Ed. Note: The grand showdown of the video-game world is the annual E3 convention. Manufacturers and developers converge in Los Angeles to show off their upcoming titles in an effort to win good buzz, which can mean life or death in this brutally competitive industry. This piece is a look at the convention when it was last held in Atlanta. You might expect a story about video gaming circa '98 to be horribly out of date, considering the electron-quick pace of change in the industry. Indeed, a lot of the titles referenced here already seem quaint, and the two companies whose reps I talked with are out of business. (CyberFlix, a gaming company that vowed to create movie-like adventures with RPG elements, only had one solid hit: Titanic: Adventure Out of Time; and the entire universe of Voodoo graphics-chip acceleration went kaput along with 3Dfx.) But the issues raised here haven't changed: What makes for good gameplay, and why can't designers figure it out before heaping on the graphics?

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I'm standing in a pit of angry nerds.

We're wedged together shoulder to shoulder in one corner of the cavernous Nintendo pavilion, waiting for the giant Pokémon Pikachu to belch forth its treasures. My compatriots shuffle in place, muttering impatiently to each other, clutching their plastic bags full of swag, eyeing their digital watches. "When's it gonna start?" one demands. The inference is implicit: There's so much else to do here. All around us, video monitors expel a multicolored miasma of bug-eyed creatures, attacking spaceships, and violent explosions–each accompanied by the thunderous, soul-shaking din of amplified destruction and thumping soundtracks. Hundreds of other geeks stand mesmerized at the game stations, controllers in hand, driving, shooting, jumping, running, flying, swimming, hitting…And here we are, just standing around.

Suddenly, a dry ice fog curls its way around us, a tinkly theme song blares over the P.A., and Pikachu comes to life. Its cute cartoon eyes glow, its plastic yellow skin lights up, and the huge red-lipped mouth begins to move.

"It's Pokémon!" a female cartoon voice declares. "Catch ’em if you can!"

And then, BERRRAP!, dozens of Pokémon toys explode from its gaping mouth, raining free plastic crap onto the ravenous crowd. Hundreds of hands shoot into the air, vainly grasping at the packages as they descend onto the floor. The hundred-odd geeks then dive as one to the carpet, scrambling to snag a tiny Pokémon doll. Pokémon, by the way, is a Game Boy game that hasn't even been released in the U.S. yet, and Pikachu is its most popular character. Never mind–this is FREE, and it could be collectible if the thing becomes a hit like it is in Japan.

Finally, as the blood scent fades from their fevered brains, the boy-men pick themselves up off the floor and make their way back to the video stations. Their typical uniform consists of patchy facial hair, pale complexions, and gaming-company T-shirts–the older the shirt, the more respect is commanded (the oldest I spot is an Atari shirt of early ’80s vintage). Sleek blonde models attired in silvery Nintendo team jackets await them, ready to answer their questions and smile sweetly, looking for all the world like pert Pan Am stewardesses from 1962.

Truly, this is a geek wonderland: unlimited video games, hot babes, and rock ’n' roll. In fact, 30,000 of these professional nerds have congregated here at the Electronic Entertainment Expo (E3) from around the globe, breathing in the sweet euphoria of their favorite pastime as EMF radiation tingles in the smoky air, reveling in the white noise of pixilated adventure roaring overhead. For these four days in May at the Georgia World Congress Center in Atlanta, geeks rule the world, their every whim catered to by large, multinational corporations. For it is in their twitching thumbs that billions of dollars are to be made; their reactions to this glimpse into the near-future of video gaming will supposedly decide fortunes, help determine winners from losers, and foster growth in the $5.6 billion video game software industry.

But I've got to wonder: Are any of these games really fun?

This is my mission: To find a new video game I can love. And at E3, there are plenty to choose from; approximately 1,600 titles from 440 exhibitors are being demonstrated in 534,000 net square feet of exhibit and meeting room space. This would be the equivalent of 35 football fields, every inch of it bleating, screaming, and rocking to techno metal soundtracks. These are the games to be released in the coming year, particularly during the crucial holiday shopping season when the major video game companies duke it out on a variety of gaming platforms to rake in Christmas cash.

Many a hard-core video game geek would pay high dollar to be allowed entrance into this legendary Mecca of digital excess; but this convention is for professional geeks only–developers, retailers, publishers, programmers, marketers, and the media. No one under 18 is allowed in, and plastic ID cards are brandished around necks like badges of protection. With my "MEDIA" credentials dangling, I feel as if I've been anointed with the keys to the kingdom–with but a glimpse at my ID card, company moguls will surely be handing over stacks of their games for my review. Would it be out of the question to pick up a free Playstation or Nintendo 64? Some peripherals, perhaps? I look forward to backing my car up to the gate and opening the trunk.

I soon discover, however, that as far as small potatoes go, I am but a French fried crumb. Here, the media big dogs go by the names of Next Generation, PC Gamer, Electronic Entertainment Monthly, Gamefan, Gamers' Republic, etc. My badge does little more than allow me to wait in many different lines to briefly play the latest in video game design, titles like Metal Gear Solid, Diablo II, The Legend of Zelda, Rogue Squadron, Trespasser, and, most ubiquitously, Space Bunnies Must Die. Space Bunnies Must Die is everywhere, its posters of a gun-wielding, pig-tailed babette adhering to every available surface in the World Congress Center. I follow the trail of come-ons to the Panasonic section for a demonstration–who is this intergalactic valley girl, and what is a space bunny? What I find is a Vegas showgirl act.

Next: In Search of Thumb Candy

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