Invasion of the Future Box

Around 1990, all of us Lucasfilm employees were called into a big meeting to discuss some recent layoffs at ILM. People were worried about the future, so the President of the Lucas companies got up to tell us about it. (Not George. It was this other guy who wore sweater vests a lot.) The question most people seemed to have about the future was something like “Do I have one? Does it involve bagging groceries?” But President Sweater Vest wanted to talk about the future of entertainment. Management had discussed it at length, and decided that many things about media were uncertain. But the one thing they all agreed upon was this: In the future, there would be a box on top of your TV, and entertainment would come out of it.

“We don’t know what exactly this box will be, or who will make it, or if you’ll own it or rent it, or if the entertainment is going to be movies, or games, or something else, but we know it will be some sort of... box. And it will be on top of your TV.” A couple of weeks later this guy would resign. And we the employees would shout: “Yeah! You take your sweater vests and your layoffs and your future box, and you get out of here!” But now I feel bad because I think — with the exception of the location of the box — that he might have been right. I might have one of those future boxes in my living room right now.

More annoying than the thought of the Sweater Prez being right is the thought of Microsoft marketing being right. Not that they aren’t usually; most of the time, they’ve got me pegged. When my extreme friends and I are chillaxing at home, holding skateboards in one hand and using the 360 controller in the other hand to pull off hardcore headshots, I often wonder: Does Microsoft have a security camera in my house?

(Okay, here’s a realistic picture of me playing Gears of War on a typical night: bathrobe, beard stubble, my feet on a coffee table covered with dirty dishes, a stupid-looking telemarketer’s headset on my head, and nerd glasses on my face because my contacts became too dry from my allergies to the small kitten sleeping next to me on the couch. Warning: This kind of hardcoreness is not a setting; it’s a lifestyle.)

That's right. Tim Schafer just pwned you. In a bathrobe.

But here’s the thing: I love my effin’ 360. (And not just because it finally plays Psychonauts. But woo for that.) I think the single greatest achievement of the Xbox is not its performance or any of the fancy graphics features, but in how I interact with the machine. The relationship you have with your Xbox is the most next-gen thing about it.

How I play it is this: I flop down on the couch — in a really athletic cool way — and I turn on the 360. I look to see if any of my friends are online and I look at what they’re playing. Then I see what new Xbox Live Arcade games, or demos, or videos are available to download. And then — and only then — do I start to figure out what I’m going to play. Am I up to the challenge of finally getting General RAAM stuck behind that second concrete cube so I can kill him like the cheater I am and earn that damn Achievement for playing through on Insane? Or do I just want to relax with some Hardwood Hearts? That New Age pirate music really helps me settle down for bed, you know.

That thought process isn’t so new, but the order of the thought process is, at least to me. I’m turning on the machine before I know what I’m going to play. Instead of thinking, “I’m going to play Gears of War,” I’m thinking, “I’m going to play some Xbox.”

Oh god. They won.

Tim Schafer and the gang at Double Fine Productions are forever in our hearts for making Psychonauts; Sierra is publishing their next project, Brutal Legend. Visit doublefine.com to read Tim’s blog and buy autographed copies of Psychonauts.