Gentle reader, allow me to suggest that you are like most people (and by employing the modifier “most” I can feel fairly confident that you are) so that, were I to tell you that last year. I was flown to Hollywood and placed in a fashionable hotel for the sole intent of attending an entertainment industry awards ceremony in which I was a nominee, I believe I may safely assume where your deductive reasoning might lead you:
“The Oscars?” No.“Grammys!” No. “The Animal Actors Guild Awards?” Again, no. I tell you truthfully and sincerely, I was an attendee of the first ever G4 / G-Phoria Video Game Awards. “They have an awards ceremony for video games? That sounds kind of…um…weird.” Yes, dear friend, they do, and it is, as you say, a rich and varied tapestry woven of the indefatigable imagination of man. “I didn’t say that.”
My story begins a few years ago when through an unforeseeable series of pratfalls, mishaps and boo-boos, I was somehow cast as the voice of my savings account’s most beloved video game character, “Bentley” from the Sony Playstation 2 super-mega smash “Sly Cooper & the Thievious Raccoonus.” Bentley is a nervously anxious turtle who serves as the eponymous lead character’s assistant and friend, helping to guide him and the player through the many pitfalls and challenges that exist within the intricately crafted worlds designed by the game’s creators, Sucker Punch Productions. Apparently, however, my character was seen by some as less helpful and more, oh, what’s the word? Annoying. In fact, one of the five “Most Annoying Characters of 2002!” as determined by the video game-themed cable TV channel, G4 (I hadn’t heard of it either) who nominated Bentley for the never-before (or since) coveted G-Phoria Award.
Upon news of the dubious honor, my friends at Sucker Punch alerted me to my inclusion in the nominee pool. They were also up for an award themselves in the category of “Best Rookie Game” despite this actually being their second game. But why quibble when on the path to glory or a fraction thereof? Schedules were aligned, plans made, and a few short weeks later, I found myself and my ambassador from Sucker Punch, co-founder Bruce Oberg, outside the prestigious Henry Fonda Theater in Hollywood, about to enter into the unlikely world of a video game awards ceremony.
We approached the reception desk to acquire the uncomfortable fluorescent wristbands we would need to gain entry, and were encouraged not to concern ourselves with the Red Carpet. We were instead pointed in the direction of the main doors just to the left of the desk. Being a curious sort, I ambled over to the Red Carpet area and watched as what passes for celebrities in the video game world were photographed and interviewed. While I was not expecting to see Nicole Kidman (or, even, let’s face it, Lisa Bonet) strolling into the ceremony in an elegant Versace ensemble, I must admit I was hoping for something better than the “World’s Best Quake Player” and the infinitely gross CEO of “Girls Gone Wild.”
(A sidenote: When Bruce asked his contact at G4 what the dress for this function would be, he was given the cryptic and shudder-inducing response, “Gamer Formal.” A phrase which led to Bruce and I being, literally, the only suit-and-ties in a sea of casually buttoned shirts, hanging loosely over factory-battered jeans.)
Upon entering the theater, we were confronted by a pair of knee-high Buddha-lite statuettes offering arcade tokens in their outstretched plaster palms. A moment later, a man in an orange Hare Krishna robe attempted to serve me chicken satay. The waves of bewilderment soon passed as I discovered that the event’s decorator had decided on a generic West Coast / Eastern Religion theme awkwardly coupled with an assortment of game consoles and monitors.
Bruce and I wandered through the theater, eventually making our way up to the rooftop deck where we both engaged in the conversation business. He, with associates of the video game industry and I, with associates of the bourbon industry courtesy of the open bar. Eventually we were instructed that the ceremony was about to begin and our host, TV’s Jamie Kennedy, would be arriving through the lobby and wouldn’t it be great if we all formed a corridor for Jamie to run through, delivering high-fives and whatnot?
Naturally, I agreed and was lucky enough to secure a position that allowed me to make some fleeting palm-to-palm contact with the near-celebrity. We followed our host into the auditorium, which was bordered on three sides with ramped stages, and, contrary to awards ceremony form as I understood it, utterly devoid of seating. The audiences gathered into a cluster to watch Jamie halfheartedly deliver an unfunny monologue to a cameraman standing beside a giant teleprompter.
Pro-skater/video game icon Tony Hawk was introduced and appeared on an opposite stage to present the evening’s first award, which went to the most popular game in the entire historical record, “Grand Theft Auto III.” An actor portraying one of the characters from the game walked on stage and accepted the award in between threats of chainsaw-related violence. At the conclusion of that presentation, someone must have shouted, “Cut!” for our host, the cameramen and crew all departed from the auditorium and I realized that unlike the Oscars, et al., this was not being filmed live. A point made concrete by the interminable delays between awards. Luckily, there was that open bar.
As the awards were intermittently dispersed, a sneaking realization began to dawn. The winners were, without fail, standing next to a ramp to the stage when their names were announced. Enabling them to make a speedy ascent in order to say a brief “thank you” and accept the trophy. A nebulous thought began to form. If I were going to win an award, wouldn’t someone have approached me in order to…?
BUT SUDDENLY! I was distracted by a growing presence on the main stage before me. It made no sense at all and yet there was no way to deny what my eyes were telling me.
It was Public Enemy. I can’t imagine that I will ever again have the opportunity to see the one-time scariest band in America perform “Fight the Power” for a moderately excited group of video game industry professionals engaged in the awkward negotiation between hip-hop dancing and the eating of spanakopita triangles. Thank you, G4, for giving me one of my most cherished memories.
The next few hours were a glacially paced succession of delays, awards, delays, hors d’oeuvres, delays and truly bizarre fan performances to which no degree of authorial ability ever possessed by any human alive or dead could remotely begin to do justice.
We experienced a moment of sadness as our game was beaten out for the Best Rookie Game award by a game of which I can no longer remember the name. (So, take that, other game! Where are you now, huh?) Later in the evening I was briskly rushed to the lobby where I was to be interviewed by a spokesman for the channel. As expected, the rush became a ruse and I was held in waiting for an additional 20 minutes while seemingly higher quality attendees were interviewed ahead of me. Graciously, they asked me to wait very near one of those eminently agreeable open bars.
Eventually I gave my interview in a manner as generous and complimentary as I felt appropriate and was then allowed to return to the auditorium to wait my almost certain defeat. Of course, the show was, once more, in between awards, and the room virtually empty, so I climbed the stairs in search of something in the way of spinach and several layers of phyllo—a mission which was successful but at the cost of giving me a formidable thirst. While retrieving a bourbon and Coke, I felt a gentle pressure on my shoulder and turned to meet the sympathetic gaze of a professional female wrestler with whom I had enjoyed a conversation earlier in the evening.
“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” she consoled.
“Oh, I didn’t?” I replied.
After some confused questioning, it was revealed to me that my award had been presented at the same moment that I was being interviewed in the lobby.
I found Bruce to tell him what had occurred and with a resigned sigh he said some words, which, I suspect, have been heard by countless ears in an innumerable variety of situations. He said, “Well, I don’t really feel like sticking around to watch Flock of Seagulls. Let’s go.”
As we made our exit, roughly five hours after we had arrived, I was handed a white plastic bag containing the following items: a 10” tall G-Phoria “Zen” candle, a red size XXL G-Phoria t-shirt, and a copy of “Ape Escape 2.” A game that has provided me with, to date, 23 hours and 46 minutes of enjoyment.
Therefore, kind heart, I win.
Matt Olsen is currently recording the voiceover for the sequel to the turtle game. His hopes remain high for another nomination.
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