A race car with a dorsal spoiler careened over a jump and passed through a flaming hoop. Then it followed the racetrack in a loop-d-loop and drove through another flaming hoop. Rolando, a video-game tester for Activision Publishing, guided the car via a Playstation 2 controller over a series of flashing, fluorescent arrows that somehow gave it extra speed. He wore a brown, collared shirt, and an excess of hair gel that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. There was no hint of satisfaction on his face when his car finished ahead of his computerized rivals. Tinny victory music played. Rolando took a sip of Mountain Dew and began another race. “I’m trying to unlock all the secret levels,” he said, serious and glassy-eyed.
A video-game tester’s main objective is to identify precisely what causes the glitches that arise in the early stages of a game’s development. Problems can stem from an action as trivial as pressing the “start” button at the wrong time, so pinpointing a bug is an incredibly tedious task. Rolando’s specific assignment was to unlock every secret level using every permutation of car type and character, to make sure the game ran smoothly no matter what. He drank frequently from his soda, and was maybe just a bit over-caffeinated, swiveling rapidly in his leather-upholstered chair.
The testing pit at Activision’s Minnesota headquarters was enclosed by the sound dampening cubicle walls one finds in any office (and, as in any office, the walls did little to dampen sound). Situated in an Eden Prairie corporate mall, near the intersection of Equitable Drive and Executive Drive, this is the home of Activision Value. The games developed here are as addictive as any, but usually they are less known than Activision’s top big-budget creations such as Tony Hawk Pro Skater. Posters pinned high on the walls celebrated offerings like American Chopper, Cabela’s Alaskan
Adventure, The History Channel: Civil War, and American
Chopper II: Full Throttle. There were half a dozen long countertops with three televisions on each, video game consoles connected to the A/V plugs, their power buttons glowing. Empty pop cans and coffee cups were plentiful. Perched on one counter was a family of Star Wars bobblehead dolls. (“We’re comfortable with our nerd level here,” one tester said.) A piñata hung from the ceiling, though no one seemed to know why.
About three-quarters of the forty or so testers had been hired within the last month to comb through games due for release during the holiday season. The majority of them will work the summer and never come back. Many were drawn to the job because it seemed a way to get paid for pursuing what was already a hobby. Others, though, had their minds set on the long term: Rolando recently finished coursework in animation at The Art Institutes International and aspires to design games one day.
It may have been a disappointment, then, to learn that testing is much like any other office gig. True, tattoos and cargo shorts were permissible, and there was a pinball machine in the break room. But, overwhelmingly, the gamers sat quietly at their consoles, staring straight ahead, writing data reports, and, of course, anticipating breaks—during which the main activity was to play still more video games. “Most people end up eating lunch while playing,” said a tester named Reggie.
Across the aisle from Rolando, Annamarie ran a video poker game in several languages to make sure it didn’t freeze when the settings were changed. The only female tester, she wore a purple shirt with lace trim and kept her purse slung over her shoulder. After studying comic art at MCAD, she said she’s still “trying to figure it out,” meaning her career path. The monitor read in French, and Annamarie waited somewhat anxiously, biting her lower lip, as the game loaded. Her chair was pushed so close to the counter it touched her stomach. On screen, a recognizable poker celebrity sat stone-faced, possibly bluffing—it is remarkable how, in these contemporary video games, familiar faces look so familiar. (Although, Reggie said, “No one is sure if the guy who looks like Ron Jeremy is supposed to be Ron Jeremy.”)
The midmorning work break was announced. Some reached for cigarette packs and headed outside, but most gathered near a screen where two testers played a round of Street Fighter II. One employee pulled a Nintendo DS from his
pocket and leaned back in his swivel chair. Annamarie popped Final Fantasy
XII into the Xbox 360 at her workstation; she’d brought the game from home. “It’s my favorite,” she said. A coworker stood behind her, watching silently. Fifteen minutes later, everyone returned to their posts, and the images on their screens changed back to those mandated by their employer.
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