My afternoon with Jack Thompson

2:52 AM on 10.12.2006   |   Niero

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As you might have heard Dugg, I spent the majority of my Wednesday in a Miami court house with the infamous Jack Thompson as he went head to head with Take-Two and Wal-Mart on the topic of Rockstar's Bully, which goes on sale next Tuesday. Going into this, I didn't know what to expect. No video game aficionado daydreams of an opportunity to sit in a courtroom with lawyers to listen to debates about gaming; I couldn't even wrap my head around it. Beyond expectation, it was not guaranteed that I would even get in the door, as sometimes these things happen in judge's chambers at their discretion. But this was all happening in my own back yard, and I would be a fool to let the opportunity pass. With 30 minutes on the clock to get there, I jumped into my car.

The fuel meter was orange at E already -- I had neglected to gas up yesterday. With a lump in my throat and steam in my gas tank, I motored toward the courthouse in my impotent sports car at an EPA-friendly 20 MPH, A/C off to preserve gas. The sun cracked my forehead in half and I began to sweat in my casual clothing. I made no effort to conceal my identity, I was there to meet people on behalf of this site and discuss the topic to anyone that lent me their ear. Amidst suits and sexy skirts I would stick out like a sore thumb: bright red Destructoid shirt, white open front dress shirt, dirty blue jeans, 3 year old Nike's, and a rubber Xbox 360 fund raiser wristlet that I wouldn't have to remove through security check. Missing the curve to 1st avenue, I parked in the first nearby parking and decided to run the rest of the way. The sign said "$2 for the first 15 minutes, $19.85 max per day". It was cheaper than getting a tow truck to get my car later, so in I went.

Upon arriving to the courthouse and rushing through security I rode up to the 13th floor, an omen I shared with some older gentlemen who made it a point to not make eye contact with anyone else in the elevator. We dashed out and marched down the hall like ants on a straw, as the courthouse was much narrower than it appears from the outside. The building is dated but dignified, and everyone is sitting on crummy worn chairs while a security guard decides who goes where. He has a clipboard with a bunch of names on it. Inside my head, I begin yelling. *FUCK*FUCK*FUCK* A moment passes and I'm before the man with the badge. He's a little shorter than me, gray haired in his 40's with thick eyebrows and a farmer's tan. He has the power to either send me home or make this happen. I hesitate, get a grip, and introduce myself.

Niero: Hi, I'm here about the Take-Two and Wal-Mart trial with Jack Thompson. I run a video gam... (he interrupts)

Guard: Wal-Mart?!! Yeah I saw that, what, some pogo spring is breaking kids legs?

Niero: Heh, it's actually about a controversial video game they're selling. I'm actually here because I run a vid... (he interrupts)

Guard: Oooooooooooh. Ok the trial will be in there, the judge will come in when he's ready. He points. I walk.

The next few seconds I black out a little, because it was a lot to take in. The court room is nearly empty and there are three clusters of people that I can choose to sit near. To my immediate center are two older gentlemen in very nice suits engaged in a conversation that required one of them to make hand gestures constantly. To my far right, there are five or six bored men and women sitting like Greek statues, pretending the hearing is about to start at any moment. To my left, an empty judge's bench and a middle aged brunette court secretary wearing very tight business attire. Before I can fully appreciate that I find myself within feet of a tall gentlemen with silver wavy hair and thin rimmed glasses, a red face, green tie, and a gray suit that is less intimidating but just as formal as the other men's suits.

He is sitting comfortably with another man in casual wear with a gigantic news camera and a folded tripod. They note my approach and both heads turn quickly in my direction. I say "Hey." Jack says "Hiya." Prior to leaving the house I had checked GamePolitics who scooped the story, and sure enough Jack Thompson had sent them an update about his expert witnesses. Destructoid was noted in their description for providing live coverage, so there was a very good chance he knew exactly who I was already. I pulled up a chair two feet away from him and watched them resume their conversation, making no secret of my polite eavesdropping. I immediately caught on that it was about Grand Theft Auto and was brimming with nervousness to get a word in.

Questions, ridiculous questions begin to swash around in my head as they speak. Why this game? Why now? Had he read the reviews? Had he managed to play it yet? Is he aware that the game doesn't have lethal weapons or that you cannot kill another student in the game? How much does he know about Bully really? Is this guy even going to give me the time of day? I’m I actually going to have to fight this guy in a few minutes? These are all things I would have the answers to directly from Jack in a few minutes, much to my surprise.

I lean in closer, anxious to speak, but careful not to ruin my opportunity by saying something stupid (at least, not at first). Jack turns to me.

Jack: "I'm sorry, who are you with?"

Niero: "Destructoid, we're a video game blog."

Jack: "Ah yes, Destructoid. I read about you on Game Politics." Oh shit, I knew it.

Niero: "Yep, that's us." He relaxes and smiles, and shakes my hand. "It's strange you see you in the flesh."

Jack: "See?" Two hands go up towards his hair, and two pointing fingers slowly extend. "I don't have horns."

 He smiles cheek to cheek, and it's genuine. So much for the monstrous being, here's a guy who's comfortable knowing I might be a critic and is giving me the benefit of the doubt. I immediately think back to how well he handled himself against the live G4TV bashing and what not to do. He's willing to debate on the level, nobody is going to have to raise their voices and kick dirt here. This is going to be totally civil and I'm actually (gasp) starting to enjoy this. The cameraman looks on curiously as I jump a seat closer. I fasten my trusty shit-eating grin.

Jack: "Do you live here in Miami?"

Niero: "I do, we're just off Biscayne. I've lived here most of my life." Jack begins to says something, but by this time I'm too preoccupied trying to formulate an explanation of why the hell I'm sitting with him. Whatever he says, it goes in one ear and out the other. I think it was something about his travel schedule or his home here.

Niero: "So I'm here to see what this is all about first hand and bring it back to our readers, who are obviously very interested in how this turns out. I do have some questions for you; I'm not here just to grill you." Jack smiles again, turns toward the camera man and gives him a bigger smile. There is a pregnant pause and a few bored heads turn towards us. Jack is looking at the camera man, but offers one more sentence to me.

Jack: "I can handle a grilling." Fair enough. My two elders resume discussion. They begin discussing a few things about the case and the other peripheral arguments that surround his case that don't specifically have to do with Bully or Take-Two, per se, but more about the flaws of the ESRB and the retail industry in general ... yes, Wal-Mart, but Best Buy and a few other names are thrown around. Age verification processes of retail stores that rely on Debit cards and post-purchase call backs and the various workarounds and flaws of that system are discussed, then he couples it with the fact that retail outlets don't really have a "T" rated policy in place. Yes, you will be carded for an "M" rated game because the clerk will see a big fat "uh oh" on his screen appear, but he mentioned documented instances where a nine year old has purchased a T rated game, and in some poor cases even M rated games. The cameraman, which we'll call Joe from here on out, starts talking about his 18 and 12 year old. I fumble for my portable notebook and begin to jot down some notes.

Enter the Miami Herald: A blonde young woman enters the room, makes some rounds, and ultimately sits near our threesome. She is a clerk with the Herald, a field reporter and tech editor who grew up here and graduated from UF. She's only been with the paper for a few weeks and still uses those old green screen terminals they had when I worked there as an illustrator many years ago. Her name is Bridget, and we exchange business cards and battle scars that people of that 5th story building all go through -- the outdated publishing system, the peculiar people who prefer you only deal with them electronically, the never-ending construction. I brag about Destructoid's recent boom in readership and my tarnished Silver Knight from a century ago, and she pretends to give a crap. We talk about next-gen consoles and how realistic games will get, and how what happens here just sets the stage for future arguments about games that are so lifelike you can't tell the difference. At some point all intellectual conversation ceases and we're craving laptops and Wi-Fi. She's starving and also paying too much for parking, and it dawns on me that she reminds me of my sister. Something out of the corner of my ear pulls me out of my social graces -- they are back on the topic of Grand Theft Auto and it's easing into Bully again. Back to work.

Joe: "But don't you think your talking about games like this only makes the companies more money?"

Jack: "That's true, but Grand Theft Auto had already sold 1 million copies before I got involved. The thought that I could be single handedly attributed to a double platinum sale of that game is absolutely ridiculous. But here's what I always say -- if you feel that something is wrong, you first have to identify it. And that’s all I've done, which unfortunately does get them some free press but it's necessary."

Joe: "So this game is violent?"

Jack: "Very violent."

Joe: "I like racing games ... why ... why can't kids just play sports games or go outside eh? Jeez all this killing and stuff, it's crazy." They notice that I'm leaning over again and both turn to me. "See, we're old guys." Smiles again. For the moment, I'm looking at two average cool dads talking about how things have changed since they grew up, and they're just shooting the shit. In my head I get sentimental because my dad does that and we disagree on a few things. The moment passes. He speaks, gesturing to Bridget and I. "We get it, but these two might say something different."

Niero: "If I may interject, I actually had some questions about your position about Bully. Specifically, to the Grand Theft Auto thing you just mentioned." I begin making whirling hand gestures for some reason. "In Bully, there are no lethal weapons. You can't kill anyone or carry out executions, and I'm sure you're aware of this by now, so what exactly are you referring to when you say it's very violent?"

Jack: "Well, there's a slingshot." His eyebrows move up, my stomach tenses. I successfully contain the nervous chuckle that was just sent up my neck.

Bridget had brought up the Simpsons game on the Genesis earlier, so my mental image of a slingshot is what Bart Simpson has in his back pocket. I quickly look over my notes, think about Bart, and think about what the defense attorneys might say in this very moment. Would they leap all over this? Is this all he has? If I only knew what was coming later in the trial when he brought out the menacing stadium-sized one from his briefcase and made all of us gasp.

Jack: "There are other things too, I believe there's a bat. Anyway, there is simulated violence in this game, which yes, is sanitized, but some experts believe that these simulations are short term behavior modifiers and can actually be worse than the extreme violence like Grand Theft Auto. Simulators like Bully create a way that kids can rehearse violence. The ESRB has this notion that an M rated game is characterized by gore and sex or violence, but they are not taking these other things into account or putting in sufficient safeguards. Did you know Bully received a 15 stamp in the UK? That's their version of our rating system, kids can't buy it there."

Niero: "What about the terms that is being thrown around in some circles as this game being a Columbine Simulator?"

Jack: (smiles) "Yes, that's mine."

Niero: "But there aren't any guns in this game, you can't kill the kids either. In many cases, you're the one being bullied."

Jack: "I'm more concerned about the message of the game and what it's teaching. This is a get-even game.(remember that) The game is teaching our kids that when violence is brought against you, the answer is not to rely on parents or police, but to round up more kids and get even with greater violence. This is gang behavior in a simulated school setting, and I think it represents a danger to the community."

Bridget: "I'm sure we'll go over this later, but have you actually had a chance to play the game?"

Jack: "No, and that's my issue with them. They have time and time again denied me a copy of the game. Look, I'm a sensible guy. If it turns out that I'm completely wrong about this game and there's nothing to it, I'll be the first to say I was wrong and all of this will go away. But they've given the game to the gaming media and published all of these strategic game trailers without The Good Stuff surely found later in the game just as it was with Grand Theft Auto, and ..." Three middle aged people enter the courthouse and begin to shuffle behind us to select the seats in the back of the house, nearly doubling the number of people on our island. Jack apologetically says he needs to stop talking now. "Opposing council?" "Yup."

We all stop slouching, Jack stands up, and we let him pass. It dawns on me how comfortable the four of us were, just chatting away there in the courthouse. Joe gets up and starts talking to the security guy and then begins to rig a tripod to our right. He's carrying a camera that must weigh 80 pounds. Bridget says it looks like a field camera that has survived a few hurricanes and we just kind gawk at it's pathetic and burdensome mass for awhile. "This is why you never see female cameramen. CBS share a news floor with us and they can report live from the Herald if they want to."

We discuss tiny HD cameras briefly and introduce ourselves to the defense attorneys. I hand out teeth, handshakes, and business cards to the three of them. There is a woman with no concern for the beauty industry who seems 100% business, she's a round woman in a no frills navy blue suit. I like her, she seems cool. Next to her is a man a tad shorter than me whom is extremely polished by contrast and is wearing a benevolent smile, eyebrows slightly up, lips puckered as I speak as if at any moment he could say 'OH LOOKIT THE LITTLE BLOGGER AREN'T YOU SO CUTE". I don't hate him yet though. This is the assclown that will later murmur "Lots of press here" rudely at least four times over and over ... but they don't laugh at us. The entire courtroom will eventually laugh at him for comparing the sensation of crushed heads to speed bumps. Dork.

Enter Wal-Mart: The guy next to them in the brown/black pattern suit gives off the only dickhead mega-ego vibe in the room, a smug dry looking fellow who seems annoyed that I'm speaking to him. This guy is who I think about when I think of lawyers. I don't like him. He takes my card anyway. Cool, I give him the benefit of the doubt. I explain what I'm doing there very briefly, and my hands do something while those words come out. I'm still a little nervous, I guess. Bridget tries to get a statement out of them but they just refer her to their spokesperson, and they take a little jab at Thompson who's no longer in the room. The woman says "It's not our policy to comment in the media, we've already submitted our position to the court ... unlike some people." I chuckle in acknowledgement and sit. We wait. My impression is that she seems to be very good at what she does so far. Bridget and I kill time with more stories about work and she runs out to get food and put more money in her meter. I start writing like crazy since I can't talk to anyone at this point. If you're wondering why the hell this post is so long, this is the reason. The trial was supposed to start at 1:30 and it was 2:30 ... so I started writing this like a journal to kill time. Joe comes back and sits where Bridget was to make conversation.

Joe: "What are you writing there, a novel?"

Niero: "Just killing time, really." We both scan the floor with our eyes for common ground. I throw one out there. "Are you a gamer?"

Joe: "Yeah, I like games! We have an Xbox at home, I play Halo with my kids. I have an 18, a 15, and a 12 year old."

Niero: "That's great! So what do you think about this Bully thing?" Joe: "I don't get the violent game thing, I don't like it. You might like it, but me personally I don't like it. I wouldn't even know about this game was coming out had it not been for this trial. Parents don't know that stuff. It just hits the shelf and we have to learn these things our kids know but don't talk to us about. What about Warcraft? My kid plays that. I pay a monthly fee for it but I don't even know what all is in it. I see a little bit but I'm not there all the time. Who has the time? Also, if my 18 buys a game, chances are my 12 is gonna be there on the sofa with him sooner or eventually pick it up when nobody is around. It's hard."

Niero: "Oh, Warcraft? Simulated violence, elves and dwarves, Dungeons and Dragons type stuff. There's some violence but it's all clearly in a fantasy world..." We're interrupted by a stunning woman in red that enters the room. That is to say she hasn't interrupted us at all, but we now have something more entertaining to look at than my far-reaching conversation. She's the polar opposite of the woman sitting silently behind me and they soon clash as she tries to get a statement from them. She is the anchor of the news station and gives them a chance to comment. They decline. She leaves the room with the camera guy, then Jack comes back and she begins to interview him. Bridget comes back and I point out the anchor. The court secretary is all over the place with her tight white outfit and I'm trying not to get caught looking at the Milfs. Just when I was about to break down and dash out to Wendy's for something fried to throw in my now 3pm empty belly, the judge walks in.

At long last, we all rise. Judge Friedman enters and we all silently brace ourselves for what is to come.