Last week, on Tuesday the 15th of May, Activision-Blizzard released Diablo III. Some of you might recall that I once had a crossover story about the Diablo series up on here. So yes, I'm a fan. And yes, I stayed up and participated in the midnight launch event. And yes, I didn't actually get to play the game until an hour later.
People have been waiting for this game for over a decade. Hype was high, expectations were high, tension was high. Everybody expected the greatest game in the franchise, if not Blizzard's history, and were sorely disappointed when it didn't live up to their expectations; such that the backlash from the gaming community has been massive, and thousands upon thousands of people are calling foul, shaking their fists at the sky and asking HOW DARE THEY?
I love the Diablo series, I love Diablo III, and I love Activision-Blizzard. I think they're a great company, and their latest release has been everything I ever could have hoped for.
I have never seen a less-deserving wave of hatred come out of a game's release, and I have never been more ashamed to be a part of this community. Regardless of how disappointed my peers might feel, there's absolutely no excuse to act like this.
This chapter is a commentary on the thoughts that have been swirling around in my head for the past week.
"Why is he doing this again?" Rebecca asked as she stepped up next to Connor Brinkley, who was watching raptly as his best friend prepared to give a speech.
"Mokuba said he's been hearing a lot of bad stuff about Kaiba-Corp's new game," Connor said, quietly and quickly as though he were telling some kind of clandestine secret. "He said he wanted to do something about it. Air things out."
Rebecca frowned thoughtfully as she watched Mokuba step up to a hastily-erected podium. There was a sizeable crowd already, and it seemed like this certainly wasn't going to be the pleasant outing that Mokuba's speeches usually were; the younger Kaiba was usually upbeat and bubbly before a presentation. Now he looked grave. He was breathing too slowly, licking his lips and taking quick, spasmodic sips at a bottle of water near his right hand. He was trying far too hard to be calm.
He waited, along with the rest of the crowd, for about a half-hour. In that time, at least fifty more people showed up, along with the elder Kaiba and his private security. Rebecca tried to think of a time she'd ever seen the man looking more murderous, and couldn't. Seto seemed to be doing his level best to keep his right hand away from the pistol he carried, as though afraid he might draw it out and shoot someone for blinking erroneously if he didn't make a conscious effort.
He stepped up onto the stage with his brother, but stood a few feet behind him. Rebecca realized that he was creating this distance on purpose. She wondered if he was trying to make sure people knew that Mokuba was in charge of this event, and was staying clear so that they wouldn't walk all over him to get at the Big Man. Then she thought it might have more to do with Mokuba himself, as the boy looked over his shoulder, almost pleadingly, at his guardian.
Seto didn't make any sort of response; he didn't even look Mokuba's way. Like keeping his hand off his gun, Rebecca thought this act was deliberate. And she thought maybe Seto was staying away so that Mokuba would rely on his own strength, and pull through on his own.
It seemed cruel, considering the downright predatory looks on many faces in the crowd, but Rebecca thought he must have a reason for it.
At three o'clock on the dot, Mokuba stepped forward and spoke, crystal-clear into the microphone: "Good afternoon, everyone. First, I'd like to thank you all for coming. My name is Mokuba Kaiba, and I'm the vice president of the Kaiba Corporation. I've heard a lot of feedback for Gambit over the past week, and a lot of players have concerns. I wanted to hold this little conference so that you all could tell me, face to face, what you think. Kaiba-Corp is dedicated heart and soul to giving its customers—you—the best games we can possibly make. Since Gambit is the first game I've been directly involved in, it's a very important project for me. So I wanted to address your concerns directly. You've all submitted your comments, so let's start." Mokuba looked down. "…John Asher?" A young man raised his hand. "Thank you. Please, if you could tell everyone why you're here."
"I pre-ordered the digital version of this game, I installed it, and I was ready to play for the midnight launch. And the servers were dead until at least four in the morning. You guys were making this game for three years. You couldn't put some more effort into preparing for launch?"
Rebecca was surprised and impressed that neither Kaiba made any visible reaction. Mokuba said, "We made every precaution we could, and made as many preparations as possible, to make sure Gambit's launch was smooth. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. We're doing everything we can to work out the problems and make sure the game is stable for everyone."
The next person asked: "That's the same thing you said on launch night, and the next day the servers went down for eight hours. Never mind how stupid it is to have no offline option even for solo players, your company's been in the business for how long? And you still can't get things to work right? It's not like you haven't dealt with this before. Hero's Ambition was smooth as silk compared to this one. What's your excuse this time?"
"There were unforeseen problems with Gambit's launch, and I'm sorry about that. Everything should be running smoothly by this evening."
"So what about the fact that we have to log on to your servers even if we're playing single-player?"
"Gambit was always envisioned as a co-op game, with a single-player option. We want to make sure everyone is able to join in multiplayer games as quickly and smoothly as possible. And we want to make sure that we have safeguards in place against pirating and various forms of cheating. As we announced last year during the open beta, connecting Gambit to our servers was the best option available to us."
The questions went on like this, with various complaints ranging from "I can't believe you spent so many years making this, and couldn't find such a huge game-breaking bug. Who did you hire to test this thing?" to "If this is the sort of game we can expect out of KC-Kairos, I'm glad you showed us early, so I can be sure not to waste my money on it."
"…broken, buggy, watered-down…"
"People have beaten it in nine hours. That's pathetic."
"How can you justify charging $60 for this?"
"Leave the games to the people who know how to make them, kid."
"I played it for two hours before I had to turn it off. Sorely disappointed."
And so on. Rebecca's opinion of Mokuba raised several notches as the black-haired boy took each complaint in stride. The barrage of insults and demands would have been enough to make anyone crack, yet Mokuba continued to reply to each person in the same calm, smooth, polite tone. His answers seemed scripted, but he was remarkably well-informed.
One of the late-comers raised his hand.
"Yes?" Mokuba asked, pointing. "You, sir, in the back with the green polo shirt?"
"Hi," said the man, probably in his late teens. "My name is Glen Hersh. I don't know if you remember me, Mister Kaiba, but I lived at the Domino Children's home for six years, after my grandmother died. First, I'd like to thank the Kaiba Corporation for the work it's done on my old home. Really amazing work. Second, I'd like to say that I've been playing Gambit for the past few days, after I get home from school, and I'm having the time of my life with it. I want you to know that I'm not a part of this. I support you, and the games you put out, and I think everyone here who's been bitching and whining should feel ashamed of themselves."
There was a general cry of indignation, but Glen didn't seem to care. He stared straight at Mokuba, ignoring every other face and voice, and smiled. He gave a quiet, encouraging nod.
"I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the game, Mister Hersh," Mokuba said, once security managed to quiet the crowd, "but everyone here is entitled to his or her opinion, and I'm not here to silence anyone."
"People bought this game thinking they were going to get the same quality as Kaiba-Corp's other games. They were expecting a 9 out of 10, and got a 4. We have a right to be disappointed, and to say so."
"Absolutely, you do," Mokuba said, "and I want to encourage everyone here to let me know their concerns. As I said before, player feedback is extremely important to us."
Rebecca raised her hand.
Mokuba blinked. "…Yes? Miss Hawkins?"
"Everyone is entitled to their opinion," she said, "but to give it in such a rude fashion is, frankly, appalling. If this is how my peers are going to act when a company official actually has the decency and the courage to put on such an event as this, then I want nothing to do with any of them."
"Please, I want to emphasize that I don't want anyone criticizing other speakers. This event is specifically for players to have their concerns addressed, not to be attacked or criticized."
"I apologize." Rebecca bowed her head.
The presentation went on for another forty minutes before Seto strode forward. Mokuba looked back at him, then stepped away from the podium.
"That is all the time we have for this afternoon," Seto said, and his voice was a low rumble. "You have all had a chance to have your voices heard. I hope that you've gotten what you wanted out of it."
The insult hidden in those words ("I hope you're proud of yourselves") hung low and menacing in the air. Seto turned on a heel and stalked away. Mokuba said, "Thank you again for coming. The fact that so many of you came here shows that you care about the games we put out, and I want to let everyone know that each of these comments and concerns will be kept clearly in mind as we continue. Have a wonderful afternoon."
Connor and Rebecca met their friend in the parking lot. Connor was grinning. "You were great," he said. "Really."
"Don't let them get to you," Rebecca said, patting the young Kaiba on the back. "Your game is great, and most of us know it. They're just bitter, and have nothing better to do. Anyone can become a whiny, self-important idiot when the log-in screen doesn't work."
"Thanks, you guys." Mokuba smiled, but he looked tired. "Seriously. Thanks a lot. But, um…next time, Rebecca? If you could…you know, not insult our customers? That'd be great."
Rebecca smirked. "I make no promises."
He got into the back of his brother's limousine. Seto glanced at the pair of them, and nodded. It was as much of a compliment as they were likely to get from him, and they beamed at him.
The elder Kaiba brother swept into the vehicle, and the door shut crisply behind him.
Roland Ackerman and Vincent Zika sat on the opposite end of the limousine as the Kaibas, and neither looked at the pair of them. It had been on Vincent's lips to congratulate the boy on a masterful performance, until he got a good look at Mokuba's face.
Not two minutes after Travis had pulled out onto the street, Mokuba started to cry.
Seto wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him close. Mokuba leaned into the man's coat. "It's okay," Seto murmured softly. "You did good, kiddo."
"I just…I wanted…t-to make a game…people would like as much as…as…yours…"
"You did. That was the vocal minority, Mokuba. Most of them are actually playing the game. People are more likely to speak out when they don't like something than when they do. Don't let it hurt you. You did a fine job. Forget them. Remember that Gambit broke preorder records. Remember that the reason we couldn't handle the midnight launch was because too many people wanted to play it."
It did no good. Mokuba continued to sob quietly; every once in a while a long, low wail would wrestle its way unbidden out of his throat, and Vincent flinched violently each time it happened. Roland remained stone-faced.
When Travis reached the Kaiba Estate, Seto quietly led his brother inside with a firm hand on his back, and sent him to bed.
Roland watched as Seto stood, stone-still in the front parlor, and Mokuba shuffled up the stairs. "Sir," he said softly after a minute or so. Seto didn't respond; he kept his back turned, stiff as a board and twice as inanimate. "Master Kaiba," Roland said again.
A full five minutes went by. Roland continued to stand there, waiting, fending off the suffocating tension in the air, waiting for some tell. Waiting for some reaction.
"…He did well. I don't think anyone will question why he's your vice-president anymore. Considering the way they treated him, even I'm surprised. You should be proud, Master Kaiba. We are."
Seto's response was to let out a roar of fury and send his fist through the wall.
