E for All Editorial: You, Sir, Are No E3

By Steven Crews | November 3, 2007 | | Filed under: Features

Heading towards the back…

Returning to the hall following my interview, I soon found that once you ventured past the bulwark of big names stationed at the entrance, you ran smack dab into a wall of obscurity, mediocrity, and a half dozen other –ities I don’t have time to whip out my thesaurus to reproduce in full.

One of the starkest examples of this was a booth situated across the way from Nintendo… In years past, hundreds of thousands of dollars would likely have changed hands, and men ordered killed in the competition over such prime real estate.

This year, said real estate was occupied by an energy drink company I had never heard of, who were handing out free samples of their product in your choice of two delicious flavors: battery acid, or unsweetened cough syrup.

A good deal of the rest of the booths seemed to be dedicated, in part or in whole, to either Rock Band, Guitar Hero, or DDR, with the slack taken up by vendors of various stripes. Among the latter, for some bizzare reason, was even a jazz pianist who, as far as I could tell, knew about as much regarding games as my grandmother, and was there solely to promote her new CD.

Suffice it to say, things were looking grim.

If they had at least tried to go for quantity over quality they may have still been able to pull things off, but, only a quarter or so of the South Hall was actually filled with any sort of content at all.

The rest was partitioned off as either the “Major League Gaming Tournament Arena,” where nothing ever seemed to be occurring, a vast seating area for the hot dog vendors at the periphery, or, most embarrassingly of all, simply hidden behind opaque black curtains, so that attendees were unable to see the nothingness which existed beyond.

Crowd size seemed to roughly parallel the content at hand, with what I would estimate to be fewer than 10% of the attendees of any given year’s E3, spread thinly across the various exhibits.

There are, of course, upsides to everything. Less people meant that you could, in a refreshing change of pace, actually play the games that were on display, rather than standing and watching someone else do so for five hours… if you could even see the screen, through the two dozen people waiting for their turn.

But, there were also far fewer games on display to begin with, so although you may have gotten some stick time in where you would be unable to do so in the past, the odds of any particular game you were looking for being there were likely slim to none.

Personally, I saw just about everything I wanted to and was ready to depart—never to return—after roughly three hours. But, as I had a job to do, there was no such luxury.

Just then, I remembered a line from the official website stating that they were opening up Kentia Hall to vendors, and decided to head down there to see if perhaps I could locate some diamonds in the rough.

For those of you who have never been, Kentia, in general, was where games either went to die or never get started in the first place. It was always the last hall you visited and the first one you left.

Foreign developers, indies, and companies fallen on hard times rubbed elbows with vendors selling everything from racing seats to mind control helmets.

The primary attractions most years were the full bar and retro gaming museum located at its center.

For those who have been, did you ever wonder why they always had that sickeningly bright yellow carpet on the floor, and puffy cloth sleeves around the structural columns?

I got to find out.

Kentia, it seems, doubles as a parking garage when not in use… which immediately became apparent upon stepping off the escalator and rounding the corner to where the entrance normally is, only to find someone’s Range Rover in front of the door.

The carpet serves to cover up the lines on the concrete, and the sleeves conceal the numbers indicating which section you’re in.

I actually parked in there on day two. I think my space was right about where the Dark and Light booth was last year. Truth be told, my truck was likely making better use out of it.

Some of you will likely have deduced the point I’ve been trying to make with this anecdote by now, but, for those who require a slightly less subtle explanation: KENTIA WAS CLOSED. THEY MOVED THE VENDORS UPSTAIRS AND COULD STILL ONLY FILL 25% OF THE SOUTH HALL.

Granted, I’m no expert on convention organizing, but I think it’s safe to say that when even the companies with names no one can pronounce who produce bootleg NES consoles for the Chinese market don’t want to show up, you have a serious problem.

Come on, it couldn’t really have been that bad…

The convention was, of course, not without its moments… Such as when a high school marching band decided to strike up a tune in the foyer during my Warhammer interview, or when the guys from K2 Network and I hijacked a vacant meeting room overlooking the show floor after finding their booth to have poor acoustic qualities.

And, I got to meet some interesting people. Not the least of which was Eelke Folmer, an associate professor at University of Nevada, Reno, whose work involves making games accessible to people with disabilities. He had a number of contraptions to that end on display, such as a rig which allows quadriplegics operate a PlayStation controller with only their mouths. But, for my money, the most interesting of them all was a large yellow button which had no immediate purpose I could discern…

When I inquired about it, he made the remarkable claim that they had made Half-Life 2 playable with that button, and only that button.

“The character moves and aims automatically, and the button fires, so it really becomes sort of a timing game,” he explained.

I had to hand it to him, if I lived for a thousand years I don’t think I would have ever come up with that particular solution.

IGDA is evidently assisting his research, which made me feel proud to be a member. I know I wouldn’t suddenly stop being a gamer over a minor setback like breaking my spine in a dozen places, and, thanks to people like Eelke, I will be able to carry on raiding from the hospital bed in my long-term care facility.

All good things must come to an end…

To cap off this most wondrous of conventions, I came down with a severe case of food poisoning early on Saturday morning and was forced to reschedule the remainder of my interviews. I have a sneaking suspicion that my illness was caused by the hors d’oeuvres served by Sprint at their Friday night media shindig, which appeared to have been sitting out in the open without heat or refrigeration for the better part of five hours.

But, I am willing to forgive and forget… even as they poisoned me, Sprint was doling out free tickets to one of the major redeeming features of E for All: Video Games Live.

I say this without hesitation: If Video Games Live is ever playing in your area and you have the opportunity to see them, do it.

Tommy Tallarico and Jack Wall know how to put on one hell of a show. You have not lived until you’ve heard the theme from Civilization 4 performed by a full orchestra with a choir covering the chants, and the score from Halo was so rousing I think people were just about getting ready to jump out of their seats and start killing each other in the aisles.

I’m not just saying that because I got a free ticket, either. Believe me, I paid all night long in the bathroom.

Closing thoughts…

In the end, all that I can really say about E for All is that, for whatever my opinion is worth, I was sorely disappointed.

I only pray that next year, the exhibitors who conspired together to scuttle E3 That Was will come to their senses and realize something:

Yes, it cost you millions of dollars to set up extravagant booths which rivaled the Las Vegas strip, and screwed up your production schedules as you frantically tried to push “E3 builds” out the door, but that was no one’s fault but your own, and your overriding obsession to keep up with the Joneses.

Most of us didn’t care which one of you had the largest booth, the loudest music, or the most scantily clad women. We were there for the games.

We would have come if you had nothing but an old black and white TV with rabbit ears sticking out of the back, as long as it was hooked up to an Xbox running a prerelease copy of Halo.

I don’t doubt that E3 may have been getting out of hand—and had been for years—but this is cutting off your nose to spite your face.

If E3 was the eight hundred pound gorilla in the living room of gaming, E for All was a mouse whimpering in the basement.