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

I apologize to anyone who may have been waiting with bated breath for my E for All coverage to make its grand appearance, but, the fires across Southern California these past weeks made it nearly impossible for me to sit down and write. Among other things, it was very difficult to make out the words on the screen with my eyes watering due to smoke.

But, I’m back in the proverbial saddle now, and, to accompany the opening of our new E for All photo galleries, what better way to start off our coverage than with a write-up of the event itself?

In short, to corrupt a quote from the late, great Lloyd Bentsen:

I attended E3 for seven years. I knew E3. E3 was a friend of mine. E for All, you’re no E3.

To sum up the overall experience using the simplest analogy I can muster: You know when you visit your local mall, and there are one or two good stores at the ends, with everything in between being either a Sunglass Hut or a Baby Gap?

In E for All’s case, Nintendo and EA provided the good stores at the ends, with THQ, Konami, Namco, and a few others making strong supporting appearances as everything else in between.

The rest of the convention? Roughly as exciting as a visit to the food court.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

In the beginning…

It was only the first day of the con, and I was already over an hour late in my arrival, due in no small part to some of the traffic for which the freeway system in California is so rightly famous.

As I drove—or, more accurately, crawled along at five miles per hour—conflicting visions of impending doom played themselves out in my head:

On the one hand, half of me was certain that I was walking into what would amount to nothing more than Kentia Hall writ large; featuring companies I had never heard of, who were producing games I would never play, complimented only by vendors hawking wares I would not be caught dead purchasing in a million years.

The other half was slightly more optimistic—envisioning more or less the same old E3 as usual, but a more staid affair, with fewer exhibitors and attendees.

The first indication that things were not going to be E3 as usual came as I pulled off the Pico Street exit, rolled straight into the convention center garage with no wait whatsoever, paid twelve dollars to park, and then found a spot directly adjacent to the lobby entrance.

This may not sound particularly unusual to you, but believe me, anyone who has ever had to drive to E3 can tell you differently.

I had to do just that this past year, only to find every parking lot for a mile in all directions filled to capacity. Fifty dollars for a spot across the street from the convention center was not an uncommon sight, and even those spaces were long gone by noon.

My fears only deepened once I got inside… The long rows of badge holder pickup counters were nearly deserted, with only a handful of stragglers here and there being immediately served by a legion of bored-looking convention staffers.

Any given year at the real E3, the badge holder pickup line on the first day would have extended out the door, down the street, and around the block, looping back on itself twice in the process. You could expect to spend anywhere from 45 minutes to two hours just to get to the show floor, depending on how many people “forgot their wallet.” By some uncanny quirk of fate, I seemed to get stuck behind at least a dozen people trying to use that excuse to pick up a holder for a badge with somebody else’s name on it every single year.

There were only two people in front of me once I reached the Media line, but, some things just never change.

“Look, I left wallet at hotel…” insisted the tall Nordic blonde gentleman standing at the head of the line in a heavy Bavarian accent.

The staffer behind the counter could only roll his eyes and issue a weary sigh, “And I suppose you don’t have a business card, a bus pass… anything at all with your name and photo on it?”

“No, sorry. Please, can I have holder now? I have appointment, very soon.”

“And you’re entirely sure this is your badge…” he glanced down incredulously to read off the name, “Maria Hernandez?”

The blonde nodded sagely. “Positive.”

Once more into the breach…

I held my breath as the escalator ascended to the threshold of the South Hall, hoping for the best, while steeling myself for the worst; expecting at any moment for my eyes to be assaulted by banners proclaiming upcoming demos for HiPiHi and Dance! Online.

Instead, what I saw lifted my spirits and drew a broad smile across my face: E3 was back!

Sure, Nintendo didn’t quite have the three story tall fortress of a booth they usually did, and EA was lacking their 9000” wraparound widescreen display, but everything else seemed largely the same:

Row upon row of demo units already set upon by throngs of eager fans, thumping bass mixed with the staccato rhythm of machine gun fire blaring into the hall from every surface capable of mounting a speaker, and, as the finishing touch, someone belting out a horribly off-key rendition of Black Hole Sun from the Rock Band display.

It was looking like the optimist in me was going to win out the day after all.

But, there was no time for confirming this rosy assessment, as a check of my watch revealed that I had less than an hour prior to my 1:30 interview with Josh Drescher from the Warhammer Online team.

I wanted to get some quality time with the game in prior to then to assist in my questioning, so I immediately made a beeline to its display, which easily comprised a full third of EA’s offerings.

Shortly after staking claim to a demo station I made eye contact with a familiar face in the crowd: Juli Cummins, Warhammer PR woman supreme.

We had met each other previously at Games Day LA, so we stopped and exchanged familiar pleasantries, immediately following which I issued a statement I would soon live to regret:

“The more E3 changes the more it stays the same, eh?” I said, nearly shouting to be heard over the din, waving an arm across the vast expanse of flat screen displays as far as the eye could see.

Juli did not seem to share my enthusiasm. “It’s alright up here,” she said, noncommittally, “but it starts to thin out pretty fast once you head towards the back.”

Dear God, how right she was.

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