Since I got back from the press tour, I’ve been sneezing and sniffling and coughing up a STORM. It’s late, and constructing complete sentences is an agonizing labor. I try to post twice a week – we’re gonna be a tad late this week.

For the record, I always get sick after a big tour like this. I’m such a natural introvert, that the amount of energy expenditure it takes to do these shows is huge – so when I get home, I fall apart. Happens pretty much every time.

Anyway, I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow, hopefully. Apologies.

I’ve never had a response to anything I’ve written like the response I got to my last blog post.

The topic, if you don’t know (or if you’ve just forgotten – yeah, I *knew* you were drunk when you were reading it), was how weird it is to be on the broadcasting end of the “celebrity experience”, instead of the receiving end. Not weird in a “this sucks” kind of way – but weird in a “I hope this means that you guys & gals like the work” kind of way.

Boy. I got some responses.

I’ll spare you the detailed breakdown – though it makes some interesting reading, if you’re into that. The short version is that the word back was “man, we think you should enjoy it, and keep moving.”

Good advice, I think…

…but still. Gotta tell ya. It’s all rattling in my noggin a bit.

To make matters weirder, the Internet has exploded with reviews and interviews. Now, what’s unbelievably awesome is that they are all (in general) positive. Still, though.

Still.

…

I want to go off on a tear here for a second. Because…

…well, because interfacing directly with fans (on Facebook, on the Red Steel 2 forums, on Twitter, in person… they’re everywhere, man!) has, so far, been an absolutely mind-meltingly, life-changingly, consciousness-alteringly awesome experience.

Why? Well, see, it actually was impossible three, maybe even two years ago, what’s happening right now.

See, before, when one released a game, the communication pipe with the people who would eventually play the games that you spent those long months and years tending to was long, convoluted, many-staged, heavily-policed… and, generally, one-way.

Here’s how it used to work:

1. I would sit in a room, generally somewhere in the studio.
2. A representative from the (current) company would deliver members of the press to said room. Conversation would ensue.
3. Later (often much later), a written summary of the encounter would appear in some printed form.
4. I would read said summary… aaaaaaaand wish I could say something in reply.

That was it.

Now, however, it seems to work more like this:

1. I sit wherever I damn well please. Usually, I’m at a computer: at work, at home (like now), or in a hotel room, but sometimes it is still face-to-face.
2. Members of the press — or, actually, anyone with an Internet connection — pose questions and/or make statements about the game. Or anything they have in mind.
3. I respond. Often immediately.
4. Repeat steps 2 and 3 until someone gets bored and leaves.

You might expect that this might lead to Internet tousles. World’s full of trolls, you know, and people can be–

Nah.

So far, what I’ve found is a bunch of incredibly enthusiastic, fun, thoughtful people who can’t wait to play a cool game. And, even if that isn’t what the world is filled with, that is what I choose to see. Take THAT, trolls!

So, what’s it like to hang out online with lots and lots of cool people who are really enthusiastic about the work that you and your team have been whittling away at for several years?

There is only one word.

Humbling.

I spent much of this week talking with journalists and enthusiast press about Red Steel 2. It was weird.

I mean, first of all, it was great. When we show the game, the result is nearly always the same: anyone who picks up the controls has quite a good time playing it.

That’s not necessarily boasting – that’s just what I see again and again in the presentations we make. Some people are cool on some aspects of the game, and there are lots of questionable decisions that we made (to be sure), but players seem to be unanimous about one thing: RS2 is fun to play.

Joy!

But that’s not really what I want to talk about today. I’ve been musing (extensively) on this weird little blip of Internet celebrity I seem to have accumulated, and I want to talk a little bit about the experience.

For those of you who don’t know what in the hell I’m talking about, here’s a quick primer:

• Back in June, I was asked to announce Red Steel 2 at the Ubisoft press conference. As I had just broken my knee, I came out on stage not only looking like my normal freak self, but with a cane. This seemed to clinch things: I was suddenly being recognized as “that dude with the beard and the cane”.
• Since then, I’ve done about 1,453,901 interviews while promoting Red Steel 2. Over the past 9 months, this has slowly changed from “Oh, hi, who are you?” to “I’d really like to get an interview with Jason VandenBerghe, if that’s okay.”

For the record (and, whether or not you believe me) I’m not bragging. Not at all. That’s actually part of the point of this blog post, I think – to open the door a little bit on that.

Yes, I love the attention, yes, I’m a glory-hound, yes, I like talking to the press, yes, I’m fundamentally insecure and am trying to compensate for that, yes. Yes yes yes. All true. But I’m also 100% clear that appreciation is something that fans decide to give, not something that I can “make happen” or “deserve”.

I’m amazed at what has been occurring, but no more feel like I “own” the attention I’ve been getting than I own the weather. People seem interested in me right now, I think that’s cool and fun, it helps the game, and if people get a kick out of what I’m doing, then I hope it continues. If it doesn’t, then c’est la vie, baby.

Either way, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. This week was particularly weird – I had several journalists who seemed to be very interested in my personal creative origins for some of the stuff that appears in Red Steel 2. This is hyper-weird for me:

• First of all, as an American, the concept that the press would be interested in talking about what I do as “art” is just surreal. I’ve learned that in Europe this is not such a foreign (ha ha) concept, but it still takes a leap of faith for me to believe that they aren’t being sarcastic.
• Secondly, it’s an action game, so the interest level about the surrounding details is surprising. Welcome, but surprising. I spent a good deal of time (with one Greg Roach, among others) working out how the “Red West” works as a setting, and it’s great to hear that people are curious. Surprising, but great.
• Third, I’ve been working in this industry for going on fourteen years now, and never really popped up as more than a “hyperenthusiastic designer” in any of my earlier contacts with the press. I’m sure this has at least something to do with nearly every other game I’ve made being a movie game… but it has the effect of lending an “overnight” feeling to the whole thing.
• Fourth, at EA and Activision, this whole thing would simply have been impossible. I do not have the kind of political power and interest that it takes to become a spokesperson at those companies, and my years of (largely) quiet service is evidence of this. I did a few articles, press tours, and quite a few “tourguide” stints with visiting dignitaries and student groups… but nothing like what Ubisoft has done with Red Steel 2. So far, Ubisoft seems to see my quirkyness as an advantage, and are more than willing to let me cavort around to my heart’s content (as long as the game is good, of course).
• Fifth… uh… I seem to be wandering way off the course here. Let’s just get back to the blogging, shall we?

The unspoken “background noise” in this topic is that I have always had a deep-rooted desire to do something meaningful.

Like, from birth. Something that touches people, something that gives back to the culture that created me – that was always the goal, from the furthest back I can remember. This has so completely dominated my thinking throughout my life that I don’t really know what it would be like to live without it.

Even against what is sometimes a cynical, shallow world, I want to do things that matter to people. (Not capital “M”, Matter. Just the regular, lowercase “matter”.)

Juxtaposed against the above “micro-celebrity weirdness” concepts, perhaps you can imagine something like what it feels like when people express interest in my work: I’ve spent my entire life craving the opportunity to do something valuable… and then, suddenly, in small fits and spurts, some people seem to be responding.

I know that this isn’t necessarily because of me personally, but I do experience what can only be described as enormous relief at the idea that perhaps, for once, the inside world and the outside world might be more closely aligned than they have been for the past few decades.

For the record, I’m not 100% sure that I have an actual point here that I’m trying to make. I think perhaps what I’m trying to do is share a little bit about what this whole weird trip has been like (good, strange, confusing, marvelous), and keep up with my long-standing policy of being as bluntly honest about the human nature of what I’m doing in my life as I can be, with anyone who is interested.

Also, I’m rather disorganized as a person, and processing everything publicly seems to be the best way for me to not miss things.

Anyway. This is turning into a boring, navel-gazing style post, so maybe I’ll call it here. If you made it this far, gratz. And, thanks for reading – I hope that at the very least, this post at least makes it more clear that I really do genuinely appreciate the interest.

Why? No clue. I think I was born this way.

My last name, as you may or may not know, is “VandenBerghe”. It’s dutch – translates to “from the mountain” (or “of the mount”, or something).

Or, at least, it would, if it was spelled correctly. Which it isn’t. But that’s another story.

Technically, though, it’s not dutch. It’s Belgian.

I spent a good chunk of my formative years hearing about the storied history of the VandenBerghe side of my family tree. There was a lot of drama there to be had in the tale, but the net result was to leave my brother and I with the general impression that, even though our family had left Belgium three generations ago, that we were still from there. There was always lots of evidence to be found to support this thesis: all the family I knew from my dad’s side sported huge honking schnozes, small (but kind) eyes, no chin whatsoever, a propensity for belly growth, and a general “round-face”-edness that gave an overall sense of “nice guy” to our stature.

And, when we looked at a travel brochures for Belgium, we would see these same features staring back at us.

So, when we came to Paris (to live, woah), we reconnected with “the old family” here. Which was amazing.

But we haven’t been to Belgium yet.

Fast-forward to: NOW!

/fast-forwards to now

The Red Steel 2 press tour through Europe just happens to have a stop in Brussels. Which is in Belgium. In a really big way.

So, just a few hours ago, my plane from London landed in the Brussels airport, and I stepped onto Belgian soil for the first time in my life.

What’s weird is that this didn’t really hit me until I handed my passport to the dude behind the customs desk. He asked me the normal questions, and then perked up: “You’ve got a dutch name!” he said, and smiled. I nodded enthusiastically and explained the situation in brief, and walked away…

…with chills running down my spine. Baggage claim station #8 will remain imprinted into my memory as the place I realized I had completed the pilgrimage. I was home, in some long-lost way. The feeling was unique, and now I’m sitting here in my hotel room typing these words, and I want nothing more than to run out into the street and find someone to talk to about it. “I’m from here!” I want to tell them: “I recognize this place! I recognize you!” Because, all around me, I see huge schnozes, small (but gentle) eyes, round features…

…home.

Here it is.

Maybe my sense of humor is, uh, blunted or something, but the kid sure seems freakin’ hilarious to me.