I'm a floundering writer who would love nothing more than to actually be paid one day for something I create. I know, it sounds incredibly brutal and honest, but I'm getting old and tired. I love video games and sleeping.
Sometimes I stare into the abyss of youtube videos and weep internally as a smile creeps its way into my face, a hollow mimicry of what happiness is.
If VGX 2013 is to be classified as an awards show, then I implore everyone to consider Ryse as the greatest, most historically accurate representation of ancient Rome. While most have been quick to call VGX a train wreck, that descriptor is akin to denoting the bombing of Nagasaki as a cloudy day. A better example would be calling this a horse race where all of the stallions shoot out of the gate, immediately break all four of their respective legs, and then cartwheel at top speed towards the crowd.
I am going to delve so deep into the psyche of this show, there will be no point of return. This article shall be a chrysalis chamber, and upon your emergence, you shall gaze upon the Earth in all its pale light and scoff, for you will have understood the Alpha and the Omega of public appearances, and you will have felt the crucifixion of every last pixel in the eyes of our holy Father, Geoff Keighley and the Holy Ghost, Joel McHale. What follows is an in-depth analysis of the VGX 2013 awards show.
The Dusk of Man
The beginning of the event seems standard industry fare. You get an introduction with a contrast rich color scheme that fits right at home on only the most depressing rainbows, and an aggressive invitation to "binge until you bleed" on what is building up to be a sheer cavalcade of incredible content. When the hard rock music stops, the livestream kicks off in what appears to be a steampunk enthusiastís studio apartment. Geoff and Joel are right there to start the festivities, yet when the first word is uttered from VGX's celebrity co-host, one can't help but feel something is off.
Whatever scripted nonsense Joel is being forced to read was written by a recovering alcoholic who hit the bottle when the video game industry originally crashed in the 80's, and never looked up from his brown bag until he stumbled into Spike TV's writing room. The enthusiasm that Joel musters for the opening lines is about as short-lived as a pig with bacon strapped to its ass wiggling around in a crocodile pit.
There are enough excited smiles and gleeful titters permeating throughout the room that it sets the illusion that this year's VGX was put together by competent, happy, albeit somewhat misguided people. The leading premiere of the event was thrown into the fray at around the 4 minute mark, with enough pomp and circumstance to ensure that everyone watching knew this was a terrible idea. For Lo and Behold, Telltale Games had decided to make a deal with the toothless devil of Gearbox studios to collaborate on a new experience.
Had Kevin Bruner been promised limited power and warranty stipulated immortality? Perhaps Randy Pitchford whispered darkly in his ear, letting slip that some mismanaged Aliens: Colonial Marines money had yet to be plucked from the tree. Thus, an unholy union was born, and we now live in a world where a story-driven Borderlands manifested itself in the darkest corner of industry. Even now, it gains structure and form. It will have "Telltale-style combat."
When the trailer was finished, the camera cut back to a living room assembled from the remaining parts of Amelia Earhart's plane. Joel attempted to break the icy formation that had materialized next to Geoff by cracking open a cheerful introduction. Then he asked for the audience to cheer. This was a hideous mistake. The steampunk apartment had no audience to speak of. This is the definitive point where the show became fascinating.
What is the sound of a Randy Pitchford clapping? What is the deafening silence one hears behind the echoing voices of a cavernous dwelling? VGX had become philosophical. GearTale Corp. finished off the interview in a heightened sense of awkwardness as Joel began realizing he had stepped into a nightmarish realm. The rebellion against his Keepers would now commence.
To ensure people bled responsibly while VGX was streaming, the producers decided to break up the video game announcements with some viral video flotsam. A keen internet Captain Ahab had stabbed the bloated carcass of Smosh and laid it out for all to see. The highlight of this little respite was the Asian girl trying her best to cover the lack of passion present in the four malfunctioning acting robots she had rented. VGX returned with a sigh, as Joel continued to chew through the words that the teleprompter was punching in his mouth.