Long gone are the days of skipping school, Centipede, and mall arcades. Today, guys like Tim Ceron (above) usually score at home, Xbox-style. But even the modern hardcore gamer is a social animal at heart. On Tuesday, GameRiot, the world�s biggest video game festival, brought its sexy arcade to La Zona Rosa on its spring tour, complete with a smoke machine, buxom blondes, and a cheeky British emcee. Several new titles were available for play, including Electronic Arts� Battlefield Vietnam and Epic Games� Unreal Tournament 2004. Sponsored by Spike TV, GameRiot awarded Ceron, victor of the evening�s Tony Hawk Underground competition, software and a gentle flanking by the GameRiot girls, whose combat boots distracted few as they mingled among the 30 high-end Alien Ware PCs and multiple Xboxes set up about the venue. The event, which toured with Lollapalooza last summer, was a LAN sausage fest with lackluster attendance. (I counted just five females besides the ones paid to look purdy.) Sure, the bar didn�t serve much booze, but it�s the thought that counts. GameRiot is a savvy concept. Games deserve play spaces as hip as their Trent Reznor soundtracks, and they don�t have to be played solely by myopic boys in suburban lairs, either. Trouble is, lairs are just so comfy.
This article appears in April 2 • 2004.