It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Kevin Butler has been the marketing success story of 2010. As imaginary Vice-Presidents go, Butler has somehow managed – through a combination of perfectly-pitched humour and on-target messages – to straddle the great divide; it’s not that 99% of gamers believe that Butler is real, but that we wish deep down that the profit-hunting businessmen running the megacorps atop the ziggurat of our favourite pastime were more like Butler.
We want impassioned speeches which sum up the enthusiasm we have for our hobby, we want humour, the impression that we understand – and are understood by – these alien creatures, when so often that isn’t the case. Whether that’s what the industry needs from these men, the Koticks and Riccitello’s of the world, is an entirely different matter. What Butler has brought into sharp focus is how an expertly crafted marketing push can fill the void Kotick et al are incapable of spanning, and in an industry where brand loyalty forms such a strong part of gamer self-indentification, the man who can achieve that is worth his weight in gold.
But now said marketeer is to be employed by Activision, the Butler effect may be more challenging to achieve.
Mana & I were discussing this whole issue last week, in the current world of instant communication and 24-hour news whether VPs and CEOs need to be both astute businessmen and forward-facing publicity figures. Nintendo of America has Reggie, who seems to walk the line with aplomb, while Satoru Iwata’s regular appearances on the Nintendo Channel speak to an attempt to make Nintendo’s President a more approachable figure. Microsoft seems to cycle through attempts to celebritise their mid-level executives, to varying degrees of success, while Sony struggled with the waning stars of Kaz Hirai and Ken Kutaragi, before switching tack to let Kevin Butler take the strain of the public face, letting the actual executives get on with the running of the company.
The danger to this approach is simple enough; unless the writing and characterisation – not to mention grokking the audience – are pitched to perfection, the message risks coming across as insincere, particularly when the message contrasts sharply with traditional impressions of a company’s working practices. This was the case at the beginning of the PS3 era, particularly in Europe, where the arrogance and downright cockery of Playstation executives successfully undid a good deal of the goodwill left over from the PS2.
In short, we don’t need you to be hip, CEOs. We don’t need you to be down with the kids in their hoods. If necessary, hire someone to entertain us while you get on with the business of making games, ’cause hell, we don’t have the greatest attention spans in the world. Do what you have to, but don’t confuse keeping out of the limelight with an excuse to pour disdain upon gaming culture from your lofty heights.
Or if you do, expect to be called out on it.
As you may not have been able to guess, I’ve recently had the pleasure of playing Dragon Age, a game that deftly mimicks a 12 year old boy’s red crayoned picture of what “cool” violence looks like. Seriously, it’s like my character drunkenly stumbled into a Seven Eleven and got into a slapfight with the cherry slurpee machine; it’s completely at odds with the beige-landscaped, “this is my serious face” intention of the game.
Maybe I’m just not grown up enough to understand the requirements of mature gamers.
Happy July 4th to all you American-types out there… for… uh, yesterday. Frankly, if I’d wanted to pick a day to throw off the yoke of the imperialist oppressor, I’d have made sure it always landed on a Monday, and if the calendar told me that was impossible, I’d have made a new calendar.
Clearly this sort of out-of-the-box thinking is what made me the imperialist oppressor in the first place. Go on, have your celebrations. I’ll be sitting in a darkened room resculpting time itself to my very whim.
Go to www.mariomarathon.com now to watch Day 3 of the Mario Marathon in progress. Donate to keep them playing, stay for the entertainment of a group of sleep deprived brave men grab every star in every Mario game. So far, they’ve made $48,855.83, which is going to Child’s Play, a gamer charity that provides toys to sick children in hospitals.
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