricate individualised expression.

A recent Malware exhibition and research project as commissioned by the Het Nieuwe Instituut, curated by Marina Otero and Bas van de Poel and featuring work by Tomorrow Bureau and van de Poel, takes cues from the Malware Museum as well as contemporary online culture to reflect and reinterpret the aesthetics and modus operandi of the computer virus. These efforts convey an ongoing fervor to understand what makes this digital phenomenon of seduction, trickery, and taunting so enchanting.

One of the most insightful archives for computer viruses has its place on the thriving Youtube channel of user danooct1. His channel’s content is self-described as “computer viruses, trojans, and worms in action. From digital mischief to outright destruction, I try to sample a bit of everything that made older malware (malicious software) unique from its modern-day counterparts”.

Here, getting infected, presenting the ‘payload’, and experiencing the resulting harm is part documentation, part entertainment. An experience only elevated by danooct1’s deep appreciation for the wit of the developers behind these viruses and the contextual recreation through the timely operating systems to constitute an accurate connection with otherwise clouded mythology.

danooct1’s video catalogue explores gems like Gram Reeper, a colourful text composition with the greeting “to all Codebreaker members Serialkiller [CB ‘98]”. Crucifixion, was a virus that chuckles with an animation of a crucified Christ giving two middle fingers. Parrot, was the self-described “talking virus”, which took inspiration from The Italian Man Who Went to Malta, an old YouTube parody video. The absurd and free-spirited nature of a dangerous game runs deep within the virus culture.

The surrounding community has also developed some exciting dynamics such as ‘viewer made’ malware and worms, that contribute to exemplifying the ongoing passion for the craftsmanship associated with this arena of online culture. All, of course, within the boundaries of entertainment and education.  

The history of the computer virus presents a transition in the perception of deceit. Developers with niche expertise found the means of becoming triumphant con-artists within the digital world. Their victims, now-converted-neophytes, were no longer street-savvy or cynical about the daily encounter with defraudation. On top of it all, the scam had become faceless and unexplained.

Contemporary cyber-crime has changed and adopted new methodologies. The time where computer viruses focused on destroying an individual’s machine is long gone, now the target is set on stealing and using data covertly. Pedestrian grifters matured into corporate workers. The great developer design turns its eyes to the geo-political, and the folklore of the computer virus has turned bureaucratic. Nevertheless, in documenting the online virus past, we can observe how this bewildering threat came to be artistic.

Malware: Symptoms of Viral Infection by Tomorrow Bureau and Bas van de Poelis is available to explore here. All images courtesy of Het Nieuwe Instituut.