Got Game
With the new Sony PlayStation 2 on deck.POCKSTAP
GAMES—the designers behind Grand Theft Auto—
are ^tmnin^ to steal the show. BY NOAH P0B1SCH0N
Aimee sweet, august
1998’s Penthouse Pet, is
looking at us...again. Since
the June 14 Pet of the Year
party at Manhattan’s Saci Club is
peopled by, well, me and a gaggle of
middle-aged ad sales doofs in knockoff
suits pretending they aren’t married,
she must be eyeing Kevin Gill. He’s the
only 6'4" bottle blond wealing a dragon
print shirt, and a distinctive silver ring
imprinted with a star dangling off the
letter R—the logo
of Rockstar Games,
New York City’s hip
pest videogame de
sign company.
Gill isn’t a typical
product manager,
but his attention
getting style typifies
Rockstar Games.
Formed in 1998 by
transplanted Brits
Sam Houser; 28, and
Terry Donovan, 29,
the company turns
out games with the
rebellious panache of
a Sub Pop or Matador
Records (hence the cocky name). The
soundtrack for their 1999 release
Thrasher: Skate and Destroy grooves
through the last 20 years of rap, from
the Sugarhill Gang to Gang Starr.
Their game concepts—Grand Theft
Auto has players hijacking cars while
running gangland errands—are as
disturbingly tantalizing as their up
coming line of T-shirts (one features
stars from an American flag pouring
out of a red-and-white-striped gel cap).
Then there are the
infamous Rockstar
Loft parties that are
held every so often in
some newly discov
ered Manhattan
space, feature top
shelf DJs, and are so
popular that 5,000
people vied for the
1,000 tickets to the
one this past March.
And while many com
panies are simply
rehashing their hit
titles for the Oct. 26
U.S. launch of Sony’s
PlayStation 2, Rock
HAVE CARS, WILL TRAVEL
Rockstar's 'Midnight Club
and 'Smuig^ler's Run'
I N T E R T A 1 N M E N T WEEKLY
*
*s<
Donovan and Houser
\
PHOTOGRAPH BY SILVIA OTTE
h
star is hatching two original games.
At Roekstar HQ, just above the
Guggenheim SoHo in Manhattan,
Gill—who scored only Sweet’s auto
graph in the end—is at the PS 2
controls, showing off his favorite
trick in the new game Smuggler's
Run. The goal is to pick up con
traband—DNA, medicine, explo
sives—and move it between Mex
ico, the U.S., and Canada, while
steering clear of competing couri
ers, the border police, and the CIA.
(“I wanted pounds of Colombian
powder,” says Houser. “But Sony
had issues with that.”) Gill ignores
the game’s objective and drives into
an adobe-brick-perfect Mexican
village. The vaqueros run, but Gill
rams one from behind, sending him
high into the air. He lands headfirst
in the red-tinted sand, legs kicking
aimlessly back and forth. Chasing
down bystanders “is like a game
in itself,” chuckles Gill, as the un
bloodied vaquero pops out of the
hole and walks off into the desert.
Smuggler’s Run is about as sub
tle as MTV’s Beach House, which
helps explain why the cable net
signed a four-year exclusive agree
ment to let Take Two Interactive,
Rockstar’s parent company, publish
games based on its shows. There
are deeper connections as well:
Terry Donovan’s father directed
the video for Robert Palmer’s
“Addicted to Love”—you know,
the one with the tres chic mini
skirted babe band—and Sam
Houser was also a music-vid cre
ator. Still, they’re an odd team.
Donovan, a DJ and former A&R
man, is soft-spoken with a shaved
head and a fan of techno, house,
and nuevo rock, while hyperactive
Houser, with a beard and shaggy
mane, collects obscure ’60s rock.
When it comes to games, though, their
sensibilities match perfectly. “The
average age of the videogame play
er worldwide now is over 20,” says
Donovan. “They’re being spoken to
as adults by the movie industry,
the music industry, the fashion in
dustry, so why should we treat them
as children and give them a game
about head-chopping dragons?”
Hence the unapologetic mayhem
of Grand Theft Auto, which has been
spun into a series of games that net
ted $50 million last year, and Midnight
Club, the second new title for Play
Station 2. Midnight is based on illegal
street-racing gangs in Japan, and the
duo sought out real Tokyo racers—
usually high-powered businessmen
who spend tens of thousands tricking
out classic cars—to license their gang
names and logos. Most said they were
honored, but couldn’t take pail—they
did help out, though. “We have li
censes from all the car-tuning shops
around the world,” says Houser.
Which means that the low rider skid
ding across neon-lit 42nd Street looks
and handles differently than the
souped-up Honda Civic look-alike zip
ping through Trafalgar Square. And
the graphic subtleties blow the old
PlayStation to bytes: The cars reflect
the multicolored street lighting, which
changes when you hit a lamppost.
One day, Rockstar wants to see its
action-movie-inspired games—none
of which have cracked the annual top
10 best-sellers list—on film or TV.
But for now, Houser is busy working
with the designer of the new T-shirts.
And Donovan is happy lining up the
house-music soundtrack for Smug
gler’s Run and searching out a lo
cation for the next Loft party. No
date’s been announced yet, but Gill
will be there—just look for the big
blond in a dragon-print shirt. • • •