The whole event would be sixty hours long, the doors locked so no one could escape. Six hours alone would be devoted solely to Skyrim mods. Day two would begin with an elaborately choreographed breakdance fight between Mark Rein and Cevat Yerli. Every few hours, Peter Molyneux would fly above the crowd on Santa’s sleigh, throwing gift-wrapped presents to everyone below. The boxes would be empty.
Then, when all seemed finally finished – when the staffs of Gamespot and IGN had started eating each other, when a barter economy had been founded based around free USB sticks with press assets on them – Gabe Newell would step out on stage. The rabble in the audience would briefly stop and fall silent.
Gabe wouldn’t say anything. He’d simply stand there. A minute would pass, then two, and then a button attached to a podium would be wheeled out in front of him by previously unseen lackeys. He’d raise his arm high into the air and then slam it down onto the button. Screens behind would start to flash, so bright and quickly it would take a moment for anyone to read the words they were displaying.
“HALF-LIFE 3 IS OUT NOW.”
No trailer, no hype, no more waiting: just instantly available to buy and play via Steam at that very moment. Mad with hunger, thirst and the need to bathe, the assembled press and unfortunate onlookers would start to frenzy. Hugging, crying, screaming, fighting for no reason.
When the rabble again started to die down, a few people would notice that Gabe hadn’t moved. He’s still up on stage, still standing in place, still without having spoken. Only now there’s a second button in front of him attached to a separate podium no one noticed being wheeled on. Gabe’s hand goes up, Gabe’s hand smashes down.
“HALF-LIFE 4 IS OUT NOW.”
The screens are flashing again, and a few people start to cheer and clap. Some people look pretty confused, but they go with it. Hey, it’s great.
Meanwhile, six more buttons are wheeled out on stage. One by one, Gabe hits them. HALF-LIFES 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 AND 10 ARE OUT NOW. Some people in the crowd are laughing, but there’s a wave of real fear spreading across the group. More buttons keep being wheeled out. They now line the stage, and Gabe is running down the rows slamming them one by one. When he finally reaches the last button he stops.
He turns towards the audience and opens his mouth as if to finally speak, but his lips stretch beyond their natural limit, his jaw pops off with an audible snap, and his beard ignites into flames. Games start flying out of his mouth into the audience. Tens of games, hundreds of games, thousands of games. Some are more Half-Life sequels, but there’s others that are train simulators and hidden-object games, games about walking around and games about shooting men, games about racing cars and games about breeding horses. People are screaming, running for cover.
A booming voice resonates across the room, coming from everywhere and nowhere. It screams.
YOU DON’T NEED E3. YOU ALREADY HAVE SO MANY WONDERFUL GAMES TO EXPLORE.
No one escapes.