While Rabid Ferret and I took great exception to not being invited to E3 as VIP press members, we can’t say we’re surprised. After all, our site traffic, impressive as it may be, is probably only 60% the volume seen by larger media venues such as Kotaku and Destructoid.* Regardless, we were still a little sad Nintendo didn’t extend a welcoming hand to us for its 2011 press conference. After all, I owned a Nintendo Wii for almost eight straight months!
Knowing full well the Big N would be unveiling a new system this year, Ferret convinced me that we could get in. “WiNG, I believe in hopes, dreams, and the endless power of the human spirit,” he said.** “I know we can get in if we try.”
Staring into his soulless “eyes” I could feel the universe unraveling around me. Behind him, the hordes of “journalists” crowded Nintendo’s doors at the Nokia Theater. This would be tough, but if anyone could do it, I could. I had the wit, the charm, and the humility to succeed.
I crossed the street and stepped directly into the path of an oncoming taxi.
Not the best start, unfortunately. Ferret shook his head and pointed out that there was a crosswalk, and also that there was a sign saying “Please use the crosswalk.” I disregarded it on my second attempt, since I’m not one to cater to signage that unabashedly discriminates against the illiterate. We made it to the Nokia Theater line quickly with the vast majority of our limbs in tact, thank you very much.
Everyone around us looked like a real video games journalist. They toted expensive cameras, were covered in
bribes swag from earlier events, and all glowed with what can only be described as pre-press release hype. Worse, they all bore Official Nintendo E3 Press Event passes, something we clearly lacked. Ferret led us to the desk where passes were being validated into wristbands (because clearly passes are not inherently sufficient verification of owning a pass).
He asked the Nintendo employee if we could have wristbands. He might have asked for just one, but I can’t be sure. Either way, she referred us to another booth, the Press Event pass booth. We scurried away quickly to what would be our final obstacle.
The Press Event pass booth was formidable. It was surrounded by paper and well-organized computers, all completely unguarded. While I contemplated using my cell phone’s reflective screen to blind the booth attendants and stealing a badge, Ferret had the “conscience” to simply approach the attendant and ask her if we could be admitted. “I’m sorry, but unless you were invited weeks ago,” she said, “you can’t go in today. Sorry.”
I looked deep into her eyes. They were full of thoughts, memories, and emotions. In other words, she wasn’t a paid model; she was a human being with fears, anxieties, and weaknesses. She was someone who may or may not have been fond of My Little Pony during her youth. Summoning my greatest courage, I opened my mouth and communicated with a female.
“You don’t understand,” I said in my most serious, stately voice. “My father and Shigeru Miyamoto were raised in the old country together. It is there that they formed a blood pact between their clans. I am honor bound to attend this event.”
“I’m sorry but-“
Her fate was sealed. I spoke again, “If we are not permitted into this event, I am duty-bound to commit ritual suicide here at the Nokia Theater. I will have brought endless shame upon myself and upon my clan. If that is what you wish.”
Ferret stepped forward, “We won’t tell anybody.”†
Something changed inside this woman. Perhaps a seed had taken root and her mood shifted as the seeds of life elevated her to a new plane of understanding. Or perhaps she just thought our joke was funny. She glanced in both directions. “Fine… just don’t tell anyone it was me.” She printed two Press Event passes and handed them to us quickly.
Kalee, kallah! What exceeding joy! We bounded through the parking lot, redeeming our passes for wristbands. We scurried into a line that was already moving quickly along. It would only be minutes now until we saw what could become known as the Wii U! We ran into the auditorium, being advised about “There are only obstructed seats remaining” and “blah blah running patrons blah summarily tazed blah on sight blah blah.”
We rounded the corner, slipped down the stairs, and took our seats. The view was breathtaking.
* Based on a recent article in Convenient Theories for You Magazine.
** He said nothing of the sort.
† Other than the thousands of people who read our site.